Outside is the traffic 2

I have
a complex inner war to place carefully between
my space and your embrace.

Also inside
is a poem beyond my day-to-day needs.

is a stampede, looking to compete.

the poem’s epigraphic,

is the traffic.


I could see beyond light

I was not even here.
Raw and pure fear, nature’s primal son,
I don’t think so, I’m not that one.

Ahead on the road,
At that heavy branch that fell in the storm
Last night and every night before that?

Not there, ahead, not the horizon
Farther, that’s just the Sun,
Those are more planets and stars.

I was feeling the heart of my gods.
Further, where it’s only dark,
There I was, where I wasn’t there.

Maybe if I squint my eyes

“If patterns are like constellations,
The lines are in my head, Mr Robot.”

“You can focus on just one dot.”



Rub rub, smudge smudge, scratch scratch.

Day after day, you’ve made me betray and display my soul. Then you watch the show, point at my knots, do or do not applaud. These bent plots trick me to my rare implosions and your probing finger is inching closer to my whole.

No, wait; rub rub, smudge smudge, scratch scratch.

These penned thoughts strip me to my bare emotions and your probing finger is inching closer to my soul. Mine are just resting on the edge of the coffee table, trying to seem detached. When they can’t, they rub rub, smudge smudge, scratch scratch.

What is your average hero like?

Just one dark night can break,
Just one dark night can rake,
Whole therapy, all the pills,
The strong resolve, for insanity’s sake.

Bags, threads, scalpels, blades,
Pills, knives, ropes, aches,
And this is not all that it takes,
There’re other kinds of mistakes.

Wake up and try to smell the morning,
Wake up and try to quell the morning,
Wake up and try to tell yourself to
Try and sell yourself the morning.

No powers, no costume, no strange disguise,
No swords, no guns, no weapons, instead
A friendly shoulder, a welcome breast
To rest your ailing head,

Is the only one who says to me,
There’s still some hope, you bet.
She’s the only hero I have met,
She’s the hero I have wed.

Let me forget your face

Your kisses, on old pages
get smudged, washed away,
when the first tears edge
past my tale of every day.

The furniture in my head
turned rickety, gave away —
memories can’t sit or stay,
thoughts won’t go out to play.

You left but left behind
new shadows on my x-ray,
even in this wretched haze
I still can see your face.