And I Shall Head Home (day 170)

Reason comes to the surface like an infected pond
Suffocating the life out of dreams and hope
But that’s ok, it’s just a small pond in the circle of life
Bigger fish will come from different ponds

The memory, however, shall remain constant forever
The fun times afloat our two-seater
Rowing slowly around the familiar banks of destiny
Wearing in the good spots of weathered wear

The boat it can sink, but I surely can swim
The fish it can run, but I surely can reel
The oars they can break, but surely I can then kick
But if, upon the banks where I stand
I should see such a torment dark seas that do bring
I shall pack up my oils, wear my wellingtons proudly
And head home, till the banks they do clear

Unfinished Business (day 168)

I remember
I hold
I used to sing late at night
I used to hold memories as if they could comfort me

Now I keep telling myself
Whats been has been
No need to forget just move on
No need to wallow just move on
No need to listen just believe

The pieces that once were
Never were

The pieces that have hit the floor
Were never me

Out of The Cold (day 167)

Abound with joy she zipped up her pants
Wrapped the scarf one more time around
Before she braved the cold wall facing her

She stepped out the door into the brisk air
Cooly calm after the night whirled in her head
Like a heart worn, still spinning top

Anticipation in waiting, like the empty bowl
Full of surprises but still quite unready to expose
The vampires call now, late in the night

The steps jump faster, as joints stiffen against the cold
The bus .does. .not. .ever. come quick enough
Fucking transit, mumbled under her breath

As a lady, she smiles, ignoring the smirks
As a temptress she squirms, applauding the smiles
Alone she hurries, out of the cold

Eternal Industrialist Battle (day 165)

~ in struts the guardian ~

Work your tired little fingers
You ungrateful minions
We pay you not good enough
We demand the most of your work
And rarely applaud your efforts

But dammit! Do more work!
You’re not even sweating
And the look on your face
Doesn’t really portray the size
Of the mound I just dumped on your desk

Please, make sure this problem is eliminated
You rather hopeless child
I’m not sure I can look at you
As you sit there in your hallow
For god sakes, liven things up around here!

~ and out comes the demon ~

I sit here quietly
Constantly assuring
These working conditions
Will for-surely be changed
I dream of masochism
Or voodoo tactics
Going AWOL on this monitor
Blinking as rapidly as your ideas change
Morphing my own ideas
Into schemes of your own
Taking all our own
Efforts for granted
Feeling no guilt
At the abuse of your power
You won’t last long, asshole
At the rate you’re going.

~ silence, carry on ~

Gloves (day 163)

Beautiful gloves of
Beautiful gloves of
Beautiful gloves of
Beautiful gloves of


Many fancy shirts
Wrapped in designer skirts
Tie, around your neck
Dizzy lips swap


Remain the last breath
Spotted around the corner
Suffering endlessly
Alone, without gloves company