Except

Your murk filled eyes are my playground.

I am a dirty schoolboy in the midst of your sins.

The moons out tonight.

Somewhere…

and you can find me out back

dancing in your memory.

Instead of thought

give me intention.

When they all leave:

Reflections twisted and grew dark around him.

The weathered ancient man faded

Into the corner of the bar with the shadows

And bought his demon a drink.

They said nothing

But had a mutual understanding and respect

For the company and hatred they kept.

That man raised his glass

Time and time over

And toasted to the idea of others.

Eventually, the laughter would come.

Dry and cracked

Raspy and hollow

Languid and smoky

The tepid laughter of madmen.

I think I am tired of want.

Do you know who you aren’t?

Some of them will skin you alive.

Wear your rags like dolls cloths

While putting on fresh war paint.

Some of them will claw their way out.

Tearing at your walls with nails of steel

While smiling with kind eyes.

Some of them will be there every time.

While not expecting anything in return

And keep hands open.

Some of them will be there when you don’t see them.

While propping up strange and foreign ideals

That will seep into your life.

But make no mistake, boy.

Make not a single mistake.

They’re out for blood.

Blood, they will get.

shattered reservoir

What’s this hubbub all about, you foolish child? Release all of that ridiculous expecation and anticipation, you wear it badly. When you are done having your boyish fit go and buy me a new sweater, I’m tired of hearing you complain about drafts. Those holes are your fault. You wore it out. You kept washing it. You kept it around, long after it died. So what are you going to do about it? That’s what I want to know. Keep those cups upside down, I never cared for intended optimism.