Tired of saying stomach
I am so tired of saying stomach,
I want to say diarrhea
not that my mouth is just another ass
to slosh feces from,
but so I can lower my cranial walls
and show the world my wrinkles
without worry.
Up There Someday
Moments like these
When I see need up to my knees
When I sadly say,
“Can’t wait be up there someday.”
Because I won’t have to worry about those down there
Because there’s nothing I could do anyway for those that fell.
Every chance that had to help was yesterday,
And my sins, forgiven, I hate to say.
regret about heaven
Worry Lane
Do you ever worry about me?
Surely, there’s some doubt, please.
It’s like not being missed
Because you know I’ll be fine.
Worry Lane, at least to me,
Seems to be one way.
Tell me when I’m wrong.
do people worry about me?
Every time I stop typing
Every time I stop typing you are there
Throwing me in a knapsack and carrying me
Down the street of my past memory
Crying. Couldn’t be more sadistic or kinder.
Pajamas, playgrounds, tuxes at a party,
Jess, Heaz, Ross, Jaz, Beck and Mir,
I’ve constructed a trance that reminds
Me of what was and still is in all its glory
And cancels my omnipresent burden and worry
That production is the only good use of time.
Recalling you and me: our one, now separate, story:
Composed music of the soul that intricately rhymes.