Inklings.

Don’t humor the inkling to test me,
Always searching for angles to best me,
Your presence must constantly tempt me,
daily fail on your part to preempt me,
Too pathetic to bend,
Bite at the bowl that’s empty.
bullshit side-stepping,
pathetic button pressing,
Get on track dead last,
Any shot you had to win has passed,
Neurotic tail chasing,
Your stupidy’s amazing
Go long, carry on,
its so entertaining,
Your need to bear teeth,
at absolutely nothing,
It’s so funny,
You humor me,
Not a soul cares,
If you never get out of here,
You made your bed and it’s filthy,
The stench of the things you can’t be,
So many piles of what’s needy,
You think your logic is stealthy,
But your face makes me angry,
I want to punch at you; God help me,
For striking a helpless puppy,
It made me.

Introspectivity.

It always starts out with,
that involuntary twitch,
eyes popping,
nervous rocking,
hard to catch my breath;

This much accursed gift,
heart haywire, mind adrift,
engine sputter,
pulse aflutter,
can’t run away from it;

A sand that’s too fine to sift,
these hands: too broken to lift,
no motivation,
slow salvation,
beyond a dark, longstanding rift;

Steaming piles of shit,
line my pathway to its pit,
a one way road,
on the map I hold,
of a soul that’s counterfeit.

Sunrise and ADHD.

What does this morning’s dawning want to bring to me?
I could wash the wood floors, or climb a tall tree;
I could force myself to get my lab work done, finally;
Or I could sit on the beach and get stoned, like I want to be.

Maybe I’ll go hide in the library…
I can read my favorite books endlessly;
Surprise Sensei Han when I show up for karate;
Or just sit on my ass at my desk and write poetry.

Perhaps I will lead, in high speed – at the racetrack, again;
Or maybe shit some overpriced ammo down the drain;
I could always go hiking and get lost in the rain;
I’m partial to the idea of a tattoo gun’s special pain.

Today might be the day I dive for abalone;
Or decide to set my family of society finches free;
I just never know what’s in store for me;
With a mind so confined by its A.D.H.D.

Halfway Shiny.

I hear the steps,
of someone Vader-esque,
around the doorframe,
pops a puzzled,
curious, questioning face;
the stoner familiarity,
of my jovial roommate,
“wasn’t there something…”
he points a finger at me,
“…that you were doing?”
“Huh?”
I am elsewhere mentally,
reading a book about TIG welding;
“Don’t be a bump on a log…”
he snaps his fingers past me,
“Hello? Anyone there?”
I sit up in my chair, attentively –
and flash my brain back,
through the last hour that’s left me;
“Oh schnapp! I’m such a dingbat!”
and I leap up from my seat,
to go finish the task,
left unfinished by me,
the dining room floor was left:
only halfway shiny,
I must have been interrupted,
by my own train of thinking,
somehow I wound up outside gardening,
before going to my room,
where Vader Steps found me;
“You know, you’d forget your head,
if it weren’t attached back onto your body…”
“I’m focused – quit bothering me,
if you want this floor finished, at least.”
He shakes his head and walks away,
his Vader Steps loudly echoing,
I guess I chalk another one
up to my fucking ADHD.

Whispers.

wtf you lookin at

A small boxed room, hardly lit by the flame through the gloom;
It doesn’t matter though – my hands can still to touch you;
A freezing cold place, everywhere besides your hands and face;
This heat from our bodies warms up the remaining space…

A tangle of linens and clothes, tan lines and scars exposed;
A bead of sweat rolls slowly down the bridge of your nose;
It’s been time to ride these things out, now the secret is out;
There wasn’t much left between us to wonder about…

And so now -here we are, somewhere under the stars;
The day was spent being blessed on my every scar;
It can’t be fought off or sent anywhere else now;
Your fingers grip tightly and my walls all fall down…

There’s nothing to fear, these are your senses right here;
I don’t want to run and you have no desire to disappear;
Let’s just stay then, forget it all – fuck all of them;
I don’t want to go back to the city or to the Reservation…

I’d be happiest I’d venture to guess;
If I stay curled up in a ball on your chest;
And things could stay so calmly this way, every time – always;
I’ll eat your whispers like food to my soul ‘til that day…