Dirty Kerosene.

reduce heat;
overthink;
let simmer –
stir in memories…
add some seasoning,
cover entire mix;
boil overnight,
slow and steadily,
infuse the sauce,
with every teardrop,
slow-cooked misery;
a favorite, indeed,
to anyone in the room,
this unspoken recipe,
Sugar-Candied Doom,
sadly,
it all tastes,
the same to me,
a price to pay,
for the slow-brew,
insomnia infused,
home-made marinade,
douse any leftovers,
in dirty kerosene,
and burn it up,
with any residual,
happy memories,
the pot has boiled over,
over-stimulus,
to the sensory…
bury the book,
the one from,
which you took,
this torturous recipe.

A Rager.

It was near-dinnertime…
summertime –
it was July, I’m pretty sure…
I was in gridlock traffic…
glued onto Old Julian and 23rd…
it was then that it started raining…
not water –
but the worst of profane words…
a glance in the general direction…
of the commotion that I heard…
on this day found me staring…
down the angry
rainmaker’s chambered rounds…
but it wasn’t just simply the one …
many toted guns –
pulled from various waistlines…
they’d all lost their damned minds…
c’mon now, it’s rush hour –
let’s steer away…
from the road rage…
somehow –
by then, I’d counted all of eight…
angry pistols being waved…
by many angry knaves…
time to go my separate way…
side streets –
red the green repeatedly…
leather seats in triple digit heat…
green trees –
to smoke alone…
in peace when I get home…
and fuck me to tears…
if the news anchor wasn’t…
immediately on the TV…
Traffic Incident Murders!!! –
multiple shooters on the lam…
I knew it, and I almost said…
I just shut the fuck up instead…
bow my head, I am – God damn.

Dirty Kerosene.

reduce heat;
overthink;
let simmer –
stir in memories…
add some seasoning,
cover entire mix;
boil overnight,
slow and steadily,
infuse the sauce,
with every teardrop,
slow-cooked misery;
a favorite, indeed,
to anyone in the room,
this unspoken recipe,
Sugar-Candied Doom,
sadly,
it all tastes,
the same to me,
a price to pay,
for the slow-brew,
insomnia infused,
home-made marinade,
douse any leftovers,
in dirty kerosene,
and burn it up,
with any residual,
happy memories,
the pot has boiled over,
over-stimulus,
to the sensory…
bury the book,
the one from,
which you took,
this torturous recipe.