The Death of Being Unable to Speak

Jesus Christ never flew through a windshield

Johnny on the spot, like a plummeting butterfly

A pocket full of miracles in a pair of pants He left

Baking in the sun

"He never hurt no one"

Torn jeans, with splotches of bleach and blood

Pulled the wool over the eyes of the wind

"I said my prayers," said the prayers

The water on the outside of the glass will form a halo on the wood

My own private executioner, with ice floating around in His blood

Break the table apart, build a cross

Paint it Christmas colors and shove it down a chimney stack

I love you, said the coathanger to the fetus

Nailed to the plaque

Pushed the stone from the womb

It's easier with a hand over your eyes

Give me a chance, baby Jesus,

Whoa, what's that,

Holy fuck,

We're gonna crash.

secret secretions

There will always be a need for this,

So long as there is a gap between us

Begging for a wedge.

There will always be a need for,

Well, my grinding dreams,

Sugar cubes crumbling into cream.

There will always be a need for,

My wounds, sealed

Off rooms fingers comb through.

There will always be a need for,

Longing, or the wheel spins no longer

In circles, while faces painted white

Obsolete secrets.

Neon Brain

While concrete cocks are poised to the poisonous blue

I'd rather not fly away from home

I'm afraid I'm already sinking away from you

But that's where I wanna go

I wanna sleep alone, if I could escape my neon brain

Glowing extra fuzzy in the clichéd acid rain

Unless you'll stop shutting your eyes

I exist to stare into them

I don't know how else to hold onto...

You don't think I'm crazy, do you?

I pull the clouds together and hope they block out the sky,

When I pretend to be god,

Knowing how to help you

My teeth collected in a brown paper sack

My body on fire, chin resting in my hand

Skin peeling and falling to the sidewalk

Interspersed with clumps of grass between the cracks

Life will find away

I'll float from the heap into a herd of sheep

And we'll all love everything together

As long as it's good enough for us

song of your self

I hate you because I love you, but
You don't love anything do you?
Not even the songs, they pass right through you
They're not even right, they're not even wrong
They don't even bite, they're not even songs
What do you sing when you cleanse yourself?
Is it a habit in the shower?
What do you sing when you cleanse yourself?
Appreciate me, you cowards
Appreciate my plastic flowers
In a pewter vase
Let me show you how I hide my face
Let me show you

haiku

I.
Branches of olive
Extend like small children's arms
To embrace rivals

II.
String tied to finger
Sound of a leaky faucet
Between twitching ears

III.
Altruistic farce:
Groan slightly under the weight,
They jump up and down

IV.
Pull your head back down
Cotton puffs of ice crystals
Have nothing to say

V.
A woodpecker pecks
Branches not far from the tree
While the bugs snicker

VI.
Just because mountains
Don't cry when you blow them up
Doesn't mean you should

VII.
Identical trees
Make it impossible for
Me to navigate