Dysmorphia

There is a chaos in me
A tempest in darkness
A sound and a fury
Most distort memories of their past
But I actively tamper with the present
The war drums are beating
Again and again and deafening
I think in this cadence
I think in this style
I think with this diction
The war drums sound
And I write the notes
My disjointed thoughts
My abnormal psyche
My unraveling life
Decanted and decadent
I cannot stop these words
No, I cannot restrain them
In reality or perception
I am losing my mind
Skewing intentions
Flooded with rage
Isolating dysfunctionality
Projecting the distrust I deserve
Trying to keep it all in check
Without veracity
Without intimacy
When all the passion is gone
When all the pleasure is gone
Coffee at midnight
Bourbon at dawn
Unable or unwilling
To forego stimulation
This cranium can’t reward itself
And a hundred highs later
I still need more
Indeed my friend
As if I want to fail
As if I will never learn

Odin’s Raven

She is my laughter in the morning
My bright eyed princess
My truth and my joy
My constant constellation
Twinkling at me happily
I will move mountains for her
Or make all of time standstill
I will butcher gods for her
Or put all of hell to sleep
She is my inspiration
My crystal chandelier rainbows
My sunbeam through the curtain
My dancing grand piano
My warm gentle ocean waves
My sunrise over cornfields
My star-filled Texas sky
She babbles like song birds
She lightens my soul
I will do anything for her

Gamer

I play these games in easy mode
Not because I don’t enjoy
A difficult defining challenge
But because I love to play
As recklessly as possible

Black Sheep

I’m the black sheep of the suburbs
Standing in the rain smoking a cigar
Drinking single malt in my front yard
So clear that I don’t give a shit
So evident that they hate me
This solipsistic daze
On these apathetic days
Where I feel like only I exist
Coping poorly with the idea of death
As I race towards it publicly

Familiar

A third winter
With the same trees
Familiarly oddly swooping
Yearning or pointing
Or drooping branches
Letting me know I’m home
Cold in this chilling wind
Rustles and memories
Some more threatening than others
Alone in the commonplaceness
Of true and reliable consistency