i remember when
the wants for loud and graphic
playing in bands
gametime in an arena
the thrill of the chase
of the next big thing
now
i just want the world to slow down
not to spin so hard
for a little quiet
vacant
they keep coming; to room 306-
they checked in, locked the door, and dissapeared-
they order room service, but no one is their to pick it up
they call it ghost
hunters come with their cameras
leave ith empty pockets
all to see room 306.
i’ve seen him, not a they, a he
he comes late and leaves early
he orders food just before he arrives
he doesn’t communicate anymore
just a being
exisiting in a shell
the hunters were so close
to catching a real ghost
d twelve
littered enterprise
dangerous dump highway twelve
bishops take your queen
heart to heart
you dropped the ball
you missed an opportunity
she was reaching out
but you seemed
distracted
like you didn’t give a shit;
two frames and no pictures
math without numbers
paper without desk
water with frogs without lilies;
can only swim in cold water
long enough to take two breathes
not to waste on insincere feelings
light kombat
she asked if
i was blinded by the lights;
two k set up in a alley
behind a Wendy
are they, too bright’
when the scripture hit the pen
humanity paused-
those lights
those lights filled a stadium three times the earth
a field for gods to play finger football
& were too puny to even place a bet
so no, thee-
these lights were made for mortals
mortal pain mortal gain
all in the ring
mortal kombat
tulip farm
i don’t believe
like i used to;
if you can strike down
the gardeners
who will tend to the garden
when the sun beats down
when crawlers feast on roots;
when you strike down the gardeners
who will watch over your tulip field
how i met
i fell in love with a Robin
an tedding out
is the new normal
featuring a segment
of regret
reporting live
from channel news one
transitional paradox
it’s hard to look you in the eyes
and tell you i failed
when all i want to do
is give you
something to be proud of
fading
loose colors
twisting the ends
slapping the packet against tired wrist
i can feel
the end
grasping against air
pressed against my throat
inching forward
bloody nails held vacant
wasp fingernails to the hive
only one queen
found a prison with a hundred inmates two guards and a king wearing two crowns
i hate it here
Saint's Muse 