Over time, the hurt doesn’t hurt. Only regret does.
Dream Journal
Know when
Some torture Fate beyond recognition rather than let him have his way.
Sensational
the famous five senses
are only helper senses
to our other infinite unnamed
Fixate
lobotomy by sparrow beak
brain pecked full of dread
brimful society syrupy sweet
carelessness killing us dead
memoryvines creeping through
sockets of wasteland dreams
a humming vibration of stasis
stuck lid on boiling progress
jammed gears of regression—
a spinning orbiting rotation
would be movement at least
incessant click click click
of the going nowhere echoes
like fading robotic heartbeats
a constant why? why? why?
the most important question
that never even mattered
answerless, unanswerable
speedbumps of psychological
queries emerging like stones
in the body — stuck motion
mind eternally trying, failing
to write its story, click clack
bones, ligaments, thoughts
stutter sputter twitch to death
choking on ink overflowing
poems destined for somewhere
turned inward flooding nowhere
release my brain to infancy
for it is smothered with age
Pressed flowers are still pretty
Age is a gradual steamrolling of youth.
Sir Reality
Some colors exist in dreams that are not present in the waking spectrum.