taxes

everybody has something to say. words bounce from the walls without thought. every room a rattle of chatter. the more I hear the less I know. I try to listen and struggle to follow. there are too many people on my phone. everybody cries about something. my misery means nothing in the face of death and taxes. tomorrow comes on highways paved to take us to the end of days. I watch humanity collapse and still wait and hope for more from a world I can’t control. everybody wants to matter. I struggle with the weight of empty words I used to wield to build a funeral pyre. without meaning there’s still warmth enough to last another night.

colander

days are deep breaths between dreams. I speak and hear the words lose their meaning in leaving my mouth. thoughts surface without the illusion of sense they once bore and it’s hard to know what to believe. what little grasp I had is left for someone else to seize. do as you please and take what you like when you want.

every pulse is a chore that keeps asking for more. we wring the heart dry in the sink through my pores. what little love is left is love enough to lose again. 

a bird in the supermarket

the end was spoiled

and now we’re here

too stunned to hold anything dear

it’s over now

the future’s gone

with nothing more than fear to don

please lie and tell me it’s okay

that things were meant to be this way

say we’re meant to be here now

say we’ll live, and show me how.

someone’s birthday somewhere

the time between thoughts of you

brief liberation

a freedom from envy

anchored to dread and the truth

sober to the ultimate revelation that nothing can matter

in a world of parking lots and metamorphosis

there’s no meaning beyond

the words we say

and the time we mark

choosing to make meaning

I buy it at the shop

all wrapped in cellophane

it lasts a while

until I see you in my sleep

and you make sense and matter more

and plastic is plastic

you hold my hand

and waking up

you’re gone again

so far

so cold

and I am here

and you are not

in a world of now and then

where nothing can matter

I take the stairs

they never end

my nose is cold

I’ll never kiss your face again.

dishes in the sink

the people wait for more that never comes. we take for granted every breath and moment wasted on the phone. the plumbing tunnels rivers through the walls into the soil on which someone built a home. I hear the water passing through the plaster between dreams that should be kinder. when I wake to thoughts and other tasks the lines are clearer in the sun. a dream is just a dream and cannot live beyond a thought. I hide from my reflection in the news. my taxes still make limbs and rubble of children and their homes and heads remain unturned. the blood is still too complicated. focus on what can be changed. I surrender hope and wash the dishes in the sink.

stream at home

sorry for the wait

we didn’t want to keep you long

is now okay?

are you around?

everyone wants to know what’s wrong

we want to help you see the good

the people smile and so they should

listen to the birds

between your breaths

and walk to work

count the hours from your desk

pennies on the counter 

shells to treasure in a jar

every moment is a gift

tell the mirror to remember

work to sell your time for food

to fuel another day of more

watch the people from the window

doing people things below

see the wonder in the streets

beyond the waste

beyond disease

while those that can’t quite reach the wonder

plead for money on their knees

use your phone and take a picture

of your face or favourite food

share your picture with your friends

they celebrate and so they should

because you’ll do the same for them

so that you’ll never be alone

forever happy and in love

with all the people on your phone

and everything is good

when everything is rightly 

and there’s no better daydream

you can stream at home tonight.

tomorrows

the first dream of the year brings you to my door. he’s there with you to talk to my father. there’s a book of prose he’s written with portraits he’s taken of you: black and white and from a life that isn’t mine. the pages are razors to my skin. I call your name and catch your gaze but nothing more. you are with him and he says you need to leave. I protest with questions you can’t answer and he’s pulling you away into a bus on the street. the clouds hang low. the wheels are turning and I chase by your window til I can’t keep up. you look away like I was never there. he drives you off into tomorrows we will never share.

morning comes and all is still. we are nothing but the same as before. there is no poetry. I cannot write myself into a story I can sell. the only way out is over everything I thought and who I am. there is a choice and too much for me to change. count the shards of shattered mirror on the bathroom floor and sweep them to the curb. listen to someone else. spare your pulse for something more. wake up and move again.