phantoms in the camera waiting pools with socks and shoes over my sanity drowns out riding in circles of green again for love or blues we can't understand white pale frames under bridges of plenty and cast ourselves hoping for range in quiet spools passed help on twenty floors.

 in my mid 40's, in what seems like a very short time, I've become:

-a hat guy

-chips & salsa guy

-hot sauce/Sriracha guy

-loofa guy

-black jeans guy

-hair product guy

-eggs over easy/medium guy

-zip up hoody guy (vs pullover)

-therapy guy

Early twenties Rob don't recognize me...

listen in tens of a thousand miles before I fry internal joined by smiles for christ enjoyed that stretch mind in hands full with no escape clawed to the bottom in ideation it's one day in a life turned inside frown appears formal.

houred or honored

in time flying bound

by graceless minds

found my like

tried cascades in

fractured lines

vision less obscured

than hand in time

broken forward

staggered step

surround and bound

you are not

in debt by consuming

lettered and fixed

in digital spaces

quick

manifest dreams

thought processes

output desired create

mandate emotional

repeat speeding

in mad rational states.

sad emotional

average devotional

admission of guilt with no capitals 

required reading where

minds come to

dive into muddy waters

concerns in circles without diameters

listen 

i know this wasn't what you expected

i don't have skills 

or pay bills 

i've been rejected

create a space

crashed in place without leaving the couch

in smaller times i washed my hands

of this tightening 

bands of mothers in celebration

i watch the flock and wonder 

why incarceration comes with food and reading

retirement plans in white collar crimes

no bleeding

or basement rooms with doctors or stars in films

i don't need much

a mattress and lunch and dragons

in dungeons with crazy mages

i've gone on enough 

this time

perhaps tomorrow won't be so rough.

this place holds time
even for me
the ambiguity makes understanding elusive
another 12 years
of meaningless words
where will that take us?
little confessional, yet repeated year to year
this is not what it was meant to be
or this is exactly what it needed
i consider myself the benchmark for mediocrity.

hand me down
released and found
another scattered day
around
less talked about
calling on depths
foregrounded keys
thought more of
replied
when do I
ten years
along this road
one day
at the end
i'll still be retreading
retyping
reading back among
more forgotten now
than ever before
another slip
i've ridden and
admitted and confessed
i say
bored scared unsure
this is what i will be
another day in years.

slipping time, or, yet another
update mass
incarceration trapped
limited
paid in dues
cracked folded
pretended time
when in darkness faced reality
turned fled obscurity
left this line in place
of quality
through doors
i've had these
read in soft hands
given it all with no demands
silent returns
greets my morning
though still the sounds
of my only being
protect this from the gazing abyss.

i laughed out loud, could not decide
i smirked in silence
i knelt before myself, could not remember

i, you, we, need help
be there

why do i consider?
use that word in particular.
from ashes, dust, fibers, to the less than solid
streaming
well i can say this my friend
not one of us has
hasn't had or will have
a second rate

or if you wish it another way
you are you and as such can't escape

pretend for a moment
it meant something
i could move you
we moved each other
or why else

erase wish withheld
in past times


............................

i know my shortcomings
sadness does not lie in ignorance or tragedy
but in the inability to affect change
despite such knowledge
we walk this path willingly by default
and when one of us alters, we fall upon them
turn against, as clearly we only wish we could alter as well

by admission we are complicit
confession allows comfort from sin
and as such should be stopped
we should not confess or admit, instead
you must change.

Sad from afar this
That and the other
Sirens time direct
Spent in line
I can't define a blank space
In other time

bright light air ways
damaged among patriotic
souls among the favored
class roles
after faith
empty shells to
be filled remembered
or steeled
hardened
to the bottom

is there always another gutter
a basement below
depravity and sickness
can always outdo themselves

clammy hands submitted
lack of reply
tempted
what fate stores
find another battered shore
to call home


i don't like the "i don't like it when people do stuff" attitude that seems prevalent.
celebrate people embracing things that make them happy or further their ends.
push people up.

i rallied against this.  i kept changing minds.  i laughed in the face.  i cried out for more, while cringing in the corner, in my mind's eye, it said, keep the lines blurred.  i used consistency as my tool, to waste time.  i favored the sucking soul.

in time the circle will be complete, a new seed.  i shall pass down to the world the best i can give it.  i will mold my gifts in my image and know they will do better, make me proud.  the world will cower and bow before their calamity, calamity of new power, new love, new knowledge to change and crumble the now.

and for once i go to bed with calm vigor.  perhaps a new day will reveal a new way, a direct path to this state.  i shall not yearn, shall not covet, shall not stretch thin.  see another crossing guard, another simple task, yellow fog building.  i cracked this egg, this mess.  i did not.  i considered.

i left for another journey, space, time, sending clear.  i arrived, i returned.

i've presented favors
asked questions
of little known neighbors
i went ahead
back for more
i tripped on lines
left crying before
i crossed signals
broke promises
remembered better days
i soiled my pants
for fear and lacking
i made a mistake
when asked directly
i would not take
look here from quiet
cries out
i've erased memories
shed tears
for forced calamities
i don't take
a step from the abyss
a shake of the head
we're all hairs from darkness
right
and mystery abounds
when forced upon the page
my light shines through
and while the abyss calls
i can only pretend
for we all have
that which keeps us.

ran circles
corrected lines
astray
betrayed my other side
neglected painful memories
surfaced
accounted for and left to die
faded away
i hate to say i wanted more
precious little things
secrets confessed and kept
traded
another frozen day
created
ashes and faults
simmering
under skin as tight
i frighten away
some i pray a nonexistence
who am i to say
explain constructed systems
in place to sooth imagined ills
this went another way
if forgotten lines
corrected it's fine
i won't cry or wonder
what might be
a thousand futures
at my feet behind
in some other place
and if i said
i meant more
pretend
doors are open
make no mistake
i won't repeat
left blank
protecting innocents
better lines
corrected rhymes i left
and wondered why.

critical thinking skills
not required
sense assault
editorial
hanging fruit
games
splitting sides
required reading
how does one go about
repeating
and does this
admission
render previous
thoughts
wavering
stylistically speaking
pretend
anxious
days away
can you handle
walking over mattresses
rolling cans
pulled back
confines
revelations
a word not said
public intoxication
left me here.

i’m rested assured

pretended

believed in nothing

consider my heart arrested

split lines and hairs

another fine factory farmed

emotional response from

fields

i slept in today

i can’t remember what this is for

something left unsaid

and another

wait for me

is not there

with eyes closed

from the pits of some dark abyss

i share the rest of me.

i make complicated
breathing and alive
tight and dense in the chest
awkward moments
best left
go behind and cover
steps brushed over traces left

i pretended and hoped while fearing and leering
monitor paces and pales legs
dropped faces

memory drifts a hazy place
here i stand
creating in words what i chased
another day of aches
a smiling face.

i wrote a different map
killed stars from
a far off place
line breaks in places left space
pretend functions aren't places or holders for long faces

create words on a page
in front of one another
public squares
feel free to act on words
level with me

i hate the thought i left
missing i bet off bothering
me and i and the rest of you
wondering should we
take a step

represent the full price
i left nothing back
pretend our words
gave you hope but
decided the layered cake

never mind the empty gaps
you're never to young to grasp
present a full thought not quite
left in a changing room
story of a doomed life.