look what the cat dragged in

I live in incongruency
consequence and principle drift from memory
it can’t always be sunny days, kid

this time of year is
the perfect time for
making changes, only I keep
changing my mind
and making great escapes
while everyone else is shaking their head

there were moments when I stood
proud on my mountain
falsely believing it was the top of the world
and boldly proclaimed,
(forever terrified that I cannot know)
but would it soften my name
if it was never the same?
how could it be
I never lie
I’m only half a bastard

this time of year I
renew myself once more
with the same resolutions and
the promise that things will be

the thing about lying
is that we see what we want to see
maybe you CAN have it all
they wake and determine:
today will be extraordinary
I’m still lying in bed

my mustache would be dastardly (if I could grow one)
curled around a pale, slender finger
you wouldn’t know the devil if he was kissing your neck
_______such pretty words!
_______such clever acts!
truth is the elusive stuff of ghosts,
until you nail it to your bed
and it SCREAMS
disgusting facts and inconveniences
for all the world to hear

that dumb look on your stupid face
as you realize just how bad it sounds

when the whole thing was over, there wasn’t anyone left, just
an empty auditorium, the lingering warmth of an audience
a sociopath’s smile in the small light of that fireplace candle
ah, you poor bastard
all alone again

this time of year,
the air’s sharp enough to cut through bone
it screeches through the paper houses, sucking
the good feeling from the frozen earth
as hooded figures dash from their toddies to late-night diners
where they pour reheated coffee for lonely december warriors
(the crackle of 60’s guitars reminds them of a life before linoleum)
the decades pissed away in stale perfection

they say that whole universe is within
okay, but as someone who claims to love cake
I just keep eating and eating it…
pretty sure I’m empty space

I try to be a good guy
most of the time, not always when it counts
but there’s a real me me me
somewhere out there
lost among the wildflowers

back to those eastern temples, the nine incense sticks
and the marbled dragons crumbling beneath the midday sun
deep, deep inside: I’ll make the buddha so fucking proud
when I emerge, there’ll be no lingering
ugly self
just this vessel
ready to transcend through
meditation, self-deprecation
whatever means necessary

if you should ever fall as I’ve fallen
I will still be standing here
a better man, then



still sorry