the Destruction of word(s)

A New Year To Pledge of Half Truths, Hidden Lies, and Idleness

Does it count as drinking alone
if your roommate is next store in his room?
He’s not drinking and you are not exactly hanging out.
The house is not empty so I think I am not drinking alone.
Is there any “true” harm in this if it would be falsified?
Does that change the status between you
and or I?

Whiskey and ginger a pleasant new years’ present
no hats or babies or fireworks
happiness can come in varying contexts.
Is this heading into the deadly ambiguity of virtue?
Writing letters came as second nature--
“Think of the past we share
when you hear a coal train slide across the track
every time you roll in the green crab grass
a illuminating star on a deadly collision with the sky
remember when we woke up to find mockingbirds
sugar in your coffee
honey bees stinging little fat kids
hold the earth up with me
lay down and hold on to me.”

a new year to end
a new year to push over the edge
a new year to vow to do something meaningful
a new year to waste on cigarettes and booze and god awful books

The warm fuzzy feelings soon end with Text Messages
Bells Whistles Shakers Balloons Champagne.
Fire from the neighbors lighting off the rest of 4th of july
balls dropping from penis shaped structures
the day that will never end just a party.
People pretend to believe-- they can change the world
while City Hall lights up, building open their top floor for a view
that never changes from one day to another.
Idle minds roll their eyes and ask too many questions—
when do late evenings become early mornings?
Wait until the day ends and people go back to habit
the day after tomorrow or maybe a week or maybe a month or maybe in an hour.







Party Time

To delve into something headfirst
takes a sort of unrelenting commitment
one where isolation is a celebration of self
a concentration where a passion becomes more--
at times one can not carry friends
or family to separate self from any classification
to rejoice in being an outsider.

The party can be rather an unfulfilled self prophecy,
if precision is not perfected--
devotion can never wait for job, faith, or love;
a lonely life wasted in chunks of decades
devoid of contact can lead to precision
or tremendous amounts of depression

But a paradigm can adjust and a doorway opens
when it does jump, opportunity is a bitch
and no one wants to be the last one at the party.





Sanctimonious Man

My bed ain’t made
My beard ain’t shaved
Unrelenting anxiety sets in
To entertain a condition of sacrifice
Rather than selfishness
To take what you need
Rather than take for the sake of needing

No apologies found
No mind boggling puzzles
Just straight intensity dealt with
To reach a certain frankness
That cannot be salvaged from authority
A righteousness to right wrongs
Even if wrongs are committed in the act

Fuck no wine left in the bottle
Harmony with an uneasy appetite
Unsatisfaction came as a gift to some
Like a den of starving rattle snakes
But others driven to sin by normalcy
Bible belt prisoners converted with promises
lined with gambling, pussy, and booze.