purge me of
disgrace,
wipe stains from
my stained glass face..
hides not my
age,
relieve all
punctured parts
that flaunt the
freshest
marks
on oak bark
carved.
dreamt my
birth
and of distractions of
the lifetime that
followed
without direction
determined,
no purpose
defined,
awkwardly walking that dark
crooked line.
a bird of prey
bloodied
grey
sails reverse
in sky spitting piss and grit,
i spy neighbors
strut,
from screen door that
never shuts,
through mesh that lets in
all the bugs.
a mug of earl grey to
chase the
day,
as mind floods with
fragments,
his nine o’clock shadow
like tacks down
my cheek,
kid’s supper served cold
in a dented tin
bowl..
quit watching
me eat!!
the crinkle of a
gum packet
in bottomless
pocket–
day’s lone
form of entertainment,
mustache prickles
upper lip,
left-side sleeve hangs
ripped,
unfocused with no sense
of purpose.
drool bubble bursts
brain drained
by thirst,
more trouble
talk,
a loaded
queue,
no break in
sight
my bottle
sweats,
split-shift
tonight,
i crawl with
time.
a dusty first
aid kit,
on a shelf,
in the corner of
an empty
kitchen
waiting for next
hint of
blood
to open
up.
called my tale
a lie
as shadows
of characters gushed
of flourishing
years
in star stuffed
yards
weeded once upon
a time,
but now lawn
yellows
like smiles that know they’re
all for show.
another curbside
pickup-
old frames missing
glass,
photographs as if they
could be crawled
into to
die..
glaring from the
other side–
at an exiled
sofa
that did not withstand the
burn marks of
our kind.
looking up
paint drips from the brush
onto my lips, the cool tones soothe
amending mood, i swallow dust
and pry my eyes still
caked with rust..
of sleep yet on my tongue
lips now numb from
colour lust,
looking up, who do i trust?
the one with his hand on the brush?
hands in the garden 
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