worst offender’s
prayer
on two teabag
thursday,
talking dirty more
than we like
to party
favors
for accolade,
praise be
backroom guest
won’t perform upon
request.
stream of conscious
midst tire fire
times,
in bloodshot
unease-
arrows through
feathers-
a skeletal skyline
shimmers
as if to prove
she’s still
there.
mirror image
mirage
in blood pumped
puddle
lips on horizon
parting-
pleading cloud
escape
to labyrinths dark
and safe.
fanning freakish
fashion
for
excesses
plotted too
intense
for zen of modern
moment,
reached too low
to feel my
toes
worm into
the wet.
settling into enough
space-out,
too much..
too flatline filler
for offlined mind
to suckle,
porchlight
flutters,
call the mongrel
by pseudo
name,
drag it in before storm
kicks beneath
the belt-
flinches felt
but not
seen.
was promised then
dismissed
what giving in
undid,
watched welts behoove
wings,
wept into wall
of winds,
fastened lid on jar
of screams
to have it shatter
in fingers.
would they remember
what was
hid
where
flies won’t find
By
Midnight
peeling planets
from
relic treehouse
ceiling,
dangling
stars
like tinsel earring
prom queen
fantasy
in fading
car,
pity you still
shame
me
for not praising
all must
sees..
how long lost
we are.
winter semester’s
leftovers
flake
like
chalk
contours me
where aspirations
fell asleep,
screen flickers with
a younger
cast
poorly paid and
painted
over
convocation
portrait
of
any student forced
to ignore
spills
on dorm room
carpets,
swagger up to
muted
mic
stand side by
pride
with any
fool in room,
name his genius,
curse his
luck-
snicker like his jokes
don’t suck.
she flashes queens
to show who
leads
with
courtly will
finds us flower
framed
and mounted for
the masses,
gossip at the
gallows
shrill
and hollow,
sinking to my knees,
in lethargy-
not
to appease.
hands in the garden 
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