the skyline of the borderland

i am walking the empty streets of the frozen city...stepping over acres and acres of corpses strewn among the garbage and rotting valentine's flowers...they are waiting for the spring thaw so they can again become a part of the earth...decompose and melt away like last night's snowfall...i have been haunting the dive bars listening to everyone...the loud mouths, spewing nonsense into the air, hoping that someone or something will hear them over the sirens and car horns...hoping their voices will rise above the cavernous skyscrapers and make their way onwards to the great big-shot in the sky...they are looking for a listening ear among the uncaring, searching for someone who won't talk back but hear their prayers and do something, anything for them...the selfish skies are filled with snow, the lonely lots are filled with last year's junk...people and more people, sapping the energy, and filling my eyes with regret...

i like the dark

the evaporating years...i remember carrie ford; chasing her around my bedroom at five years old...and i remember seeing her in high school and being disgusted at my toddler tastes...somewhere in the distance we all wander and wish for a day for ourselves...a day where we don't wake up at three a.m. extricating ourselves from our scaly skin...goddamn! leaping from our bodies, bones and all...get me the fuck out of this place!...and for what?...another night under the waning moon?...aw shit, you know it ain't about that...and it makes you feel like you just fell off the turnip truck...it means as little and as much as the wind chill, as last night's empty bottle, as your lost soul, and your sweet little angel in her double wide...so search the chimney tops, and your fucking lemon drops, and all you will find is the infinite lullaby...

days of dayquil, nights of nyquil

goddamn french, why can't i get this wine bottle open...either the cork gives way and slides nicely into the blood red liquid or i start drinking drain cleaner...i start inhaling redi-whip, i start gunning robitussin, i find some airplane glue, old weed, shoe polish, rat poison...listening to two dollar lay, and as hot time harv says, "for two bucks i'll go all the way"...i could put on some pants and stumble to the bodega, but what good would that do...the emptiness can only be held at the door for so long...the hours flowing feverishly like the bloated river...swallowing up the white-trash on its banks...there goes ole mark twain, floating by on a riverboat, chuckling at the confusion and human misery...laughing at your pain from an estate in connecticut, twirling his mustache...to hell with this place, it isn't a far fall...where is the fucking snow! what happened to the februaries of my youth that would freeze you out, knock you down, and spit in your frozen face...the expensive vodka is gone and only my whithered face remains...