Tears/Steam/Phoenix/Dream

Tears, falling from the ceiling and crawling down the walls,
collect into a pool of memories of you.Smiles that once warmed me,
conform into something new, exiled. Each piece drops a different scene,
Congealing together, I see your sharp teeth for the first time,
that opiate you drilled in me is worn out,
It’s absence resounds the Banshees Theme,
Every waking moment, a dream of limbo,
a dream of waking.

Shaking Seems To Clean Me.
Breaking out reams, Scribing
A Chicken-scratch soliloquy.

Tears, at first only leaking, pick up steam and
the Geysor hits the fan that slings it all so violently
at the walls, Scrapes the paint off. The abrasive
flows over me, the Pool began a puddle,
now the puddle is enveloping My feet
I feel the memories soak in, skin softens,
up my shins, Dissolving, now, Dissolving,
realizing my insolvency to you,
it’s at my knees, as here I sit,
no want to stand, Over my hips,
elbows on knees it’s over my hands,
rising, the cold is making me shake and
shiver, past the point of no return
it’s over my scripture, over my navel,
So icy cold it starts to burn,
I start to scream, But lung capacity is breached,
as the levels reach up my chest, I plunge my face
full force into the water I am Cleansing.
Cleansing.
Cleansing

Waking seems to cleanse me,
Floating in a sea of memories;
Perceive it ending.

Open my eyes, see the pages I’ve transcribed,
feel them wet as newborn babes,
Look up to the sky, ceiling dry,
It’s raining outside,
pitter
patter
pitter
patter
no more onto the page,
from my face. I wipe my eyes.
Taste the tears.
It’s all mine.

Personell

There’s a personnel center, somewhere in America, I don’t know where, but it’s there.
Inside, Keys Click, wrappers crunch, lips sip, following the script.
Insipid. Designed to exist in a box and mind this list of tasks
Word for word the work is dispersed, procedure and policy
Polished in simplicity, A to B to C to D, it’s no longer prerequisite
To be a sentient being, much like machines, man-made to stand
Resisting the fall, Pillars and walls, desktops and screens,
Pictures of familiar faces decorate each personal space.
Little variation, exceptions for the carpets and coffee mugs
A clash of shapes and colors, most gaudy. Still the
Pillars and walls stay, supporting the structure, connecting
A grounded foundation As tall as you’ve worked to erect, and if done correctly,
The sky is your setting; sitting ascended, splendid in bidding
No glass ceiling.
The walls enclose on those within. No more horizon or starlight sky,
Not for the time being…
There’s a personnel center, scripted in America, tucked between
Neighboring Small Businesses, in a strip mall of cubicle bearing walls,
Windows no bigger than computer screens. Physically open spaces, caved in.
Train (of thought) Tracks for these sapien to latch to, they follow that
Path, Polished, Pristine. No Alarms. No Surprises. Welcome
To the intelligent design.

Corporate Monotony

White lights, undilated pupils, anxiety and hate.
Submission. Slight spikes in credit every Friday
12:00 A.M. – Plastic keycard, Magnetic strip.
White light, undilated pupils, Anxiety and hate.
Stagnance. Split screens 23 inch monoliths
Information of this century. Shines. Glare.
Eyes in a blank stare. Mind- Where did you go?
Into those
White lights? Undilated pupils reverberate.
A quick rub, my hands shake.
Anxiety and hate.