Wet Socks


It was a wet tingly sensation
above my ankles while my hysteria
beared down on my chest

at the end, my superficial cool
and skin level fly curtly
packed away and left

when my demons showed;
my toes swished around
in years of undisclosed hurt

preparing themselves eagerly
to hunt me down and
lay my bones under dirt

inconspicuously in despair
I waived my socks barely above
the window guard in distress

impassively I wait for
either the end or for a savior
from this perpetual mess

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Vanity


Lost in Gaze
and irregular how
my time still stands, still

be numbed in my little
boy ways, marveling
at myself aged in will

fantastically, I’ll hide away
all what’s left
of my adolescent air

flaunting my tousled
superficial and gone
too far in a stare

Castaway


Reluctantly I pushed away
somehow blending in, flattened
along with old drops of rain

left with nothing but my
inner voice, deep floating
along in my clouded brain

I chose, repossesing my heart
over from ulterior motives
to my claim to fame

a musty funk, from slow dragging
my heavy heart across someone
else’s cold and rippled terrain

once again, I’m prey
perspiring my forever
want to be loved

floating along without a kiss
or a hug, on to the next
to be pushed and shoved

Deliverance


Their wings sputtered
off as I meditated on
my own plans to be

living my life each day
better, on the run
waiting on a right time to flee

envisioning myself in flight
and hard detached, like hell
tapped me on my back

praying He’d blast me off
fast, so that the tail of my shirt
flapped like flames on attack

Peace; enough for when
I´m forced to look back
it will have all been diminished

spending eternity in warmth,
basking in His light from
a flight well finished

Readying For Athanasia


From dusk till dawn
I spread my wings
after I neatly
laid my skin

resiliently showing
off my skeleton
putting on air
from deeply within

preparing my guts
to rot, and distinguishably
waiting for the time
to be extinct

living out my dreams,
availing myself to
what I know to be,
immortal instinct

6 Train


I’m underground;
under town with
my head in my lap

slumped over laid,
incognito
undisturbed in my nap

I don’t mind
that my mind is fried, unstirred
and plopped over hard

fearful of none, while my
appearance stares you
down and boldly stands guard

hiding my high
with my brim
down low

riding around
in my darkness
with nowhere to go

Walking Dead


Somewhere looking for life
there’s a pair of shoes and
hands walking on all fours

frantically despaired
in whimp, he began as a Docent
brazenly knocking on doors

lead by bread crumbled
tears, lost on
a barefoot trail

It’s just some body
looking for a body
and the last time, he failed

kicking around his cans of sorrow
with short arms, still distant
from what used to be out of reach

abandoned hearts and
abandoned ways, a castaway
mute on speech

muted solitary confinement
with a blast-
phemous sin, he cried out loud

above the concrete
a Soul Rose again,
way above the clouds