POETRY: BLAZE

I
Behind that smile you’ll quietly rot.
Who’s going to save your soul from your mind?
As I break upon you like glass on rock.
Love may be king, but love’s not been kind.

II- Blaze
I blaze through the night
finding sweet brevity in a shotglass of pain,
finding myself in a room filled with the
dying riffs of matching Gibson’s,
putting together pieces of a conversation
about how angels are just children.
I blaze.

I blaze through the days that burn me
fast in friction
this world is a non-relenting itinerary of clowns and gadgets
dollar dollar –a blatant fair trade for sanity.
The joyous feel of morning is so quickly diminished
into tasks redundant on the hardened skull,
so I pray for the night candle to fall off the bed
and blaze.

I blaze when life frees me, when it shows me
how simple and stupid I am.
All the times I shed my skin  my skin  my skin
to escape the memories crawling back there like insects in the dark
only to wind up in trashcan madness
bluntly served in empty bottles and broken records,
trying to escape the sounds of the machines  the machines  the MACHINES.
So I roll up.
So I blaze.

III
Some people talk a good game
but when the moment of truth comes
they’re just cockroaches when you turn on the lights.

IV
Her breath,
like a machine.
To what do I owe the pleasure
Of this forceful awakening?
Did you lose your keys, your sheep, your dreams?

Is the sun too hot,
the birds too loud,
or the wind too cold?

Are you growing old?

Did you lose your faith in humanity
or in the mirror?

Have the terrorists won?
Have the cats gone mad?
Are the idiots dancing on TV again?
Is there no hope on this
God-forsaken planet
for modern civilization?

Is your forehead hot?
Has your mother gone cold?
Has our love soured in the last hour or so?

I was dreaming,
you know that I’m only happy when I’m dreaming.
I’ll see you when I come back.
We can discuss your tribulations then.
I know…I know –God fucked us all.

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