Optimism Prime

Revamp(ire)

Reboot life via telephone wire

Call on yourself

To be someone else

Suck your old life out of black veins

Spit in scarlet and new

Cold and quiet and leaving that old corpse blue

I never take pictures, not even on Halloween

We went to all the trouble of dressing up troubling

A special pocket in the purse, snug home for the camera

Where it sat all night; neglected

Finding ourselves too busy making memories

Letting them run free of capture

Going to Court

12 or 6
Jurors or pallbearers
Die or be judged?
I'll take my chances on double the enemies
And risk being hung anyway.

Good Intentions.

Wouldn't it be nice if everyone's heart was in the right place?

No.

Those places are never the same

And stretch from me to Lucifer

What is that road to Hell paved with again?

Stress is like

and then I asked why you were taking the turns so hard? like a skier veering back and forth on slopes over snow instead of roller skates over roadkill instead of blades over ice instead of wheels over slick asphalt instead of talking there is only acceleration of the needle on the speedometer and the beat of my temples to pulse and my voice. The engine only got louder fighting with the broken radio and the cliff only got closer and then

Actual conversations are naturally the best kinds.

"You know Mom, when Dad is wasted, he goes through with wrestling with the dog, he doesn't just stand there, bluffing."

I'm making spaghetti, by the way.

You can watch the pot all you want
Beg it not to
It's still going to boil
And you can cook hot enough to kill
Both the germs and the nutrients
It'll still be hot but it won't taste good
Damned if it stops the empty calories
From being shoved down anyway.

Damned roots.

Ripe cherry tomatoes in an otherwise wilting salad;
I drop into the water and watch the scarlet sinkers search for something,
Plopping softly with blatant disregard for the ripple
Hoping to hop into caves where they can burst in peace
In a place without the horned hedonists haunting
My ever growing dreamscape of demons with
Ever more dastardly deeds.
I'd rather find somewhere else to grow
Than keep trying to evade
Take my fruits to the lake
And part of me without salt
(for my salty demon demeanor)
will sink

I've gotten a lot better at dealing with rumors.

You body is wasting away faster than my concern for the knives you spit at me.
It's easy to dodge atrophied insults.
It's easy to resist the urge to air the dirty laundry.
That stinking pile you won't shut up long enough to swallow.
It's easy to float on the pond scum you create.
And laugh while you scream from the bottom of your shallow pool.
At a point one's anger becomes nothing more than a punchline for another.
Always.

Sappy Nature Imagery.

The maples are half commited to turning,

still in causual flirtation with autumn
And uprepared for fluffy fragrant dusting
Falling into Fall
Bright candied burning leaves
Velvetine antler trees
Frosted branches and sugared blooms
Deceptive slush too early
For snow cone rain.

Null.

It's pulling awful guilt over the happiest you've ever been in your life. It's like being choked with your favorite food.

We can only accept what we think we deserve.

Before you wallow your way down a sad path, 

remember every dark circle like tree rings sinking 

into soft issues around optic nerves is 

hard earned 

and equally deserved 

like a sick manifestation of evil to take pride in. 

And the barbed wire pouring through every pore 

of your tongue and tickling your teeth 

is a constant reminder that you are only hurting yourself the more you speak. 

We're are all waiting for something.

Nerves so brittle your wrists crack and bristle 

and accentuate every wince your brain makes while 

you think yourself into angry coma of confusion consuming

Calling all cars to your hardware in need of repair