Lost Khajiit

Don’t Call, Crazy

You’re gone, I see a car crash
That’s how it always starts –
Asphalt, glass, blood on the dash
No more beats left in your heart –
And my hand is my pocket
And I leave it
And I don’t call
I’m not crazy after all

You’re gone, I see a stick-up
Like that’s ever gonna happen –
It’s a juice bar, a door down from a gym
Not a 24-hour gas station –
There it goes, hand’s in my pocket
But I leave it
And I don’t call
I’m not crazy after all

God’s Closet

burn burn burn
god’s closet’s full of birds
and the devil’s closet
doesn’t ever run out of room

burn burn burn
god’s closet door is open.
on the floor, a couple birds
they couldn’t fit there anymore

burn burn burn
a long weekend spent in hell
so his father’s closet
doesn’t sit ajar anymore

All You’re Worth

he knocked on the door and said
I want to learn
but the fools they locked him out
they said
bring us a check for all you’re worth
and we’ll see if you’re worth our time
so he ran home fast
asked his mom for a check
because his dad was away at work
she said
here son
and gave him a check for all his family was worth

he knocked on the door the next day and said
please I’ve brought the check
but the fools they took the check and tore it
they said
you must not want to learn

so he walked away
but didn’t go home –

glaziers iced skyscrapers with sparkling panes of glass
painters covered yellow houses with white paint
farmers fed their cattle

the fools they didn’t watch
didn’t care

he was taught a lesson on linear perspective
by the road and the golden dashes

– and didn’t bother moving fast
for there was nothing waiting for him

no title 7

pull back brother,
put the cage on craigslist
and your bird won’t sing
the blues no more

sleep tight brother,
slip the noose from your neck
and your bird will be
there in the morning

Tell Me (How it Happened)

Tell me, where’s your daughter
When you cash her father’s checks
That keep those walls up
And bought that Cadillac for you

Tell me, where’s that girl you were
When you bus to work each morning
Why’d you trade those boots and that van
For this government job you have

Tell me, how can you open your eyes
When you come to in the morning
After dreaming that your loved ones’ lives
Will end up just like yours did

no title 6

there’s cougars and bears here
she said but he didn’t care
it was too dark
to see them
anyway

no title 5

sticks and a torn up t-shirt
is what he made it from
it floated sure
it even held weight
like the stack of
nonfiction books
he had sent
to the middle of the lake
and left there

when they found it
they took it
and untied it
and tried
to mend the t-shirt
but couldn’t
it was wet and
torn by fingers and sticks

they folded him up
under a collared shirt
and a pair of
ironed pants
and told him
don’t do that again
with
a stick that tore at his skin

he thought he escaped
so he went to the lake
in his robes and all
to do
what
he always
wanted
to do

but he drowned

A Randeau

The individual is something more
than was his peers decide to take him for.
He lives for himself if he does it right
and stands with what he feels even at night
despite making him monetar’ly poor.

Collectivists will try to quell his flame,
but within him that flame burns just the same
to warm the very essence of his core
because he knows that he is something more.

The smallest minority is himself.
He needn’t worry for everyone else,
long as they drop their ideals to the floor
and realize that they can be something more.
Remove Rand’s “Fountainhead” off from the shelf
and apply her ideas to yourself.

Following an Essay on “Great Expectations”

AP Lit tests are oh so dumb
They leave me feeling very glum
I’ve wasted all my days away
Studying all literary
Like Dickens’ or like Pip Pirrip’s
My family doesn’t give two shits
How well I do, but here’s a secret:
Charles Dickens? Didn’t read it.

King Parasite

King Parasite has many friends
Delicious means to vicious ends
To everyone involved it sucks
Especially you and your King Parasite

He sucks you dry and sees you cry
Open cupboard door; you need some more
You fill it up; brim of our cup
He sucks again until your end
He makes your children’s means his friend’s

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