temporarily untitled
I envy the man that lives in an hour glass
to have the billowing pillar of sand
hesitating on his head before crashing
to the gold floor.
I fantasize about inhaling the white grains
As a way to send a message to Father Time
To protest the rising numbers on the stopwatch
that he so inconsiderately
clicked.
Instead of the glass casing
I’m burning alive on a sundial
held by no chains
I might be suicidal or I just know
Dying won’t be so bad
As long as you give me three days and a cross and maybe a book deal too
I’m sure that’ll put me on the map
With a red carpet of conquest
and cameras (or is that my life?) flashing before my eyes
My vision barely cohesive through a screen door of
spots
as I feel the kaleidoscope migraine rising
crushing my skull like
a blood pressure cuff
except the tourniquets tied too tight
and the dial has mistaken itself for a speedometer
going 140 too fast
I guess that last drink
had consequences
It’s about the same as when
you accepted a coffee table for a coffin
and saw a reflection of yourself in a white picket fence.
Never understood your
salutation to paradise
was living in a house that looks the same
as your neighbors.
The stained glass window in your bedroom really
caught me off guard.
But I’m not interested in spiritual revivals or
satanic handshakes
I’m only trying to stay afloat in
hedonistic waters
that I’ve mistaken for romance
Can my head please surface long enough
to give me energy through oxygen
enough motivation to
finish that book
or kiss that girl
or go to college
or not go into the 1890 knife business
or leave my much deserved mark on the world
Just give me a moment to look at myself in the mirror
to see my how ragged my face looks
how a wrinkled and bloated zeppelin
has eclipsed the once attractive, angular features
I’ll come in confrontation with my reflection
and just see the face of a clock
with a twelve tattooed on my forehead
and a six on my chin
and a second hand counting down
Yeah I’d love to finish something
but I’m out of time.
