Unfeeling Chills

Small slits do not drain
poison from alien limbs,
unfeeling chills numb.


I relapsed, unimaginably so, into my
childhood dreams framing them
beside one another. Painstakingly I
paint, each emotion from memory in
an attempt to provide color to a greyscale that
slides ambiguously from light to shadow.
I linger, hesitant to pause, still shading the past as
moving on is a challenge that I do not willingly accept.


A sandstone well in the oasis of an urbanization
fits impossibly precise to the brick shells strangers call home.

I draw from that well, pulling muddied water
soiled from the community’s negligence and I drink some.

Each sip brings me closer to an exorcism of the demons
I cannot fight, fear is formless, and heated ropes sear my hands.

Again, deceit passes my lips entering a chamber of secrets
and it floods, unfortunately, my demons know how to swim.

Status Quo

Asphalt cracks,
blossom in
overgrowth from
uninhibited weeds
bearing resemblance
to our
status quo.
Below average
becomes average,
and inner-city
students wilt
splitting seams,
in education,
forced unraveling
by students
falling. Failing.
Both weeds
get cut
before they
can live.


Inside our outer circle a single
act, regurgitates justice: stealing, no,
sealing away approximations of
clarity as perspectives grow, callousing,
until entirely entrenched in abbreviated arrogance
over a verdict of unanimity.
Slowly stealing their second chance,
empty promises soon become
as material as the rain.


City lights endure,
permitting protection from darkness
cutting into the general surroundings, with
unequaled brilliance. I, alone in the night
lost in clarity as a memorandum of
fog, forged by decaying cigarettes, left
unattended by pedestrian eyes signaling to me the
cracks in the sidewalk that supports the city.
Supporting the daily commute and crime,
murdering my childish smile when one cigarette
smolders out making me notice
blood drops on the concrete.