I can’t tell how I’m doing simply standing
in the corner with the air out and the heat
all pouring in. I don’t know where to begin
but I am forced to by the winter wolf
that chases me at night when I am sleeping
and continuing to never know my dreams.
I can’t find my way out of the bowling alley
and nobody is helping me even though
they are watching as I shake apart the doors,
they snicker quietly at every single struggle.
Give me something to do, a tail to chase
the day away, and keep the haunted memories
at arms length so that I can meet them equally.
Tell me about old vacations where you got
sunburned while getting too drunk by the motel
pool with women you had barely even met before.
I am afraid to speak up about the spiders
in the drain that crawl out from them
all crooked, and uncertain where the webs
they weave will take them
when the morning comes.
I want to be nocturnal in the realest sense.
I want to sit in a tree all night and make noise
like the owls and crows we all ignore.
I will return the CD I borrowed like I promised
when you placed it in my hand
when every band is just the build up
to a TV broadcast funeral where everyone
attending is all too positive
that you and I are lame.

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