guttered english

Last Night and Kinda

and maybe you want some of me.
and maybe you will, all of me.

I’m a graduate of cardboard
lives, meaning what I mean.

meet a girl just to tell her
I’m nothing.

meet a girl. quit my job;
the one that doesn’t

pay. she knows
I’m nobody.

just to see
her skype,

eyes pretending
sleep’s alright.

and if we get by

we’ll speak drugs
or not, or lit.

it’s good to know
we’re all of it.

eyes, eyes,

I’ve not started

Existence Spared

shivers because once is a lifetime;
     nobody will ever be quite this.

so what to say and how best?
     not a trademark when
     breath is a signature;
     the quest, our literature;

     and to rest is why we’re sure
     the hold of each other,
     what’s said from one to another,
     even the silent look of our brother

     is worth any damned destined mess,

slivers because I stuck my stake

     through forever.

Cream to Change the Color

The barista never stops smiling,
I notice, even with an empty line.

Swear when she took my order
there was a ‘leave room for rum?’

Should just toss my coff and ask
what she’s on. Drugs or love?

No, I know, she feels decent today.
Enough at least. Enough for some.

Good for her. And for real.
Gotta emulate that. And medless.

But seriously, how to feel spirited
and what to do with good health?

I sense lips on me and they’re
not for kissing.

Okay, no more. Remove myself
to sit outside behind the bricks.

Blank face it with the sun.
See too much with the flies.

So You Drink Wild Turkey Coz You're Hunter?

On a scene she would laugh with the crowd.
I didn’t know how. Were the jokes funny?
I didn’t know how they were jokes.
But I’m a serious guy who thinks everything
is funny. So when I laugh,
I fucking gut it out to a
seriously hard-picked Cosby sweater
for some thirty below.
If I had a job, I’d show up like I used to.
Gravel truck without a driver’s.
I can still rock.
And lifestyles are
for shivs.

Starving Potential

But I know not how to go about the day.
And those that try to help me aid me but
I know better how to fail, I know much better.

It hurts to be this much alive and have what I got
to give and do zero with it, tell the world this is it,
not quite given up but complacent in done none of it.

What’s real and it all hurts and I don’t spend nights
crying, I just let them pass, and I feel fed up inside,
dead inside, unreal inside, terribly on the inside.

Tell You Sore

Made an imbecile outta myself.
Said many things.
Said those things with the
only way I can. They
must matter. Made a fool
outta my possibility. Smile
about it. Walking places,
alone and always, thinking of
times I did things and smiling.
Tell anyone you love them
coz you can. And if they’re
as crazy, feel them out.
Never mattered where.
Only what I’ve said
right inside the ear.