skonen_blades

The shaved arugula that makes up my excuse for a hangover ex-wives the plantation owner of my receding hairline.
It’s not like there are tiny pinatas in my eyes that look for children with sticks.
It’s not I’m made of diplomas from schools that don’t exist.
It’s not that I’m all kite and no string
It’s not that I’m all string and no kite
It’s that I’m a ravaged hippopotamus caving in on himself.
And excuse for an ostrich to refuse to stick his head into the sand
I’m wet and cold on the beach
Cancer Christmas-lights my organs
I have measles on my easels
I’m a foot long horndog
I eat pieces of shit like you for brunch
If it wasn’t for my oversized sense of fair play, I would have beaten you fair and square a long time ago
I’m not a macho man
I’m a ring leader
I’m not a ring-tailed lemur
I’m a horse trader
The other night I made out with a lamp
Tomorrow I’m getting engaged to electricity
I’m underwater and I’m an electrician
I’m a shock to my own system
I self fibrillate
If it wasn’t for stormclouds and patents I’d have eaten my own pancreas
I don’t deserve a medal, I deserve an anchor
Colds catch me out of the corner of their eye
I click-clack on the porthole to the universe
Morse coding a crossword to the powers that are benign
I’m a rattling passive question, hoisting my own petards up and going pantless down the marriage trench
If it wasn’t for Star Wars, I wouldn’t know what mysticism and religion were
I’m a Christmas present wrapped in fur for a peta orphanage
I laugh in the face of spaghetti
You’re not a number. You’re a square root.
You’re a peg-legged bumblebee
You’re a windshield rushing at an idea before it caves it’s own asshole in through it’s own brain on impact against the clarity of the glass
You could no more avoid it that you could avoid a moose of destiny
At least it’s not fatal, you cry to your pillowing crash bag as it breaks your nose
At least it’s not a siren lulling you to the big sleep
You dance and you sway
You pull the door open
This is needing a taller desk.
This is needing a keyboard that’s more ergonomic
This is trying out new things.
I’m not the one the ocean sings for.
I just translate.
I take no responsibility for greatness
That is the mantra
That has to be the mantra
You need to force the steps until they come naturally
You need to horse doggle the flindars until they hump up the stairs on their own
You need to lullaby the snakes until they ties themselves around your wrists
Making planes stand at attention until the rap lyrics write themselves
You’re no Michaelangelo
You’re little more than a Jobs
I’m sold darkness to demons and pictures to photographers
I’m a book on how to find your way
Reading itself
The translations are pending and so are the patents
I’m not a parent but I play one on tv
I’m Troy McShure
I’m a happening cat but in actuality, all cats are happening
So I guess I’m not that special
But I am the common miracle that every person is
I mean if only statistically
I wish that my paper balloon animals wouldn’t origami popcorn
And that my home movies would stop being so filled with promise
I with that Oscar nominations weren’t a curse and that churches weren’t afraid to walk the street at night.
I wish that every lift ticket had a job to come home to
And that I didn’t want to be a porn star in night vision 3d VR films
I wish my green scales looked better on dragons
I wish my fish breath worked better as a spine
I wish that everyone’s struggle wasn’t such a struggle even though I recognize the gateway
Some doors don’t open and we beat ourselves bloody by knocking face first until the funeral wraps our impact in its graveyard catcher’s coffin mitt
Not to baseball death
There is no metaphor
There is no time
There is no friend in me
I left for another place a long time ago
And I can never come back
But I can parallel
I can go forward/outward
I can reach
I can shed fear
I can be impossible
I can help
I can answer the riddle
I can dance until the broken wheels of my legs become whole again
I can Chinese food the fortunes back to the stock market strength again
But first I have to realize that I was never strong
And I was never here
I don’t have to be the biggest or the best
I just have to last
And persevere.

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Maybe the thing that screws most people up
While grinding them down
Is that this life is nothing but beginnings.

It passes the responsibility onto the user
Every second contains the possibility of change
For the attainment of dreams

Much was decided before you were born
Your life is your fault and no one else’s
These are not contradictory statements

We are living Schroedinger lives
Super-string puppets of unpredictable systems
Every second collapses into a solid state

A lopsided number 8 of repeating chaos
As unpredictable as the weather
A messy child’s tracing of infinity

We see the future by working towards it



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