Live, Laugh, Love

Karma is a name to which the pedestrian assigns their failures
They persist that people who have outgrown them will “pay”
Seeing the world from a slanted point of view is what they want
Go forth and react,
Don’t think
Don’t hold a candle to anyone’s sense of self,
Keep them in darkness…
Karma is a loser’s lunch,
Everyone seems to be full.

33rd and 7th

The thirst of beauty
The cup of angels,
No one is quenched
You are a classic case of the purloined letter that no one bothers to read
Yet you make yourself known with steam and pen knife
The vocabulary is running down the parchment like life’s blood.
You are hiding in your truest grit,
Sweeping all the good parts under the rug
Taking it to the incinerator room,
Wishing you saw what I saw…
Wishing you knew what I know
I’ll kiss your cold shell, your forehead, in that mahogany entrapment
Walking away to a bar,
To its bathroom
To have a furious panic attack in between key bumps of pure Roy Keane…
Just to live my years without you,
Both of us,
Stiffed.