Contents Under Pressure:

I’m through apologizing for cobain.
I’m finished with reality tv.
I’m resolutely denying any association
But I’m sure old friends will continue to drop by.

I’m stealing glances for the last time.
I’m grinning through your big scene.
I’m laughing when there is no punch line.
But I’m sure I can update my resume.

I’m taking no responsibility for graffiti.
I’m ignoring the shared jolt of my head and bricks.
I’m threatening an artistic slowdown.
But I’m sure to find faces, ghoulish faces…

In the blood…

Splattered on your wall.

Dry Wall

psyclone retellings
huckleboned transactions
and occational contributions
become fanatical ruptures
naturally convincing
mortified and disappointing
details of miraculous
biographical conversations
going so far as to actually
suit the other's proportions
in outline format
against the dry wall