Hey, times change.
Bad days fold and unfold like the pages under the pen
that grazes against my skin.
Point your finger at the abstract thought…
Whichever one brings you to sing and makes my eyes burn so hot.
Testing the water in everything.
Oil mixed with contemplation.
You can’t stop all this.
Thanks a lot.
Please
move forward in line.
I’m the riot.
This is a twisted kind of fun.
(Didn’t we kill each other in an earlier round?)

Punched holes, inked in our souls,
and stinging chemicals
spiking and (en)lightening
the day.
Let me write it down and sing it this morning
save and share it for tonight,
cause there is only one kiss left
and it must be right.
Light my cigarette up.
Puff puff.
First and last etches in my mental
like “Forever.”
Day and night
lace or leather?

Loose and yet so tight
in the motion of my lips.
Torn between how my muscles rip
and my awareness trips
against the wavelength given off in air.
Pure oxygen is in despair.
Thanks a lot
for throwing me off.
Enjoying normality with medication and
some water.
Why even bother?
I realize my blood is all I’ll have.
Time and again, the good act too bad.
(Didn’t we kill each other in an earlier round?)

And I’m always still here, unless I’m dead,
then I’m gone.
Stuck with myself,
so f*ck off anyone else
that forsakes what I am here!
Sober and gettin’ (my) head clear(ly)
from cob webs.
I care (Not for hate)
and either way, this is never-resting.
So let me go let it go.

Mike O’Toole