I’m getting it, or it’s getting me.

Switch to def-con four

dodging red arrows shot from cherubs.

When the first “need to see” is told

and I resist thinking about,

my thoughts wander

to heartbeats and blood flows

bringing life back to the lifeless.


I’ve got it, or it’s gotten me.

Grabbed hold of strings tugged

and swat away at the fat babies

flying all around and stinging me

to fuck with creative juices

that flicker and threaten to wink out.

Another candle is lit for the young

stupid, childish, juvenile doings

and I’m thinking oops, cause it’s back

The last pine once forgotten, now lost,

but a new candle starts to burn,

and I try to blow it out.


I’ve got it bad, or it has possessed me.

Thoughts circle around one

during love songs on the radio.

My wandering mind

wonders upon nourishment

I am at def-con two

as meals are skipped.

My Jones goes into an outbreak

sensing her in the vicinity.

All juice is concentrated and frozen.

I see nothing but my habit.


I’ve got it real bad and the battle is lost

The little fat fucking cherubs

strike me down, an arrow in the chest.

Heart and head explode in a mushroom cloud

that my Jones happily snorts.

I reach def-con one as everything else stops

and she completes, all I see, in my world.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s