It’s like I’m walking
Home from school,
Counting the houses
That look the same.

It’s like I’m skipping
The cracks again,
Humming the tune
Inside of my head.

It’s like my shoe laces
Keep coming undone
No matter how much
I tie them up.

I pick at the thread
Hanging off of my sweater,
Not bothering to bend down
And double-knot.

And then when I trip,
I sit
And wonder
Why.

Some poems don't
work.
No amount of
tweaking will
fix it.
You can't finger it until
it comes.

Push the delete
button and
start over.
You write because
you have to.
It's in your cells.

You're a salmon,
swimming up
stream to stay
alive.
You write because
the nuthouse yawns,
and beckons.
It waits.

The cage door is
open, and the
water is
tainted with
mercury.
Fly away, or die.

If the writing
isn't working,
go fishing,
eat a tangerine or
some brussel sprouts.
Be livid
Be silly.
Study the *****
and the orchid.

Think about what the
color black tastes like, or if
pink whispers or yells.
And write until
the trivialities take
flight from your
life.
In the surrendering,
triumph will come.

Where is it you long to be
To be heard, seen, or loved
Or to be unnoticed, a sight no one sees
Hiding away, nestled far in some coved

What is it you hope to find
An answer or a reason
Doesn’t it mess with your mind
Or is it mundane as such another season

Who are you still clinging to
For a fool can be loyal as well
Do they even have a clue
Or are you too afraid to admit you fell

When will the time come
To the point where you don’t waste your life away
In your ears do you not hear the beat of the drum
Or have you run out of words to say

Is it a ramble or is it necessary
Look in the mirror is it me you see
Am I your adversary
Or am I what you could be

Each night I dream a deep blue sky
A place where only birds could fly
Each morn I lie awake
Wondering who else made that mistake

Many of men I’ve seen waste their dime
Trying to hold and buy back time
It’s a common misconception
Often laced with deception

For a wise man knows, it’s the foolish who ask
And it’s the blind who lead the mass
Many search and few find
But so is the many that falls behind

I myself have seen my eyes full of fire
Burning to know true desire
So where do I fit?
Yet who am I to question it

I could spend a lifetime is search of freedom
Only to be left with a sea full of conundrums
Of each problem to ever exist
And temptations I have to resist

So, I’ve become the fool at hand
While time slips through my fingers like sand
Now it's too late for me to understand
That it’s the devil that haunts a hungry man