split second

and in an instant
the plan changes.
scheduled words are pushed to the side.
following the train becomes
entertainment
and i
jump off and on to see what happens.

stereo art omission

thoughts of inspiration
come true
lead me to believe
i must follow that path
to create
to be inspired
to write
dig deep
the shit that lays on ink
in excess
my destruction
will descend on shoulders.
i roll dice
speed up yellow
slow down yellow
look into the empty bottle
search for the white roll
keep suppliers one step removed
to negotiate the minefield of creativity.

on my way to become

the basquiat moment passed
and yet
i still clutch the rum bottle.
no longer
do i perform civil acts
the well is nearly dry
and i
play in the mud
suck patches of liquid
until all that remains
is the scent of puerto rico
bouncing off glass walls.
the night is old and broken
i watch the decay bloom
imagine nanobots repair
build knock down the remains of the day.
i talked to laughter
wax poetic
analyzed life love relationships.
the questions stay unanswered
but she told me to treat it as an experiment
now, the question becomes
how mad do i become?
the test must be recorded and retold.
she is almost gone
and i will keep kissing her
until she disappears.