This is how a sage is formed
this is how a saint is born
as you slumber in your cocoon of suffering
walled in by your own spittle and shite
twitching twisting thrashing
catching your own tail and devouring
the world’s collective knowledge
it stirs
that fierce, dark intelligence
it lurks
that savage, holy brilliance
caged in body and yet free to roam the ether
pierced by angelic spears and transfixed
with visions past, present and yet to be.

I hear your eyes turning toward me
I feel your ears tuning into my signal
I see your hands as they reach upward
holding your heart as your only offering
(small sacrifices for our imperfect artifices)
I perceive your thoughts and your apprehension
but release your fear
and rejoice my friend
this trail of agony is your path to ascension.

I am the deep-sea scroller
I see the world unfolding
from the smallest room
and now I see your doom.

Every answer begs a question
don’t let the truth distract you
every loser finds his brethren
don’t let the facts defeat you.

I am the dilettante lurker
I see the world reloading
while a cigarette burns
and now it hears my words.

Every answer begs a question
don’t let the rules define you
every loser finds his brethren
don’t let the game deceive you.

I’ve witnessed birthing trends
I’ve unpicked orphan threads
nothing’s new in this old world
nothing’s born that can’t be sold.

Every answer begs a question
don’t let that fool dismay you
every loser finds his brethren
don’t let the lost derail you.

For when I’ve read everything
for when every page is familiar
for when every story is predictable
for when every sentence
completes itself
I have found the place to retreat
to this house’s best and only seat
where I am and I shall remain
and compose myself to peace.

You will return
although your path may wander
you will rise
although your heart may falter
you will grow
although your world is smaller
you will survive
although your thoughts are stolen
you will rebel
although your cause is forgotten
you will decide
although your mind is troubled
you will endure
although your soul is wounded
you will shine
although your light is shrouded
you will return.

Among the restful scrub
where instinct has now lead me
where all my life has guided me
to make my final bed
to seek my lasting rest
I know nothing of reflection
I know nothing of desire
only my tenebrous recollection
preserves me from despair.

Curling into this familiar earth
comforting myself in torpidity
a hush has fallen
the wild is calling
hunting grounds so far away
and a lifetime left long behind
weary from my relict existence
becoming myth in my own time
I surrender.

Dysfunctionally now extinct
an endling yet not unique
there is no solace in my solitude
there is only a dreadful peace
and as I commence
this caliginous descent
I wonder
am I to become your trophy
or am I sandwich meat?

Writing in repose
whispering snippets of old lyrics
a soft rasp without a tone
a sliver of spirits
a slight and gentle bite
familiar and warm
a broad and formless night
disguising a creeping horizon
a heart-shaped ashtray
balanced to one side.

Dogs are barking
white eyed.

Time to turn in
for tonight.

No rest for the pickled
sleep when you’re bread
early riser
or late night survivor
determinedly baking
your pillow sandwich head
while daylight spreads
stubborn and begrudging
as reluctant to rise
as you are to shine.

I ate a dozen apples
devouring one after another
until their sweetness turned sharp
stinging in my jowl, my clenched jaw
aching with mechanical motion
like a cow grazing meditatively
I glutted myself with flesh and seed.

I slept all through the week
embracing each day like a pillow
clutched tight to my face
holding back a flood of contrition
reflexive jerk reaction to self-reflection
I padded my cell with layers of slumber
for a soft landing in the sea of dreams.

I burnt all of my blazing currency
flippant in a spiraling frenzy
until the lights blinked out
in one black moment, nothing
contained squarely and photo framed
until I broke my way out and awoke
famished, befuddled and alone.

By the side of the river we began to unwind
as we pulled at threads throughout the night
unraveling Revelations
and tearing down shibboleths
we ignited the silence with our backyard science
and explored the cosmos with beer in hand.

“Become who you are” he told me once,
“There are no guarantees.”

Every limb was a story or a shopping list
twisted missives composed in faded ink
we spent another day dissecting lyrics
reading signs buried between the lines
and rejoicing
in the simplest conversation.

Our shared delusions drove us to the edge
and our hidden truths reunited us again
down by the water’s end
unsteady, drunk with bubbling joy
“Mi casa es su casa” he said,
“Stay as long as you need”.