I woke up in the back of a Taxi. The smell of cigarettes met my senses with a deafening roar; tickled my eyes open and sewed my nose closed. I coughed the dry air -- blinked the sunlight out. "What... where am I?" The car didn't slow; a voice in front of me spoke in a low staccato: "You're in a cab son, donchaknow?" Dug my elbow into the seat; lifting my body erect, I slowly let the color drain into my view. The Driver dug his smoke into the tray. I looked away out the window: "Wh- where are we..." A gruff laugh from the miser. "Oh we're going my friend. And that's just the thing" No locks on the doors... "Don't try anything -- funny. I'm not much for jokes" He was wearing a wreath built of cigarette tokes; I couldn't see his face. Sat up to the glass. Both my legs were asleep. "How long have I been..." Nausea met me. I reeled back in defeat. "You're awake and that's what matters" the Driver retorted. "I'm not sure what you've been doing besides sleeping and snorting; but at least you're awake after all" My fingers crawled down the window -- trapped like a leper. Quarantined in a box with Death as my driver. He coughed: "You can't get what you want. Not at this point my friend. You've been chasing your tail like a puppy and now... you've caught it" I balled a fist and slammed it into the divider; I heard something rattle -- the cab took a corner. "I wouldn't try to fight if I were you son" the Driver waved off the last lingering wisps. "Fighting is for animals or if no other solution exists. How 'bout you accept where you are and not think with your fists?" I scoffed: "What do you know? You fucking--" A jolt. "Hold your tongue son. No need to be brash." I choked. No words came to mind, as if my brain'd been erased. "Don't you understand son? You're not going away. You're just going and going; this is your second wind. Soon you'll be back, to dreaming; back with your friends. Back to your girl; laughing alone in the dark." I stared, speechless ahead. "You don't know who I am -- and you know maybe I'm not. But at least I'm still driving and haven't yet stopped." I shook my head 'no': "But when will we stop?" A chuckle; a chortle: "You'll find out soon enough."

I woke up in my bed. What a dream I just had.

hurricanes get nice, unassuming names too

Silhouette

If I told you what slices back and forth through my brain,
you probably wouldn't change a thing.
You'd smile and feign at the thought that I think
and thought of us building that bond.
I couldn't care less about the way you are dressed;
the rays of light lick past your eyes.
A sweet smile spreads 'cross my mask. I am not vexed;
just taking a break from the test.
A photo of heaven, held by my fingers,
gives me window into what could have been.
There's a thing about wishing: it kind of spoils living.
Bliss is best when its ignorance-based.
Take heed my young sailor. Your plight isn't failure.
We all live on into the great unknown...

Smile wide, my friend, smile wide

When I feel powerful I do what anyone else does: ruin it. But isn't that the beauty of it? If perfection was rampant then nothing would be random -- can you find the purpose in what we see as accident? We trip, grasp hold, lose it all, gain the world; and maybe this list isn't complete. If you dwell on the past, keep up the grudge, you won't be the one that makes it past the last step. Everyone is judged -- just not in the end. Before death we are evaluated by family and friends, society and pre-made plans; judgment is doled and the Judge hangs his hat. Regardless of this, please be who you are. If you're as crazy as me wear it proud/cross your heart: a patch or a button won't do. If you are like who I know then I know who you are. Like perfection, although false, people strive to be...us. Realize this, and you'll see; that media's a mirror -- and beauty is cheap. Put prices on facial structure, body weight; believe: people are people and they all believe in greed. And belief is as dangerous as a blind grenade toss. Throwing cause to the wind begs for fresh graveyard plots. And isn't that an image of how many survive: monochrome methodologies built and buried in effigy. Will you remember me when I'm gone? Can you make a mark on the world if it truly doesn't care? No one listens, so why bristle at thoughts of failure? I'm not saying we're all equal -- that we're lost -- too far gone...

No we're not. And I love you and hope you'll do well. For yourself and whoever gravitates to your life. In and out I will go 'til I feel I can rest. I'm tired but tweaked out -- freaked out by science. No. Violence won't harm me, just the fact that you smile and dismiss me as just someone you'd rather forget, in favor of favoring someone else; yet, I can't be jealous so I'll just never forget. Turn you to song; assimilate your mood. Your face and demeanor speaks volumes. It's true. You're a novel you won't write nor let me read right. Will you call me tonight? Text me tomorrow? Follow my life or refuse to allow my name to cross your mind...? Meh, I wouldn't follow me either, I've drawn my own lines. I agree we're all human and I know we all die. I know that you'd love me if we gave it a try. So smile, my friend, smile wide.

Last Night (Was Nuts)

My mind says,
"No. Don't turn down that road."
"Don't flirt with disaster"
"Take the money and run!!"

But my head has separate intentions.

...
I think that I picked up a hitchhiker.
My memory is hazy in the morning.
But I can see his face - blurried and frosted.
It was cold, but I didn't notice.
I think I took him past Main.
But I didn't have a car when I woke up again.
Nor did I feel trust or peace refrain
within the four white walls that house
my sanity.
He knocked it out of me.
Pipe probably. Swung laterally through the dark.
It had to be small. Light but lethal hard.
I felt the warmth, and yeah I noticed:
when picture bled to smear.
In the end its desperate separation that helped us meet...
I was delighted you were there.
...

In the end I think we all meet, although we haven't yet.
We know everyone and no one all the same.
How can I hope to pierce your skull and peer at what's in your brain?
It's gray all the same. I know that much.
So maybe we can meet again - some other time
with different circumstances.
Maybe that would play out different.
But that's just maybe.
And I have a headache.

Do/Did You Think?

I am free-form, without wings or paddles please push my raft into cold current, white waters. We all breathe from the same source, waste words on sand, grains number our plans. You've been in the air straight levitating state, affairs of Earth-walkers ember your flame. It's not too late, breaking stride, dig a ditch, fill the void, make amends, rebuilt frame, circle slowly, nest again.

Psalms of the Begotten V

We speak in words unmarred by verbs, syntax, voice, pronoun, or phrase.
Otherwise silent, I'll beam you my subtext, nestled between our brainwaves.

It takes time to make time just as it takes words to make rhymes.