valley of the numb



Chill pinpricks pierce skin where drops drip,
Pitter-patter patterns upon palm scatter-plot static wrought
On my psyche… night too stagnant to clock crisp
Meant to jumpstart; start-pistol-whipped, racing thoughts since

Some point switched to seeking strolling meditation—
Somehow stuck, can’t help but distractedly walk brisk—
More like shamble quick—breath too inhibited for relief,
Streetlights too tight for my elusive tastes on dark drifts

Who do I kid? This land’s too familiar for escape
No dark alleys to take, nothing refreshing to sate,
What distance does one drive to end up scraping with strage?
A dingy dive? A quiet lake? Abadonded estate?

One-hundered percent desert and thirty percent metropolis
Swathes of industrial, residential, and lots of dust;
There’s gotta be a place to feel alive outside a mosh pit
Our biggest threats are bike theft, heat stroke, and dumbshit drivers

Guess I’ll find a midnight machaca burrito,
And hope this time it gets me steps closer to snuffing ego,
And hope when I’m back home I remember not to spark up tonight
And finally clean up my room and rearrange my life;
Update my budget, workout again, clip the cat’s nails,
Study, write, prepare to claw my path from this nine-to-five jail,
Skip the online temporal-emotional black holes,
Cut clutter and noise from my world, re-orient towards my goals, and

fuck it, i’m tired,
hope’s exhausting
i’d rather be wired,
hung w/mary, jack, and Her
and have handerson train the squire

binge upon a feast of the throes echo’ing my dreads and dreams and
reify that soothesaid mantra: “potential” means “not defeated”

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