Sometimes it is easier to see clearly into the liar than into the man who tells the truth. Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.

-Albert Camus, The Fall




aren’t you

riddled don’t you

think it worth the view, too-

yield this life to

rhapsody wielded in

stead fast truths in stead


fear you’re headed nowhere fast, and she’s headed in the opposite direction and even faster, that you insist on calling her a bitch, despite her making it painfully clear to you how painfully triggering the term even in jest is to her of all the more painful portions of her history and that despite her best effort to ignore it makes her remember negatively so where empathy fails  maybe self interest will prevail. resolve your self to look out for your self and find another word or at least have the foresight to leave her alone


see gold hills, you say

we’re an unlikely team

but with your talent

my serendipitous foresight

we’ll know when to put on

our spectacular spectacles





the worst lie ever

i told, was sold


a week ago

weak,  i  know




and man that railroad walk

how could you not miss that

piggy back helping me over the fence

watching me point out the dead snake

humoring my suggesting otherwise

and i remember now

how i thought back then

that i’d never laughed so hard

and that i hadn’t been that happy in a while



pretty impressive for you

and your fuck you, won’t you



pretty pretty impressive

and your petty,  albeit pretty



a pretty pity

all our archaic pretending



just think-

one can turn around one day

and with the aid of one hand

one can count aloud

those few who knew ;

and who knew one knew

all along.


lest i forget
in this fortune five hundred mess
where i came from

that reindeer game
my words were Coolio and nucleotide
and you said that reason alone
was reason enough
to love me


eyes were filming

the far down fading

past the road

fast passed the  bode

past paths

the both had once

both starred in


hate to

pretend again

or anymore

that i adore

this sound

so the scape goat tan

is my hasty hand’s

 response right back

to reason




like the eighty bazillion passing lights in this closet

you zipped right past the dash board

past the ceiling stealing crash bored

past the flashing misery mile high line







it was not you

it is me

the plan was

not past thirty

and it cannot be



note the date the first of the second

note the number atomic three

note the decision to go on without that

and quell the feeling fleeting

of an impending feeding frenzy

of inconvenienced audiences

reminiscing half-heart at Lee

over memories of his hard work

at  the sadist Factory

over his impressive production of pleasant trees

at the pleasant tree  mill

thinking all and only about themselves