If I had failed to mention
You have my full attention
Or just a mere obsession
Which prompted a depression?
Such a stirring stillness
To master mind of illness
Without a madness looming
Would not be as consuming
Dissension of my being
As sanity is fleeing
If I had failed to mention
You have my full attention





I know madness and she knows me
Longtime friend of the family
We’ve kept wonderful company
Genetics scorned by destiny

In our world of make believe
My companion loves to grieve
And in our laughter she keeps the tune
Of one who knows another’s moon

In abundance and every need
She is my left my right my creed
And in our world only she’ll
Know what is and isn’t real

Thoughts On Winter…

The only thing that grows in the barren winter, is madness.

Winter asked me to sleep in her midst of exile ..she was not kind..watching me unwind. Winter asked me to burn every fire grey..and watch it blow away. She asked I lie alone.. so  I know that she is home. She said she stole the sun and the moon is on the run…..the skies are dark and low and  the clouds are crying snow….

How the mercury retreats!
Recoils and slumbers
Thin scarlet serpent
Rendered spineless
By  winter

I like drinking bloody Marys

I like drinking Bloody Marys for brunch on hung over Sundays. I like the way the big olives peer from the glass, bobbing eyeballs soaked in vodka, illustrating my future potential with unblinking stares. I like the way the tomato juice separates from the ice cubes, near the rim of the glass, standing apart to let  the vodka, the tabasco and crushed lime know we are working hard together for my inebriation. I like the sound of the ice cubes song, randomly bouncing off the glass, when reaching for my mouth : percussions!  I like the way it makes me breathe deeply after a mouthful of madness, spicy and cold in concert!  I like the film the tomato juice leaves behind in the skeleton of ice, one on top of the other Stacked with the emptiness of knowing a lover has gone, and will not return. The feeling strays for a brief waltz with memories, kind and unkind, long ago and at that moment, frozen in a drink.  I like drinking Bloody Marys, repeatedly, seeing the glass full once again, of possibilities and impossibilities, the lover returns to own my tongue, speaking for me, at times, words that should really be left just to endless mindful musings, but Bloody Marys speak when cultivated with frustrations turned to acrid tears and manifested fears. The ice beats out one more song, and then it’s gone. I like drinking Bloody Marys, and Bloody Marys like drinking me.