The Mad Creator

The Mad Creator Mixing poetry and madness In petri dishes made of cardboard Searching for the perfect drink: Make him drunk, But not so he cannot write; Make him numb, But not so he cannot remember his dealings. Make him learn to fly, So he can learn to live like angels To play God on…

A muse in a bottle

I keep my muse in a bottle. I shake it every once in a while- Or tap it like a kid at a fish bowl- It doesn’t move, stir or come back to life; It just idly floats through its own filth. I sigh. Typical, I mutter as I flush in down the toilet And…

We’re picking stitches out of the floor

We’re picking stitches out of the floor… Are normal people ever this bored? To the point of self-destruction In order to feel some direction? News flash: We’re catching comas to Feel alive; Taking pills when we’re Already addicted. Of course we feel the sting of promises Beneath our skin, We’re suns just waiting to happen;…

Moonlight and Despair

I’m brooding over a mug Of black coffee at 4am, Trying to warm my cold bones And broken heart… Oh please, I drink green tea After my morning yoga; I’m about as happy as it gets. Unfortunately mountains poses And sunrise Don’t sell quite as well As moonlight and despair.

She’s Cursed Me

She’s cursed me, This mind of mine, And now we’re creeping through nightmares Once again. I used to dream of gold in my bed at night, But now I just follow her down.