Poem-A-Day: Day 91

What To Do?

You’ll know what to do when you get there,
when you get there,
you’ll know.

Repeated over and over and over and over,
until it becomes my
best Pavlovian response to the same question
that gets asked most of me.
I spend plenty of wakeless nights
sleeping in the sense that I keep repeating
the act of not doing it over and over and over,
lying on my back,
as I stare blankly into the darkness
reflected on the blank white ceiling
mocking me with its lack of emotion.
If I could find release,
the question probably wouldn’t be repeated
over and over and over and over.
What do I do if I’m dreaming,
what if I never find sleep?

You’ll know what to do when you get there,
when you get there,
you’ll know.

Poem-A-Day: Day 11

Tattoos

Two bodies writhing
The scent of sweat and latex
Gracing artistry

Thieves’ Den

Transient bus stop
Housing countless vagabonds
Waiting for repose

Lonely Bulb

Hummus on my breath
A garlic bold reminder
Of my lonely state

Hai-Coup D’etat

The turn of a phrase
To well worded mastery
Of poetic form

Between Classes

The spectral voices
Echo through the deepest bones
Hungered harmony

Jesus Christ Stupid Star

Bearded misanthrope
The Student Center Jesus
Preaches to his crowd

Insomnia

Two shadowy orbs
Visual sunken treasures
Of the sleepless nights

Simplicity

Forging false resolve
In languid simplicity
Wanting nothing more