happy fools,

spinning in circles

inside my drink.

tornadoes of all my little smiles.

hurricanes of all my little devils.

hollow points inside the ice cubes

that adorn my cup.

i tip and spill.

for my fallen homies, right?

kissing the pavement

i crack my feet upon.

kissing sand and dirt

after i kissed god's lips.

make me feel human again.

make me feel real.

spit in rhythms

and speak in rem cycles.

hatred for universals,

but love for your criticisms.

so i do my best to kill my little darlings,

quietly,

but without mercy.

spinning circles,

these happy fools inside my drink,

tell me tales

of landmines and love notes,

of mirrored halls and minor hells.

no sins or virtues.

no times for curfews.

just love spilling over my eyelids

like happy fools

in my naked dreams.

The Conventions of Being a Horrible Human Being

most of the things i've said

have been buried beneath slate and sand

carved out with claw hammers and bare hands

i've learned through the most roundabout ways

what it means to be a man

and all these things i've said

are buried beneath mortar and land

all the things i lost in the tide

haunt all the things i never hide

and all the things i learned to love

left notes and apologies on my bedside

next to all the things i once was

bleeding onto the carpeted floor

running down words i let slip

hunting them like lions

upon the faces of fear

sweet and shifting syllables

that rocket inside my ears and inside my skull

remind me of something and another

the war horns and the horse hooves

the hellhounds and the angels

that run beside me in battle

that run beside me in sleep

that run beside me in death

set me free

i've gotten good at dropping bombs,

like spent bullets from rifles,

hard upon the face of the concrete.

i've learned to love the pock marks,

the cracks we avoid to save our mothers,

and the little wisps of hair and soot

that run between the steps i take.

i've gotten good at loving.

i've gotten good at looking.

i've gotten good at living.

but i've yet to figure,

with all my might and measure,

what good is good

when i can't tell what's coming next.