i am not speaking to ghosts.
the internet is full of them -

i am speaking to everything:
you and me, strangers whom i miss very much.

the zagging heights loomed while falling back.
headwear is illegal where you're at:
at insertion by helicopter drop.
to die would be an awfully big adventure.

spotted a billabong in town!
situation: excellent. i attack.

...there must be something i missed.
right away, i had a different problem-
my right is a blemish on a stainless slate
this is the earliest i've ever been late.

boom!

numinous velociraptors spring from
infinities in mosaic
time, the repeating lattice
follows capillary action
a half-forgotten middle name
lynx
motion graphics
thank you what in us rackets glad what gladrackets us
iridescent madness
...playing poker with tarot cards.
i got a full house and at least four people died.

what is your dog's promise everlasting?

hope had other plans.
boring into the depths of a shattered mind,
carcass caress descending into that place
now porous between gray matter and skull
and with joyous trembling i become more powerful.
i'm calling it a coming of age.
heat from fire, fire from heat.
we smile, we don't bluff.

Pickle, the toad, cometh,
eating a bite from a slice of watermelon.
the raven is its friend.
rustling rascal perambulated, and i like that.

it was once a tadpole prior to the pot of soup.
to the cheese grater.

unfortunately, the bucket is aching
as if hungering for a few possible selections to subsume.
What temerity!
a gorilla potion noshing on the old man.
rinse with product like a pustule.

my beautiful son, Chainmail the Clown has passed away this morning.
subscription cancellation.
a discombobulated gongoozler,
a doodlesack in black, dancing freely.
our wild boy receding into the roses.
i have brought the young king to his kingdom
and his home.
to eternity.

we're all just rats.
counting grubs in hell.

...but only apart could the twain be whole.

i left all of my detritus,
and the dragon took the sweet spices of life and love,
lavender, sassafras
the deafening sound of freshly cut grass
blue bird falls by cold winter moon
wizard over an empty tomb
nevermore the magnolia tree
inconsequentially, it ceased to be

last night, i stayed up late
sinking slightly into the grass
hidden in the mist
consistently inconsistent
swirling amidst the things i dismissed.
it rained earlier in the morning and i'm not sure what this is
weary willow wisps weep wistfully; the wills will will the whiles of the wise old willow
with worried wisteria when again winter warms into spring.
Have mercy!

you can call me a quitter. but if you are, GO.
this is my submission.
i'm not faltering.

before i go - did you know that i'm made of
each work of art i treasure under the graveyard?
you have a problem: my center is the same person that i am in video games.
FORM FOLLOWS FUNCTION in real life, but...
i never cared much about that anyway.
if to create is to play the role of the gods,
it's a good thing we're all made of stardust, then.
don't be afraid of being lost in all reality.
despite everything,
everything that has ever happened to them,
it's still you.