One More Time: Notes from the Dead Letter Office

I’m just about on that edge.
please push me.
let me drop…

People talking just to waste air and ideas.
No one gaining anything from all the noise.

Yack Yack Yack.
Buzzword bullshit
I want my time back.
I’m going to hold my breath.
quickly turning red
my brain is choaking sweetness
its starting to feel all warm and fuzzy
cottoncandy blanched and rotting
I think my mom is putting the dog down.

and I need to hear a soothing voice.
somewhere out there.
a missed connection.
third and market
cell phone charger
beatnick black guy hat
need to pay his bills
dred lock phone number
subtereinian computer store
crippled escalator with polio braces
i need a map
to blank media nap
and check out obsured by things and bad lighting
be still and they won’t notice
I feel trapped on an island
passing messages to the outside world
you know that H word
seeding music
plants perfection
insideout growth like nightmare socks
the beanstock castle mage of glass and anger
god sits in this space
on a phone
with a PR agent
“murry” god exclaims, “they are fucking it all up in my name.
What can you do about this?”
I wake up.

More dreams
my teeth are black in the dream.
I scrub, scrape the teeth are getting smaller
the rot is never gone.
i rip at the gums
the death will not come out
like stains on my sheets
i am crying
i am frustrated
a million things
and i cannot focus on one
i need an echo
i need some light
i need a hammer
maybe just some nails?

(Monday, August 07, 2006)