Job Openings: Notes from the Dead Letter Office

Sucking from this virus
The one that lives inside
Always and forever
The itchy little fingers
Scratching for their dinner
Bellies rendered fat and useless
So hallow sucking heads
Tongue searching for our meds
For better or worse
Tell me where it hurts

These raunchy little lies
So sewn up deep inside
Never really knowing
Which way we are going
Blind enough not to reason
With all theses ghosts that we believe in

A waking nightmare
Screaming inside my head
The need to let it out
Never making it to my lips
Draped across yellowing teeth
Bound by belief
Of things as they should be

Swing sets and toaster oven
Pastries made of giggles
Navigation past and present
A future never mapped
Ideals losing focus
Smoke and mirrors
Hocus pocus
This mess will get better
Once it is under shelter
Seeking harmony

Tomorrow’s problems solved today
Plan and execute
As simple as that
This is easy, but not as easy as giving up
Seem out of place every so often
Do what you would never do
It often works out better
When you do
I know it is a little scary
It wouldn’t be if it wasn’t
Stepping out of boundaries
Knowing our faults
And working to overcome them

Don’t be so greedy
This is not about you
That time is over
Adapting to the environment
Obtaining balance through any possible means to an end
An end that will be everything it can be
Everything we need
Salt of the earth

Light captured by gravity of the soul
Beyond windowless eyes
Beating hearts misshaped wreckage
Is all we have left to love with
I’d crush you with my hand
Or burden you with my thoughts
A heart attack revolution

Die’n to get out of this shell
Before I shuffle off to hell
Right where I fell
I belong
In a madhouse without gates
My ego I berate
Myself I shall hate
Worse than any of you could

From my perch,
hermit lantern shinning deep into
Sunday morning
Across these mountains
I’m thinking what I’m thinking
These pages filling up
Too soon to tell
If I give up
A map to dispel
The voices in my head
This bit that I have been biting
No longer serving purpose

A beginning spelled out
Projection, viewing
Expediter of energy
A direction seems right
Mother of invention
Turning to fruition
A final destination
Or part of my imagination
I don’t want to be wonderful
Attached to my flaws
Unique, prototype, Beta
Alphabet massacre
Chainsaw ballet

Then you notice days gone by
But in the wrong order
Yet, there is nothing good enough to remember
Thinking about incoming slumber
Too many hours filled with
Doing and wonder
Not doing anything about either
A stalemate with too many sides to count
Always ever after defeated
In the back of my mind
Barley noticeable
On the tip of my tongue

An apple in my eye
Wishing I could fly
But all there is
Is this
And with a bit of piss
And vinegar
Soon to be out of this mess
I have woke up in
Sometimes you feel like a prick
Cause everyone’s problems more important
Too gross to admit
That others matter more than I do

We can always get by on a little less
Fill it with something else
That something is hard and
Doesn’t really fit, but it makes
Us feel better
A canned response of
Why I get up everyday
Kidnapped, shipping and receiving, fuckup
Return to sender, victimless crimes of passion
Tomorrow I’m over the edge
Welcome to all the things
That need to get done
Still lost but not looking
To be found and saved
From the little fears eating
At the buffet of me
Now with more bacon
And dressing

(April 5, 2009)