As my heart shrinks

so does my tolerance for charades.

I want only the truth

even if the truth disappoints me.

Everyone has a spark,

a moment when ignition

transports their seldom-sought

muse into another plain

of seldom-sought, heroically-induced

bliss but most of the time

we chase and inflate our egos

looking for a way to apply

our genitals while maintaining

every conceivable form of anonymous.

My horns drip with the blood

of my adversaries, scores

of green-tongued deviants

scorching their way through

my disheveled veins.

Medication doesn’t slow time.

I sit watching the trains

charge blindly into a hemorrhagic skyline

my thoughts twitching down to powder.

I’ve lost interest in everyday happenings

and all that being human pertains to.

This weekend I am painting my living room so I might be unavailable and unable to post.