ALWAYS RIGHT

We are the flowers
of carnality
raised on Wonder Bread
and after thought.

We exist
only because
we’re forced to–
because dying
seems too messy.

We spray paint
prayers to God
on our walls of insanity
then drive back
to the lap of luxury.

We join rallies and unions
but won’t commit
with both feet inside the door.

We smell like perfume
and purchase Prada
and Porches in mass.

We work this
like it will all be gone tomorrow.

Breathing is optional.

FALSE PANIC (SEVEN IS LUCKY)

I.
We can’t eat this,
but it’s able
to grapple with our thoughts
and ultimately change our minds.

II.
He comes to her defense
because he doesn’t
want what is wrong
to be right.
Return to all words internal.

III.
We race,
but the finish line
is ambivalent.
The tape always
a finger-tip out of reach.

IV.
I used to smoke
clove cigarettes.
We had to drive
to Wyoming to buy them.
The car ride to Evanston
was more quiet than this
mess in my head.
My parents prayed
for my eternal salvation
and return from damnation.

V.
When you big city
hustle and bustle,
I’ll be living in the suburbs.
Don’t worry about me.
I’m used to self-absorbent,
self-deprecation.
Masochism all my own.

VI.
We derailed this train
and your stop was two ages ago.
You always expect a free ride.

VII.
Things aren’t how they use to be.
I put a dollar in the change machine
and only get back two quarters.