Coal Train Charles

Drifter.

kill the television

days off
are the days I work the hardest
because its not the American dream i’m living
its my fucking dream
and I actually look forward to waking up
to live thes day dreams

There is this big big house

and its under water

it is perfectly in tact

and it is where you live

you skip from room to room

happily submerged

in blissful indlugance

but occasionally

you stop

and glance

at the south wall

of the living room

where there is a big double door

that has never been opened

and you still don’t have any idea

what resides

in your own home

There is still so many people

I have never been

and yet

this place is relevant to me now

though i’m not allowed to know why

I am who I am

kiss my aching anatomy

and remind me

that there Is more to life

than getting old

feeling slightly off the track

in touch with the sunset

sometimes I forget

what it was I’ve ever wanted

and i’m left

standing

 completely brand new

a new born question mark

in a galaxy of fireflies

blinking at traffin lights

that have not yet changed

yet

they stare back at me

and say

nice to meet you

and quickly fill me in on all the rules

as if

I’ve seen this dream before.

I rub my face and look at my hands

to check and see that i’m still here

yes, this seems pretty permanent

for now

distant moon

Summer sweet, wet with satisfaction

dripping from the lips

of  a siren in the night

so simple her song

so subtle

lonely

be the notes

like ships lost at sea

secrets unleashed

into the air

somewhere between the moon and I

cry like the first touch of love

had dried up and left you

shaking with tremors

from deep within your epicenter

hold me in your arms

while my skin crawls

be my broken home

while my memory paints walls

smiling in the dark

out of breath

hold me close

that’s all

Love nothing

I remember getting out of bed today

the fact I have a bed to begin with

this is all still strange to me

I laid there

relieved of purpose

denying existence

pondering the last dream that passed me buy

why I remember holding

a beautiful woman’s breasts

grasped so firmly in my hands

her eyes hold me sweetly

but i remain unable to retain

a name to match the milky

lackadaisical  memory

I was half way home

and now, here I am

laying comfortably in this

make shift bed

I thought about it for a moment longer

when I remembered who it was

I  laughed

I can always count on her

to stumble in every now and again

a delight for the night

but she never stays for tea

its fine

because she doesn’t mind

that by the next night

i’ll have forgotten the entire thing

cages

scarred scavenger

hunting like a mavoric

for something other than slow death carcinogens

In a ring

of roller derby do rights

caged mocking birds

making window conversation

grey hounds pass us by

like 1,000 unseen sunrises

sing till your lungs

are too numb to breathe

these cages hold nothing for me

nothing is all need

Raibow Relief

I paint my emotions into the moment

not for me to look at

but because the feelings need to be released

the colors may run together

to become mud or a masterpiece.

it may be a mess

but if I didn’t let it bleed

then so would I

nothing is mine
and I am fine with this