Spot the Lie

Today was
top to bottom
the worst day
of my life!

Too bad I'm
so inclined to
tuning out static,
I forget to turn
the radio back
one or two clicks.

I'm in my burning
car still turning
the station back and
forth, back and forth,
back and voices
telling me in broken
frequencies -
GET OUT OF THE CAR!

Talk radio,
so tedious these days...

May you find peace with every demon living in the cellar 
of your dream house. You should have killed me when you
had the chance. You know when I come back it won't be
for you. I would tell you that I hate you but the last thing
I want to do is give you any sense of satisfaction. After all,
you're a con-artist; I'm a liar. It became too real for you
when you started believing your own story. Though I'm not
sure where the facade began and you ended. All I know is
we ended and you're probably dead somewhere warm, 
or so you hope. I hope for a lot of things. I'm ever the idealist.

• I hope you forget where I do my work
• I hope my poems are lost on you
• I hope you never read a line of poetry again 
• I hope you find peace across the sea

I say I may be back.
You know what lies are for.

A trash bin that reads THANK YOU
stands more dignified than I.
Dutiful, proud, polite...
A belch erupts from my jutted
hairy jaw. My mouth opens
collecting dust, flies, and
coins from generous -- if not brave --
Samaritans. I pause to sniff my armpits.

My eyes are like dumbbells
weighing down my dumb head

Brain sloshing about like ice
in an empty cup of cola

Thoughts of naked ladies and smelling salts
rattle in my noggin like a lump of an infant

banging it's rattle on a white hi-chair tray
I write these similes while drooling on myself

My libido rages like Lucifer's unholy war,
and I will inevitably fall from grace.

Like Milton I shall blithely declare:
It's better to reign in hell than serve in heaven 

Like hell, this waking life
Like dreams, I keep my visions to myself.

Like a star everyone will see my dying light,
gazing at profound beauty until I will

inevitably burn out and come crashing
down in dust at their feet. Little star gazers.