Kick me in the gut

Repeat until dead

The emptiness
the emptiness
of loud packed bars
leaves,
leaves
me thinking of
the emptiness...



Hamlet

I named my pitbull Hamlet
daring the world to kill me.
But he fears
shell fish on the beach.
My life is no longer in peril
so he’s a monument
to suicide
that will die of old age
in my backyard
when I’m older
with depressed kids of my own.


Feet

Thumping through the house
on flat feet
sounding like drum intros
to songs I will write
echoing in the quiet
mind you made for me.
I may sleep.


















Seaside

It was decided;
a westward crawl
(amidst alcohol withdrawl).
On the promenade,
(a history of comerce)
the clowns parade in a converted hearse
as we wander towards Sam’s
for dollar beers.
Ambition
and my reflection through cocaine covered mirrors
wanted me dead floating in the Delaware river,
where as
the Necanicum
makes me think of conception
with my wife.
Fluid flows down to the sea;
blood, piss, seamen and sweat
so the ocean never forgets,
but it forgives.
Though Seaside
is no thrill ride
I am proud to be here.