Ireland is Dead

Pretenses and vagrants
I see the symbols run
I hold authenticity in my hand
Cracked stone and raging fire
I lay upon it waiting
Wounded ears
Conformed mutilation
There’s nothing here
Invaded by stereo
Micheal Collins would be suicidal
They tell me its okay
Worldly nothings
I leave different
I can’t come back
Ireland is dead to me
New to everyone else

The Fearless Moment

The thoughts rushed through like cattle on the subway
Pick pick pick at me
They crack me open and spill the candy
Wasted time and wasted thoughts all a mess
I wash it down with brown bliss
I wash it down but it doesn’t work
Self-awareness is a bitch
I get up and walk into the light
Warm and cold and looking away
I watch the tic toc of the words
Despite myself I accomplish
Despite myself I step aside
Despite myself I am victorious

The Prophet of Dee’s

A long walk ahead
Legs pumping
Brain thinking
Hungry for real food
Hungry for quiet
Hungry for a change
No ideas
No worries
No cares
Step into the diner
Dee’s
Local and good
One, please
Little old lady
Dyed hair
Fragile hands
Yes, coffee, please
The prophet comes over
She asks my beverage
She doesn’t like my answer
She’ll come back later
Her tone is her sermon
It says you don’t matter
It says I can ignore you
It says I’m the queen
Pack and shades on the seat
Drinking the old lady’s offer
Silent in my thoughts
She takes a while to return
I order, she obeys
I work on pictures
I watch her talk
I listen to her mouth
She talks, I eat
Complaints
Speculation
Gossip gossip gossip
She forgets an order
“I feel out of sorts”
Bullshit
Rationalize, hamster, rationalize
I finish
I wait
I wait
I wait
She takes the plate
I wait
I wait
I wait
I get up
No check
Best guessed total in my hand
No tip
I hope the totals bigger
I hope she loses money
Old lady sees me
She smiles
She asks for the check
“She didn’t give me one”
Asks for my order
Gives me the total
I hand her the money
I get change, I keep it
Old lady saved me from leaving a tip
I smile at her, saying thanks
I walk out, light up
I walk back home
The long walk
Thinking of what to write