Evesdropping

Hawk G-d
The experiments went well
I mean, were painful
Despise the facts
3 days walk
Cancer
One on my best
Itching mile

Talking Off the Ledge

I lied when I said I could do this forever
I lied and I cheated
Cheated myself of an out
And lied because I knew we'd never leave

In a broken down chess tablature maneuver
I hover upon the clever lever
Choosing to be repeated
Rather than becoming firm and stout
Myself
A cuff apart from sleeve
In the tunnel of seed we are all hungry naked

Misery plays lights on my face
I wanted to ask those who knew me
Was I ever happy
Or are there just pictures of me smiling

Such a knife twist thrust suck pinch
The basest of cases I trace
Back to when I was a boy and had no one
Myself; a flea, badgery, almost dainty
Even when I was dreaded, nappy, sappy
Did I harvest anything I could begin piling
For my beloved, who only prays this fever dissapates

It's the forced architecture
The face first forced work work force
The dirty everyday bombs
It's stifling, and worse yet, I quit smoking

Any conjecture regarding this lecture
Should be filed under: Divorce
Not a course of action I am willing to protect or texture
I am not a man of psalms
I am a man of joking, odd, hurtful poking
It's the shanking and sodomy that keeps me out of jail
Otherwise, a fine place to raise thoughts
Little figety baby ideas suckling on scruffy cheeks
Weakly teething with hair for gums and steak for brains

Prose for John Camacho

I had to leave; mostly to get away. The people broke me. Broken, my friends laid mourn cloths. Once cloaked, I needed escape. The exit strategy simple: get away. The method, all I knew: highway intercourse. I braved some parties. I challenged some long-time diversions. I finished an album. I left. All that said (spoken, written), I was destined to be alone. At some point. Tragically, unabashedly, alone. New pitfalls, lucky breaks, distant attempts at communication; there were laws that didn't apply, tools I had never applied, jobs; applied. After all that, I found the highway again. It took me close to the edge of what I once knew, but, upon returning, after a long expanse of no return, I was viewed as a ghost. Treated to frills set aside for visitors, vacationers; I was alone. Not rejected and not trusted; somewhere there were hugs and embraces, distanced. I did return once in full. As full as I could be. Accomplished and hollow. I don't think things were ever the same. But, I remember who you speak of; and it brings me back: a movie theater where a band played where the screen once flickered with images of Hollywood. I had seen my first R-rated movie there. Without adult supervision. Later, down the road, I tried to manage a small tour for these gents. It partially worked. Was generally well received. I guess I could see some genius in the family blood. They were always extremely engaging; everyone drawn; in. And still, I'm left jealous and scraped. Raw, burned, rashed. What happens when you stay? If you've never left? What happens is all I can say. All the great sparks, the intrigue, the phenomenal bath you have all created. The broth of rich and tender. The soup of smart and knowing. I tasted it. And, I wanted to say, "and I spit it out." But, I didn't. I drank it down, savored it, cherished it. Here I am, but vapors, telling you how I lived. How tragically tempered. And, that I want to join your sacred circle as I am. Spiritless, transfixed, invisible.