running on empty
i started a vision board
for my life, it’s still empty
a lonely saxophone wails
in the back of my mind
yet another empty for the floor
the latest year of death
comes to an end
how many times does this soul
get to escape what it deserves
i had an old lover tell me she
hopes i die alone one day
i told her she should have stayed
longer if she wanted me to feel
misery
penniless
the imagination running on empty
i live in a town near a highway
with plenty of banks
you do the math
i’ve been running from something
for most of my life
i remember first trying to kill myself
at eight years old
the day jesus stopped loving me
also, the day i learned how to smoke
burning through the horizon
another rainy night
drinking away the
pain
yet another broken
soul set into the
hindsight on a
howling wind
any chance for a sandy
beach or one of those
sunsets you brag to
your grandchildren
about faded away with
the first drop of blood
scars add character
they don’t add a
personality or the
ability to be filthy
rich
and sadly, money seems
to be more important than
everything in this world
hell, even the sidelines
aren’t cheap any longer
ashes to ashes
there is already
plenty of dust
a fire burning through
the horizon
my grandmother always
told me hell was somewhere
west of the big river
hopefully, i’ll end up
there one day
without missing a beat
a buddy asked me
the other day if my
father was still alive
what would i ask him
without missing a beat
i said how incompetent
do you have to be to go
to war wanting to die
and not be able to do
so
my buddy choked on
his drink and said really
yeah, stupid fuck went
to vietnam to die and
instead came back home
and gave me all his
fucking problems
he took another drink
and asked what would
you ask your mother
i said she’s still alive
she knows all my opinions
on life-changing situations
at the age of seventeen
he chuckled and said no
wonder you’re a poet
i laughed
yeah, i never had the
patience to be a serial
killer like i always
wanted to be
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