“It’s Kind Of Like Drowning, Only To Know You Will Be Resuscitated” 

Do you remember the first time we saw each other outside of work? 

I brought you to the everlasting DIY venue, The Flux Capacitor.

You wore a green belly shirt and black puffy oversized parka.

I was so scared to touch your hand but I wanted make sure you were safe next to the pit. 

I failed. 

The tide pushed the bodies and you were slammed into the wall. 

I felt so bad.

But you took it like a champ.

That’s the first time I knew I loved you, yet was still scared to touch your hand.

This was the purest form of how we were or knew each other. 

Now we hate each other.

Well, I assume you hate me.

It’s hard to find hate in my memories. 

Yet I try to wash your name out of my mouth.

I will probably be losing moments of my life very soon. 

Like trying to write on a blackboard with a pen. 

Soon I will find myself doing push-ups as I think about this moment. 

Where have we come.

I am still a creator.

I am still to overcome a task of the relentless daytime tv of prison. 

And I will.

And I don’t care where you wind up, as long as you are happy and the kids are safe. 

I will keep this with me as something to pass the time and smile.

And cry.

If only words were made of clay, I would smash the mold and reform where we have come.

Mabye they’ll have clay in jail. 

-Joshua Tool 06/16/17

It Was All A Dream [Your Subconscious Is An Unsung Hero]

A wrenching squeal from the rusted clock’s cogs that turn in my stomach woke me from a dream I had about nothing

I say nothing because it is the only way for me to enunciate everything that it was

From the moment my eyes began to fight their sleepy maker to the breath clutching gasps of realizing it was all a dream

You wore sequin skin, scaled and reflective of the moon that splashed through the glass ceiling of the elegant ballroom that we had found ourselves in. I mean REALLY found ourselves

Before we had made the motion to dance, I washed your legs in whiskey and suckled at the tips of your record players needle

As we had both waited with bated breath we commenced our waltz to songs from the future

Foreplay WAS the sex here, for the river of rhythm took us downstream to a place you can only imagine yourself in a dream. To a place that sex in trumped by the touch of trumpets, love triangles and tambourines

We had been on this rocky river at a previous time, I knew it from before, yet this time it’s currents seem to be currently curving into the casualty called chaos

Circling and spinning like a toilet bowl flushing into the septic tank of sanity and sense

The whirlpool pulled us into a black hole of violent cycles

This dance is also known as thought

I was already thinking of you, even though you hadn’t even stopped dancing through the water

“My love”, you screamed over the crashing waves

“Take my children to find god and I shall meet you when your clock finds
that he has already flushed”

And then black silence

I woke in a dream on a beach

My face buried in your wet hair like seaweed

You were humming a high pitched hymn under your breath as you stoked the fire made from driftwood and stroked my back in the sand

“Had we lost him?” I murmured staring out into a brand new completely unseen world

“No” you replied contently

“We are him”

“We are home now lover…we are home”

And my eyes sprang open like a bird in a coo-coo clock as I woke into reality

I rolled over and felt your hair in my face

You shifted your weight into me and pulled my arm over you as the sun rolled into the blinds

You asked me what I was thinking

“We are home now lover”

“We are home”