Fatigue

Flippant, you flippin' 

wave things off.  

[And what ticks me off...

... is this happens oft.]

My voice box doesn't seem to function. 

I turn the key,

and suddenly, I'm filling my gas tank

up to E.

PLEASE, Tell me...

Honestly,

What's the use, in feeling emp-ty?

It's like cleaning a grime-stained, 

habit-ingrained 

bathtub

to be defeated.

Beat down

by the dense fist of the muck.

I've tried to use some elbow grease.

But Alas, I'm running low, it seems.

Straining,

strength waning, 

and the filthy waters, draining... 

they're

gurgling, gurgling... straining.

"Je suis fatigue de ceci..."

Oh! Sorry...

Please excuse my French.

Subliminal

"Subliminal" -mixed media

Street Corner Symphony

"Street Corner Symphony" - gesso/charcoal/acrylic

things.

You feel the presence

of things weighing down.

things that constrict

like a py-thon

things that sits 

on your shoulders

and squeezes your neck and you feel 

the warmth of its embrace.

things clings to you

like a grabbing child, reaching, clawing

it sings to you

a somber dirge

nestled in your ear canal.

you never forget it's cadence!

how would you?

how could you?

things.

and all the while you desire

to fling things from you. 

yet things clings

like the too-loud noise 

and shell-shocked,

you fall 

from the too-loud noise 

and shell-shocked,

you fall.

de ja vu it seems... 

yes, we've been here before.

we've seen these things.

things.

...the apotheosis of crimes?:

then why does it linger 

infinity times?

... [pause] ...

things.

Thinking, Man.

  "Thinking, Man."  -acrylic/charcoal