By the Numbers

Flirting with idea of it.

Conversation to consider it.

Sketching out the aftermath,

making judgement calls with long-term division.

Adding the right components to comprehend the feeling,

playing chicken with an urge that has its gaping maw open,

whispering sweet promises with its rotting teeth.

The mailbox is hosting dust in a forgotten corner.

No one purchases tickets to a sinking ship.

Wanting to love a soul daring to approach,

but the sea floor has been cleared for the collapsing.

Approving the ending.

Accepting the isolation.

Memorizing the phrases

to line up the expected paper trail.

It will be a logical loss for me to bear,

but I swear I’ve done the numbers and there’s no need to care.

There’s only one man that needs to step over the edge,

and down with him goes the baggage you’ve all tried to carry.

At the bottom of every rift the memories will sag under the plates of being,

as the fabric of every life transforms,

ending up in a place they weren’t at before.

I was the flaw in nature’s plan,

sticking my wrist into the wheel to grind future to a halt.

I’ve gotten tangled up and used the pain as a crutch to justify my self-abuse.

If the edge is near and the mast is dipping below the surface,

it’s the only answer that makes a shred of sense:

Subtract that which holds you back and become greater than you were before.

Trust in the soundless slip to silence.

Eyes are never upon me.

Keep their stare on a future.

Trust in the soundless slip to silence.

Eyes are darting away.

Avoid the perpetual drama.

Trust in my soundless slip to silence.

Eyes are



as it slips

to silence.

( ❤ Mitch)

As Justified by Fallacy

Spare a moment.

Stay sleepless this eve for one time.

I’ve exhausted all recommended remedies

and any cent that could be dropped for a call.

Have a second aside.

If for a passing space in the progression of our trajectories we may cross,

I’ll complete any labor to secure your forgiveness.

Made driven by a lingering madness,

the innocence that buoyed my ankle to Earth was severed,

and the simple truth of another’s gravity was pulled away:

a tug at the cloth that kept me composed,

now spilling over the fabric as shards and fluid illuminate the split-brain life,

never properly in sync without a sun to dance for.

Spare a moment.

Hang on the wires for the siren scream.

I faced the prospect of emptiness and not a laugh emerged from the tapestry of lights.

No consent or contest was challenged as an undeniable absolute dared to be questioned.

Shivering in this cold leaves me begging for smiles that aren’t there.

Faces that swim in and out on a whim,

never present in a room present with me,

lacking form and emotion to provide any sort of knot to ground me.

Spare a moment.

This is when I need the you of the now,

not the you that’s already past when you come around for me.

Pry me off of the sidewalk.

I’m just dreaming again.

Body is resting on industrial soil.

Brain is stuck climbing several feet higher.

Peel me off the walls,

I’m just wishing again.

I flick drama at a canvas and damn it to silence,

kindling a hope that you’ll peek.

But you’re concentrating on blinking.

Each eye and ear are shut.

I’ve lost the signal from my interstellar radio

as I’m drifting off to a supernova star.

Is it purely mathematical to depart from a ship that sinks on any blueprint,

or did you spare a moment and simply find me lacking?

( ❤ Mitch)

Infinite Happy Endings

Back in the far reaches pretended to be extinguished,

there’s an itch notched in the back of the cranium.

Shake at the thought when the pinch is close,

bouncing to and fro between closed eardrums.

Isolate the aspect and dissect the process.

Blanket over kitchen items with cherry-colored candies;

Sour as they slide, no sweetness in the mind.

Choke an apple a day; no more no less

to smile the treatment away.

Watching the worth of a waistline increase,

but the plague of fatigue steps in tow.

Stuck in a tailspin described as an allergy.

It will pass and no trace will remain,

much like the remnants of wreckage cascading from a crash.

Tendrils of the rift swallow to irrelevance.

Hold no clothing nor possessions nor fellow hands nor brethren.

Kept in nadirs never seen and never visible,

there’s never a smile that’d remain in a torn breast pocket.

A leaking heart wears itself too blindly

and pins dust on its veins to try to clog the cuts,

binding discard to discord for makeshift warmth.

Back in the far reaches laid bare for personal doubt,

there’s an itch notched in the back of the cranium.

Blanking out on another nostalgic drug,

swearing names out that have become dead to mine.

Wrap up the torture in cherry colored bandage,

shine bright to the dark, shut the courage off at dawn,

call the lingering instance of light a process.

Swing the head back and load up the magazine.

Cock the loaded trigger and spout out singsong.

The taste of each phrase sleeps sour on the tongue,

dripping ill optimism to splatter over pessimism.

At the first sound from the morning alarm,

dress for success to utter nothing new again.

Dripping ill optimism to splatter over pessimism.

Infinite happy endings all concluding to nil.

Caught in the tedium and subsequent delirium between closed eardrums.

Slide it back and sense the bitter bite.

No coat of armor blocks an attack from inside.

( ❤ Mitch)

The Product Nears its Expiration Date

What do you think you’re doing crawling out of your box?

We tucked you in so nice and neat,

cutting pinprick holes into this carboard shell just so you’d barely breathe.

Through each gap there’s space enough to cram through enough to satisfy.

Chug down the dose, the hope, the realizations, and call it even on the day.

Categorized, stereotyped,

we’ve drilled a label into your abdomen.

Ostracized, paralyzed,

accept the placement provided.

Do you want to be mad?

Who do you think deserves a wayward pointing blame?

Do you want to be mad?

Who’s the target?

Slash out when a sad man approaches and scratches sprout from your knee.

Analyzed and monitored and pushed out with an assurance and guaranteed debt.

It all seems as though the puzzle was figured out.

This is where you’re meant to follow along.

Do kindly fold your hands together in the face of diagnosis.

So you want to be alone?

You said you couldn’t bear the thought.

So you want to be alone?

How about you stay alone?

And we stand back to watch you toil as you twist away in a cage,

built for you and made with material you provided.

Context is the content of the gray matter that’s been mined empty.

Scream at a blank screen that isn’t answering back.

Worry not, all else have been informed your number’s next in line.

A single drop of blood is a postcard to Hades announcing a ticket purchase.

Maybe you should crawl back to where you came from,

back to where it’s safe.

There was a real world looking in when you were busy looking out

Maybe you should scramble into where your bed has been made.

We wrote the script for you.

We wrote the script for you.

Do you want to be mad now that you’ve got what you wanted?

A little floodlight can hover over the tomb at night.

That small hope must keep burning bright.

You’ll be dragged to the end without a sound.

Until then you’ll spend until you dry.

( ❤ Mitch)