Mental Illness

In earnest, all I desire is
to write something fun
and simple, easy to quip

a nursery rhyme for
adults, some bumper
sticker phrase that

leans out in chrome
like "don't short the
tall stuff" or "an coke

a day keeps the
dentist getting paid!"
Instead, when I breathe

I shake. I take benzos
for tic-tacs and wake up
at five am with my mother's

voice perfectly recited in my
head like a recording, mispeaking
words - my brain serves up the problems

and I don't care if this is anything
anymore I just want to give you a
piece of myself so that you can
grow or show the world that someone
actually lived for fucking once
my brain gets so hot that I will
cry over nothing and weep when
youtube videos are mild at best
My best is hidden somewhere else
and this is just all of me
I am so broken and so ashamed
for being a person that it has drove
or driven my crazy - like medically
nuts - I hate people and I am a person
and that's fucking crazy.

Bacon For Breakfast

It's usually muesli or
sometimes chocolate chip pancakes
but rarely, and today, it is
bacon

the plastic pack split down the
center and little slivers skitter
in the cast iron pan - oh hot
bacon

The steam and the wisps
and the pops from the stove, the crispy
crackle, the applewood smoke
bacon

-

I take the pan, once its stood -
the sheen of grease turns white
and grey; smear my hands in the fat of
bacon

the neon blue dish-soap like
phosphorescent lemons
splits the spit of fat from crusted iron
bacon

and my hands still gleam with
grease that grace these keys,
coating these arthritic creases with
bacon.

For Joanie

I have a homeless friend
who may have made it to his end
cuz now that I'm stuck inside
I have the feeling he's on his ride

to meet the universe again
the shelters have closed and then
the food doesn't come so fast
and just like us, it won't last

he sat on a bench outside
the Chinese restaurant, I slide
these little lines between
my thoughts of him that seem

to hold no water any more
his morphine gone, a blacked door
he made my car smell of cologne
and I just left him on his own

He called some simple words
more angry than you've ever heard
"You didn't bring the money you
left me here, you fucker who

promised me you'd help me out
and from the grave, from here, I shout
You fucking mother fucking fat
fucking piece of shit and trash"

He died alone alone alone
no home no home no home no home.