A poem is a parenthetical to an initial thought seeping slowly out the space where it was thought.

Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson, “Buriedfed” lyrics: http://bit.ly/8sVWvI

BURIEDFED
This is my last song about myself, about my friends
Found something else to sing
Try and patch it up with tape and twine
Maybe I’ll just break everything that’s mine
They wheeled out my casket,
They said, “Boy, lay down your head”
I said, “Aw shit, man, I ain’t even dead”
I won’t be buried for I’m…
My friend, who’s a real [...]

If people play it much differently than you makes it no less of a game.
Dumb fuck.

Too high is the cost for a personal brand.

Spent is the rent
on an abode
for a soul.
No matter.
Just move.
And see, here,
almost a picture.

De Bilitating-Pression, Jacques.
Je suis. Pleased not to meet you.

So much humor.
It’s depressing.

How’s that congenital opposition to self promotion working out for ya?
Not utterly awful, thanks.

BEFORE THE GAME
Shut one eye then the other
Peek into every corner of yourself
See that there are no nails no thieves
See that there are cuckoo’s eggs
Shut then the other eye
Squat and jump
Jump jump high high
On top of yourself
Fall then with all your weight
Fall for days on end deep deep deep
To the bottom of your abyss
Who [...]