September 16, Free-Write

I find a jaded path going home in a flask.
I've known side-roads that wind back.
I've gone pale white and black eye-sighted.
I invited lights inside my mind, flash bright
on an impulse of the tongue-flight.

Gnab the money, run for the gun.
Grab my glass of gin and get your ass back in
to safety. My pace's been racing away,
wasted for days. Watch my crimeful ways
cause the frame to slowly dim and fade.

My Last Sights Flash Bright

My last sights flash bright,
washed away, drowning down the drain,
flushed through veins, speaking in dreams.
Same dreams daily; some snap as it seems.

Water covered underneath a zipper.
A whole ocean with six clipper ships floating over it.
Toads jumping backwards, some fall flat on their backs.
A frog stuck in my esophagus. Take a shot
to watch it wash the words away, drowning down the drain

of yesterday's fading memoirs,
the same day repeating in a dream.
A ripple in your stomach quiver, building pressure
until your eyes start to shatter at their seams.

Love, look, I will never blink when you stare
because my eyes don't shut when I dream asleep.
I shutter at the thought to wake and think.