Destroying my art one piece at a time

I tell myself stories
and create word pairings

like a master work of Rembrandt
picture perfect in a frame

but no matter my intention
good will is always marred

by Van Gogh’s lack of detail
or is it his mastery of the craft?

Destroying my art
one piece at a time.

Your finest work was not in oil,
it was in your blood.

The last thing I told him

Some of us
have it
and some
of us just don’t.

The ability
to do
what needs to be
done

all the while
suffering
for a possible
weekend of fun

or a cookie cutter
vacation,
one
that everyone’s been on.

Some of us
have it,
while others
must go out with a bang.

Updates, Headaches, and Suppertime

The more my browser

tells me it’s out of date

the more, out of date

I feel. Perhaps

it’s time for an update.

Perhaps, it’s time for a meal.

Before Long Island

I
believed
in
myself
once.

A
long
time
ago.

Perhaps
too
much.

Perhaps
not

enough.

Like
I
believed
in
you.

A
long
time
ago.

Perhaps
too
little.

Perhaps
too

much.

While
your
many
faces
spoke.

Such
awful
beauty
spewed.

All
that
time.

I
heard

nothing.

Believe
it
or
not,
I

really
believed
in
everyone.

Spitting
tea
leaves.

Before
Long

Island.