Your Silent

The sorrow of each man is drenched with introspection
subjectiveness is the quality of pain
which we can never see
and to each individual
the avalanche is real
even if it looks like a snowflake
in the monotony
we are crushed and
brought back to life
by the best thoughts we can conjure
if we are lucky
the mind contorts
trying to rescue itself
from a private execution
the brain twisting its spine
trying adamantly
to squirm out of its situation
fighting against its
biggest opponent
itself
sometimes succeeding
and then we grow stronger for having done so
god bless those who have done so
but often
the plate breaks
ceramic on stone
stranded and alone
so the individual must sweep
up the pieces
and form a new vase
one for holding expired flowers
but flowers none the less

 

Like a Strand of Hair

I’m remembering when you came up the stairs with a tiny porcelain pot and in it was our first house plant. . It died a week later. That house was so awkward, the cupboard doors wouldn’t stay shut and the leaky roof was a constant reminder that we were just a couple sheets of drywall away from nature. But we had a few laughs and got drunk from time to time and like all good houses we felt at home. We whispered at night to appease the ghosts. We whispered at night because it was cute. We whispered at night. There was that one time when I was taking down the Christmas lights and fell off the ladder, I thought had broken my back lol. You called me a pussy and told me to get up while passing me a glass of rum and a cigarette. It turned I was fine and the rum was nice and I never did finish taking down the lights, so they just hung there all year like a long strand of hair touching the tip of the tallest blades of grass

https://soundcloud.com/muags/their-smiles-will-be-huge-and

Upper Canada Mall

Watching people
Watch people
iPads and coffee cups
Discussions
And break ups
Nicotine tear drops
The both of us
Just sucking our lives away
Pipe dreams
On the mind
Fantasy in our voices
The both of us
Just chipping at the block
Sculpting the future

To Smile in the lowest Places

Somewhere between extremism
And monotony
There is a glass of wine
Full of epiphanies
It is your duty to find the
Glass of truth, the goblet
Of illumination

It is your mission here in this experience
To seek a conduit for novelty
The universe rewards risk
And calculated craziness

Where the plan has gaps and voids
You will become paranoid
And god bless this moment
This is what you have been
Waiting for

A chance for growth
an opportunity
To dance with
Rapturous freedom

To sweat sweet visceral
Beads of joyous
Adrenaline
To smile in the lowest places
And laugh at full
Capacity

To feel your soul explode
With happiness
To be hung-over
And see the seas wind
Blow into a girls dress
And watch that fabric dance
Just watch that fabric dance

Junk Removal pt2

You die and you’re gone
But the junk
You collected is
Left behind

So I come and take it
For a fee
Then it goes to the dump
To rot like you

So don’t bother
Buying a fancy picture frame
Or a souvenir
to remember
That time you went to Florida

North Beach Hotel

We barely talked
and it was obvious
at the time
But it was alright
We looked at
each other
with merlot pupils

We were connected only
by the air between us
in the places we visited

Sometimes
It is easy to mistake
Cosmic attraction
with similar
Itineraries

Early Summer

Kensington Market is
Heating up
The crowds are out
And some unshaven armpits
Glide by on a long board
Im having a smoke
And the humidity is telling
Me to quit
My lungs will serves as
An archive of my poor choices
The mortician will slice me open
To observe my rings
There will be no moisture
In there
When the scalpel hits
The tissue my organs
Will crack open dusty
Like the sidewalls of a tire
That has seen
Too much action
So mortician, discard me in
Some field and set
Me on fire so i may
Join the humidity and
Be inhaled into
The lungs
Of some other
Smoking fool

Old You Know Who

I burnt my hands
on her
searing hips
My grip was tight
during the ride
And now
I feel the sting

Her love
was a boomerang
I could not reciprocate
She was a
tornado passing through
so true and
spectacular
But now
a few years later
I struggle
to
remember her

House Ship

The floor began to rumble
It was around 830
I heard people upstairs
Turning
Cranks and shouting demands
It all sounded quite routine
The house began to lift
Some dirt was shaken
And displaced, i could
Sweep this up later
The whole house was out of
The foundation now and
We were well above
The neighborhood. My room did
Not have windows but
I suspected we were somewhere
Above Toronto now, in our suspicious rocket house
I heard thrusters powering up
Hmmm ssss
Sonic boom. The house blasted
Into space , a perfect launch

I sat back in my chair
With wine and music
Another successful day misunderstanding
My place in the world
And now outer space