I feel

like

I’m being suffocated

with a plastic bag

by a clumsy intern, working for the mafia

the bullet holes, never come

like marbles, that might impact my skull.

No—it’s this vague loss of air. It could be my perception

or my attitude, but it doesn’t seem like there

is enough time

to adjust either one

with a potent enough fantasy.

I have to become totally make-believe, to do my job, standing there, in lines, listening to teenagers

a calm and crazy place

I go into

a personal philosophy

to interpret mundane and murderous tasks.

I go for a swim and walk-through creeping vines

in 1773,

between the pages of 7 beautiful books, that smell like gold.

Nobody I know, appreciates, where I’ve been

because, it was the greenbelt, behind my parent’s house.

I read in a tree

until the sun goes down—

that magical light, casting shadows on the ground,

where treasure might be buried, but actually, it’s the gas line.

Children spend time in fantasy, and then

in the adult world

filled with

square city grids with skyscrapers 60 stories tall, and no words in them

except, the absurd

Somebody goes up and down an elevator

like Sisyphus, pushing his rock, up the hill

the power of being super human

is a need

I fulfill

in my personal library.

Anybody who removes a book

will be skinned

and

I know how to do it

because

I’ve been

Ed Gein, Buffalo Bill, and Hannibal Lecter

on my worst days,

in psychology class.

“I think, therefore, I am.”

Potent words, if you believe them

Thoughts, inside your head

become real.

All man-made things, begin as thoughts

spoken into existence

with words.

Be careful what you think…

Science-Fiction turns into Rockets

What man can conceive, man can achieve

a world is built with words

a language uttered in silence

like spelling-words

casting a spell

on a dark universe

where the tower of babel lies in ruins

and

buildings, three miles high, touch the sky

Men

become gods

in the imagination lands.