Short Spigots Poems

green to yellow 
gold to red 
to brown
leaves 
or fairest hair 
worn 
as silken crown
Thick 
with luxury proud 
honey 
poured aloud
endless spigots 
with 
memories to attend.
Now lost to brush 
or hand 
or wind
all leaves, 
all hair,
and all souls 
in the 
end....

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hours fracture by
spigots clog every pore
the ideatron flickers on off
on off, on off, on off
flexing muscles and flipping through 
maladjusted soft spots in the lightly lit dayroom
sometimes i soak in the inane and wonder
am i really inching closer to something worthwhile
or am i ever falling, flailing arms into the ruin of insanity?

but there's something inside me
it must mean something

it must mean i'm losing it...

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