Never trust your parents.

Time to die I give up on this shit.

Never trust your parents.

Where is tomorrow?
          Can I find it in the sky above and taste it's secrets in drops of rain?
Or is it in the ground beneath me, stolid and unnoticed.

Perhaps it is in the very air I breath,
          and with each inhalation the very first grandfather clock roars -
waves rolling in and retreating.

Morning Haikus

I think haikus must have been created for poets of the morning, when words come out stilted, intermingled with unconsciousness as we wake. How disappointed I was to learn that haikus do not follow a five, seven, five syllable structure! Instead they count on, or counting phonetic sounds in Japanese. Oh well. I shall work with what I know.


Just breathe in and lie
Under a grand useless tree
In a grand meadow.


Ugh phlegm in my mouth.
Regurgitated inside
Body Pollution.