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the apollo landed in
my back yard once when
i was eight
and then again
when i was sixteen. the
second time i
got really drunk
and passed out
in the cockpit and
pushed buttons
as my body sprawled
across the dashboard.
when i emerged
and exited
the shuttle
i fell from space back to earth
just landed
in my back yard
and to this day
no one believes
me when i said that
on the way down i died.


she spilled her drink
atop the marble stone universe
and sighed, a heavy
sigh. winds bellowed in it’s
after math; the earth quaked
and suddenly there were
tears streaming across her
beautiful, war-torn face.

a little boy with a gun
in his hands held firm
the notion that the world
was going to end
and indeed,
his childhood
fantasies would soon appear
and dance amongst the living.



woke up hungover, my head is a trainwreck in motion
a million times crashing over and over and over
until the sun rises and sets all cyclical and mocking.
and these days all blend together
chasing each other’s skirts and licking each other’s lips
until they catch up and explode, their parts and functions
spilling all over themselves;
a case of mistaken identity. i’ve forgotten who they are
until she reminded me: “days only have names
because we gave them names”.
and then i named them after stars.

woke up tired and afraid. afraid of the sidewalk
afraid of the monuments
afraid of the silly way your eyes
divert from mine
while i’m shuffling down the
alley way, to the taverns, the campus grounds,
the workplace boxcars searching for a fix.
and i know that it seems strange but i’ve
come to love my new found vices like a dear
friend i’ve discarded and then picked up again when
no one was looking.

time moves in patterns, the same kind of patterns
that you make with your fingers across my back
and you set me on fire
so i purge the flame.


My Friend, Chuck B

i’m losing myself
to pornography.
sometimes i think
its to make
bukowski proud.
i wish i didn’t
know better.


i woke up this morning and
set my hand on fire again
for a moment
then put it out
before i went
about my day.

by lunch time i’m drunk
and singing loudly
to myself
about the time
i fought a schoolyard bully.
I lost, but it was my
only true moment
of glory.

cigarette smoke
escapes the confines
of my jaw and i punch
myself in the head
again for not keeping guard.

“so it goes.”

– r.o.a

Listening to: Blacklisted – Everything In My Life Is For Sale [Album: No One Deserves To Be Here More Then Me]


One Comment

  1. very strong, disorienting images.

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