The Last Earth On Chadwick, In Imaginary Boston

while paving over the archipelagos of my daily dread
i send a voice from my quiet desperation
to the summit of a Cliffhanger  
by proxy.
i phone-in my last nerve.
i know perfectly well that tomorrow will come
with all the profound garments
befitting a Fool.
I will love like I knew I always would.
but something will go wrong…
because Reasons.

And something will go right...
because it’s Crazy.

II

Nowadays i keep to sleeping on the floor of a private hell -
the envy of every cave I’d lost my way in.
I endure the radio of your ravenous flaws and curtail -
the ferocity of your mild amusements…
by gathering a soul glut of gargantuan misery.
savoring the private desolation
of my sincerity. with a feather in my sap.
all the while
against the spectacle of our solemn hootenannies. 
harboring hangnails in barrels of confiscated rain….
For Nowadays my purpose is a ruin
mending a landscape
with all my 
Vanishing.

and a song at the end of a rope.