They walk up to it
Wrap their hands
Around the hilt
Like money-lenders
On collection day

They want the sword
The respect
The adulation
The entitlement
The power

I know she’s mine
At night, I see her.
Excalibur shines
Her light blinds

I see her truth
Lost lovers at war
Meaningless quests
Fallen kingdoms burning
The weight of the crown

I feel her in my hand
I see my death
Excalibur broken
Camelot only a tale
Told to children to
Remind them that

Nothing gold can stay
There is no magic left
Destiny’s path ruins all
Who blindly walk it

My hope is that one child
Will walk out to the mossy
Lake behind their broken
Home and squint into the sun
Waiting for a flash of metal
To rise from its depths
And remember that destiny
Is not always cruel nor kind

It is the weight of the crown
It is the smile of a woman
It is the wonder in a sunset
It is the legend left to dust

So she waits for me
The stone in the square
A shining city gleams
Excalibur beckons
Destiny calls

I can ignore it no further

Peel back the universal membrane
Flimsy and fragile like a cheap shower curtain
Feet leave this world and step into the next
Ignore the rainbow swimming at the edge
For science and exploration is the goal

The newspaper reads “Sanders wins nomination”
This is common knowledge to all here
Don’t react with anything but acknowledgement
Blend in with the paint of people, you are just the primer
Underneath and invisible, keeping the walls from rotting

No spacesuit, no ATV, just walk into the next universe
Peel, step, assimilate. Peel, step, assimilate.
Home is gone. An eternal traveler searching
For a feeling of comfort and security that has
Melted into the membrane that lies below

An ash-person falling apart with each step
The only identity is in the movement
Time passes, cities fall, people die
Ignore the rainbow swimming at the edge
For science and exploration is the goal

You are a god in the skin of a mortal
No one knows who you are and what you did
There is a freedom in invisibility, Vagabond of the Parallel.
Riding the train, your bindle filled with the treasures of the tracks
Your only purpose to keep moving, your only direction forward

Peel back the universal membrane
It feels different this time, heavy and soft
Like a velvet curtain across a bay window
The sky looks familiar, red light with purple clouds
Made it back. Hope drains. Identity lost.

Head up. Move forward.
Grab a corner of the air.
A wrapper on a popsicle
Peel. Step. Assimilate.
You are your journey.
Home rides the rails with you.
Smile, Vagabond of the Parallel

Alabaster girders suspended by pulpy flesh
Held together by fluid, humours and will
You are the architect, designs drawn, plans made

I am the overused network of subway tunnels
Cracked walls, broken tracks, repairs unfinished
Dead-eyed drones bustling from place to place
Not knowing why they go to where they go or
Even knowing what to do once they get there
A purpose left suspended in their empty minds

I am the electrical wiring, exposed in certain places
Cobalt-blue electricity leapfrogging rubber insulation
Cables stapled to the wall at uneven intervals
Different eras of wiring on top of one another
Removal is much harder than just packing
New on top of old and praying that nothing explodes

I am the rusty pipes, pumping water from home to home
Carrying the waste away and pouring out the clean
But there is only so much I can do to make fresh
What has rotted from disrepair, abuse, apathy, greed
Skeleton City is dying.

The girders crack.
The tunnels collapse.
The wiring ignites.
The pipes burst.

The drones all die.

I am the structure, left alone
The streets are empty
The lights are dark

I am order without purpose
The night sky is choked with smog
I can not see the stars

EMPTY ME YA BITCH
YOU’RE JUST SHITTING INSTEAD
I GOT YOUR BLOODY TISSUES,
YOUR TOILET PAPER ROLLS,
YOUR TOOTHPASTE BOX

AT LEAST YOU GET A CHANCE
TO EMPTY YOUR WASTE
I JUST SIT HERE
WHILE YOU JUST SHIT THERE
I SEE YOU, YOUR UNDIES ON THE FLOOR
LIKE THE REFUSE OF A ONE NIGHT STAND

BUT ALL YOU DO IS – FUCK ME
ACTUALLY YA KNOW, FUCK YOU
I CARRY YOUR WASTE TOO
I’M NOT AS SHINY AS THE TOILET
OR AS CLEAN AS THE SINK

I’M JUST A DAMN TRASHCAN
AND YOU DON’T EVEN SEE
THAT YOU ARE THE EXACT SAME
AS ME, YA BITCH

FILLED WITH THE WASTE OF
PEOPLE WHO RUINED YOU
AS THEY STUFFED MORE TRASH
INTO YOUR EARS, YOUR MOUTH,
YOUR NOSE, YOUR ASS UNTIL

ALL YOU WERE WAS AN
OVERFLOWING TRASHCAN
IN THE CORNER OF A DUSTY
BATHROOM. AND THEN THEY
LEFT YOU BEHIND, INVISIBLE
AND FOREVER CHANGED.

…..so empty…

Me
You

BITCH.

If you turn the wrong way on a Glasgow street,
You might see a fine white hair, far too glossy to be real,
Float down from an apartment’s balcony and land in a puddle
But it does not sink. It hovers millimeters above the water’s surface
You are too lost in your drunken fancies and mundane worries to see

At night, across the fog-soaked moors,
If you are a restless sleeper and dream yourself awake,
You can hear hoof-beats like ancient drums,
The rhythm alien and enticing, filled with frenzy and ecstasy
You climb out the window, bare feet padding against the dewy grass
But there is nothing to find, only the endless night and endless wonder

In daylight, you pester your guide
“If they aren’t real, what did I hear last night?”
You say to his sharp and quiet eyes. He chuckles
And says “Probably just a horse escaped from a paddock.”
But when he spoke, you saw a smile appear that said
You are not wrong. I’ve heard it too. We all have.

So you keep watch in the moonless night
If you can stay awake for long enough
You know it is out there with its single spiral horn
There are no stars to show you what you want to see
You fall off the window ledge and land in the grasping mud
But as you look up into the sky, the black swallows the light inside

A taxi waits to take you back to your drab home
If you need a hand to get your bags
The driver doesn’t care and smokes a cigarette
Reality sets in, gray sweeps in, your mind wipes the colors away
But in the distance, you see a pearl-white mane, alien and enticing
You chase it, more unreal and alive than you have ever been

Faith is not just for religion.
Dreaming is not just for sleep.
Magic is not just for the naive.
Wonder is not just for the young.

In Scotland, the unicorn waits.

My pencil strokes are unhurried
I trace the grooves in the paper
Gray graphite reveals nothing
An art best left to someone else

My notes fall out of the staff
F#,Ab, I am diminished by music
Incomplete composition tells truth
An art best left to someone else

My dialogue overflow my brain
Rivulets of water from a mountain spring
Sloppy scripts say nothing of myself
An art best left to someone else

My thoughts burst into being
Creation for creation’s sake
Rapid revelations mean little
A life best left to someone else

Yellow wings spreading,
Tumbling through the air
A stack of wooden boxes
Succumb to gravity

Your feet fly up, pants rip
One testicle peeking out
Like a mound of sand
Amidst an ocean of denim

But I saw. I watched
I laughed.
Your foot on the banana peel
You fell and I filmed

I’ll tell you a secret.
I put it there.