Amazing how cold it gets

     in Chicago

     on a Tuesday.

Watching palm trees die

     on Lake Michigan

     would be more sad

     than not having them

      at all.

And loneliness becomes a game

     having the winning streak of

     creating self-pitying ignorance of

     friends.

I need a light.

Doing good kept me out of the

     cool kid’s gang

     called it a team,

     they laughed that I was

     always so damn cold.

So I stopped wearing jackets.

     Now I’m sick all the time.

It’s dark in here,

screaming loud,

     save me

     this isn’t what I thought,

     it’s dark in here!

I’m not trying to be heard

     really,

there’s enough noise coming from

     the blue bird.

Once in a while, try listening inside

     your chest

     put your head in a pillow.

Open up some light and lock it in.

These people are draining

     pretenders

     who can’t stop blowing out candles

     to see themselves shine.

But they can’t get a light because

     it’s so awfully dim

     and silent beyond silent

     the still of complacency

     is just an absolute

     endless round of

     dragon’s soot.

It does get red-nosed cold here.

I imagine, it gets warmer

      in the break of the sun

      in opened books

      or in machined hearts.

My god,

      it’s dark in here.