Sorry

How does it go?
140 miles from my haloed
head, my ignorant
pearly bones hunched down
in familiar seats, future
   
     a billion star systems
     burning into the inconsequential
     veins of the subway fabrication
     drawing the late straw
     by minutes unfortunate
 
          I'm left as always, sorry &
          on the outside, a familiar
          stanza, ah, metered apology

remember my cadence,
I'll surely be here again.

untitled

She wants nothing of me
but my presence
and I can't even give her that

And What? Now, apologies

It's news to news
to figure I know nothing,
nothing of the world
outside my- imaginary
talk-till-I-can't-remember-when-I-began
abstract far away altered reality
philosophy that I make up
on the go-go-go
because I won't stomach the coffee
jitters and clouds make me laugh out loud
a kind of nonsense-
makes people believe I've got more than rot in my brain
which (isn't) true, 'cause it's all just,
holes up there
miniature holes and holes so large
there's sleeping bugs (giant) bugs
haunting there and snoring,
so fucking loud uncaring,
so's I can barely concentrate on pretending I'm all alive,
and I (want) really could go for some eggs,
an omelete, yellow over the counter, "here we go"
with the ketchup bottle cold and red
bright bright tomato ketchup red next to me,
sweet and hard-caked over that ignore it
disgusting crusted opening,
like the whatever it is leaking from my
liar brain...writing trash, smut, ignorant
lectures burning up into the atmosphere
and
what do I really know,
that's more than anything else?