leedle leedle leedle lee

Relinquished identity
Fathomable heart
And what?
Ripped apart from the inside
Intestines churning with acid dripped from stomach woes
It doesn’t make sense — not of it
Not the cheery eyes plundered from screaming village fires
Drawn apart from unknowing desperate cries
It all makes sense of painting, of art
Knowing it all leads into reductive gaze

Silenced understanding yearning for dispassionate apologies
Harkened breath fallen unto rusty metal crests
Filled to the brim of the lung
Pneumonic ashes festering in unkempt bodily stasis
How it could have been different if one knew of truth

I found meaning in a rotten tomato salad
Spilled on the ground, seeped into pristine tile flooring
Green granite, dyed from high mountain corridors
Jettisoned through the sky and plopped at my feet
Smashed not once but twice with daring force
Cracking open the ground to see
What’s underneath
Below our humpered bodies
A sad earthworm tramped below our feet

blimpy bloompy

The only thing more real than ghouls
Revenge fantasies and plots and turning points
And wooden stakes driven down our throats
Coughing up syrup, sunken into our lungs
Reneged chance against formidable torrents
Finding where shallow depths did not yield
Anything at all

Fainting shadows, beholden light
Forestalling striped crevices against curved edges
Fingers tattering away at cold cylinders
Tattling chatters hidden behind blue covers

Restitution came one day in a silky dress
Draped against a banner of burnt mold
It came in two, tattered in negligence
Sovereign recognition put on hold

Delightful, resounding altered mind
Finding its in woes from enter and go
Liquified into puddy, wanting nothing more
Than to drop dead and hear the birds sing
When did it come, if it ever did come?
Squawking screams sounded the same as birthed reams

Terrorizing image
Teetered living
Found itself resounding as if sight could
Never bore so deeply into our psyche
It came so far in so quickly
So unashamedly we did not know where
To go, or where to come, or where did
King Midas last leave his touch

tree fiddy

Coral branches spilling from a tree
My autonomous nervous system
Belong together
In absence of flesh
Dwindling silence of soulless nights
Winter leaves drip down onto the ground
Finding itself
Lost within the echoing snow
Melded and imprisoned into the Earth
Gripped onto a unrelenting trunk
So husky
So inert
Wretched axes have a intriguing power
To destroy that which cannot change
The hefty metal husk
Dulled but unrelenting
Its immovable nature
That which cannot change cannot change
That which cannot change changes

Change comes in effect and affect
Two forces in opposition and directivity
Collusion of selfless identity
Bark peeling from a tree
Do trees feel pain
When axes bring down life
Fire bring down collective existence
Do trees wish they did not exist
Ripped apart from the inside
When filled interior cracked open
When hollowness is brought in
Where hollowness did not exist before
It whines when the wind batters
It hollers when the branches snap apart
All that is left in the end is ruthless
A present
Something that is there now
Something that wasn’t there before
Relinquished passivity

hegel bagel

I was thinking about Hegel while eating a bagel
Wondering if Hegel ate bagels
Did Hegel inherit the Earth with bagels galore
Able to eat bagels on a table?

The Hegel bagel is a unsung fable
Playful to its very end
With smashed avocado dripping on a runny egg
Yolk hanging on the edge so unstable

Hegel bagels should be an anthem
Because life without bagels is fatal (dastardly!)
How do we live life without knowing how to live
Where guidance is only found in bagels?


I found leftover natty light in this little bag in my closet
It was from high school, when alcohol was considered cool
I saved it up, thinking that I would need it later
There would be a moment when using it seemed right
when the opportunity arose, then I would bring it out

A couple years passed, and I thought that I would remember it
But here it was sitting alone, because I never drank it
I don’t think I touched it since I put it there. A couple
of times I wished I had it on hand. But when it did arise
I would always forget

I don’t need it any more, now being old and all.
I’ve been thinking about how I am
someone who saves. I always wait for the next part of
my life when I would need things more than I do now
There would come a time when things become more clear
I wish that time would come sooner. Then I wouldn’t feel
the need to save anymore. It would be a time
when I finally understand
how to help myself

I can’t help but be wrong in how I lived my life
I often wonder if there would be a time I’m not
It seems so appropriate, so fitting, that my life ended up
the way it has. I am someone who saves. I am someone
who stumbled along inadequacy when I don’t know
if I could have achieved so much more. I question
the life I lived, the life I helped myself with
and I ask myself,
was it worth it in the end?

camus goes moo

Sadist tendencies never led to anywhere
Yet human tendencies are not those meant to share

The distance between two points is increasing
Like the expansion of the universe, they will not meet

I question why I wanted this past occasion
The one filled with nothing but brash abrasion

This is a life that is so familiar to me
But the life I have now is what is good for me

Weather the acid rain, like falling droplets of death
I take it in and breathe it in, hoping to be unaffected

I have been skirting around the miasma for so long
I know I would have to breath it in eventually

It is only once I have accepted this air can I live in it
Before I do, I’m just holding in my breath

Like in a swimming pool, I can sink to the bottom
In fear of the air, the water never felt so comfortable

Before long, I will rise to the surface
I hope I will accept the air when I do

When individuals stay too long at the bottom
They start to forget the light of the sun

A couple feet down in the ocean is all it takes
For sunlight to abandon what it cannot see

I wish I could rise up from the bottom
I know I can, I’m just waiting for the moment

Yet, I wonder if this moment will ever come
I’m starting to believe that it does not exist

What does that mean for me? I cannot wait for the sun
Perhaps it’s not the moment but the act of waiting I seek

I wait for the air to pass, but until then I breathe water
Until one day, I realize the air has become less toxic

I come out of the water to this liberated air, only to discover
I can breathe both air and water

simp city


Fevered moments rested in little capsules
Traumatic capsules fed into unnerved souls
Through vexing moments of fallacious tides
Movements fettered unto shallowed walls


Rumbling forest echoes forgetful mold
Forever holding that which cannot hold
Revenged plots reneged on moments hesitation
The end holds dear for those that have too much to lose

I understand that indifference breeds only unknowing hope
Simplistic chasms only create wrought nodes


Sinking down below the mud gathers at our ankles
The mud only holds value when you can float
When you sink below, the world seems to at ease
At your demise, what is there left to hold dear?


Angel of death, angel of life
What is the difference… doesn’t death having meaning
because of life?
Or is it the other way around
Does life have meaning
Does life have
death because


Winds blow right at a light indicated left
Screeching tires know little of tired drivers
Death comes slow
Life comes slow
Was it worth the wait? What is
the wait worth waiting for?

It is so long ago, you might have forgotten
Three little pigs, sitting in a tree
One is tasty
One is dirty
One is a productive member of society that consumes and contributes


Eating tacos at Distrito reminds me of those forms you fill out to declare your major
It is
Epic life, epic death

moody booty (2)

In the morning, I have to study
Some parts in life don’t change
Not that I want them to
It is a certainty that comforts me
Relieves me
Of those parts that did not happen in the way
I wished

Constant source of stress
Constant source of comfort
Constant source of ambiguity
Constant source of stress
Constant source of comfort
Where gratitude comes and goes
I find myself once again on a desert plain
Grasping for water when I am full
Because I anticipate that future date
When water is scarce
And my throat dies up in the sandy winds

I collect my surroundings
My iPad, and some back envelope calculations
These are things I have
I have things I did not have before
Where do these things come
Where do these things go
They are of this time in my life
This time of my life is here

I remember at this point last year
Things were for the most part settled
The tempest disintegrated into nothing
I was left with the remnants of a flooded house
And I thought that would be the
Last storm
For some time
But there is a storm to come
There always is
We have to prepare for this storm

I wonder if there ever will come a time
When there will be no more storms to come
No desert winds striking at my feet
Just the wisp of sunlight
Gently tapping the ground
Where I could pick it up
I wonder if that day will come