unraveling void
spiraling tendrils
umbral fingers of guilt
penetrating numbness
an ache of longing
abandoned building
empty rooms
eyes downcast
shrinking posture
wincing thoughts
desperate attempts
hollow pursuits
ripped into pieces
betraying myself
lonely days, and
lonelier nights
constricting down
until I am gone
across the singularity
of my event horizon.


They flow like water onto the page
cascade from fingers familiar with keys
and for a moment, it sets me free
forgets and forgives the self I see.

But what is this?
I open my mouth
heart palpitates
the tongue beats arrhythmic pulse
and the words stutter
the words
the words melt
like too much butter
and suddenly I stand naked
as your eyes bore into me
and I realize
too late
that the words cannot save me

heat comes to my face
as I am betrayed
the words on the page are friends always
I must speak, then the words are gone
and you,
like the words,
have moved along.

Postmodern Everything

Welcome, friends, to the postmodern world. My greeting reaches you about 50 years too late… perhaps we are in the post-postmodern world now.

What do I mean by this? Postmodernism is the sort of exhaustion that came after the modernist movement in the first half of the 20th century. The modernists tried to reinvent everything, break down every barrier, experiment in every conceivable way they could. Once that happened… what was left? Enter postmodernism, the world of the complicated, the world of the gritty, the world of the disillusioned, the world where there was nothing left to explore or break ground on. At least, it must have felt that way, and it still does.

I’m referring to literature, but generally when one area of art or culture gets affected, it bleeds over into other areas. Postmodernism is more than just a literary movement, it’s in the news, in the social interactions, in the ground, the water, the air. That might sound silly, but all of those things really only matter when they’re observed, so the observer’s bias affects them.

I don’t entirely care for postmodern thought. Sure, in some ways we’ve advanced and grown to this point, but in other ways we’ve simply altered to reach this point. We can never be certain of anything, we have to second-guess our decisions, and we don’t just need to be politically correct, but we have to constantly relearn what’s considered politically correct on a minute-to-minute basis. There must be a better way of doing things, but I don’t have the power to change culture all on my own. I don’t even know if my reforms would be better than what we’ve got. Anytime I start to think, “The world would be so much better if it was simple…” I give myself a reality check by looking at some earlier time period when things were undoubtedly simpler… and uglier. Perhaps it’s for the best that we have to challenge ourselves to think about everything, as long as we don’t become completely jaded in the process.

You ask if I’m a democrat,
I say I’m independent
You ask me if I’m straight,
I say I prefer women
You ask me if I’m white,
I say my race is “other”
You ask if I’m a Christian,
I duck and run for cover
You tell me that I’ll go to Hell
I tell you I’m agnostic
no God I’d worship would be so petty
you tell me that I’ve lost it
Out of each choice of black and white
I choose some hue of green
and you can thank postmodernists
if you find this obscene.