Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

What are your plans for the weekend?
Here, Saturday will be so long
Invaded by the tiny ants of paranoia 
Slithering like the uninvited serpent guest 
Beneath the front door 
Squirming in the heat of the unforgiving summer sun
On my fine, hard, black ceramic floor
It wasn’t meant for that


You’ll hope for Sunday blessings 
But instead
Upon the break of the holiest of days
You’ll find yourself without a drop of water 
Surrounded by the island’s unfriendly desert granite
And a bunch of pests 


Reach the mountains
Find a single hidden fountain
Neath the statue of a saint
Guarded by security cams
Blending into the landscape 
Out here, in no man’s land  


Maybe ask the cops 
The ones who followed you there
For directions 
Directions to somewhere sane 


But before you do, they’ll look away 
Pretend they didn’t even see you there
The only other living creature 
On a Sunday at high noon
Among the bone dry rocks 
Skeletons scattered across this wild forgotten land 


Return to your arid cave 
And find someone else’s gushing fountain 
Right outside 
Bubbling, the living water spills mockingly
And drowns the boulevard 
Such spite 


Turn the screeching key
Greet your crawling guests
A new army of ants
Never rest


Collect all the drops of moisture you can find 
Barely enough to whip up a lunch and a prayer
Instead of cussing at the happy looking sky


Brew a cup of pitch black coffee 
Light a cigarette on fire 
It’s getting late, no time left for denial
Got to act fast


Through the smoke and anger 
Calculate your chances 
At being normal again
Maybe next weekend 
Join the fun and go out dancing
Forget all fear and all danger 


What are your plans for the weekend? 
I’ll spend it picking bitter fruits 
From that flourishing tree of Paranoia
It needs no water 
It grows on worries
I’ll spend it wondering 
If there’s a recipe to make 
A paranoia marmalade