mundane mystery

I'm an asshole
when I'm productive

I'm a drunk
to ward of the inevitable

I'm trying
to make you understand
I'm volatile, I'm an epiphany, I'm an asshole
and if your lucky

I care enough to forget your name,
to make you get bored of searching before you give up.
It's not interesting or even fair
but you've only lost something when you have to find it.

preparing to be miraculous

It's hours before
I'll meet this, child, the details
I know are skeptical and missing needed information
at best.

It's hours before
I'll meet this child
and his Mother all ready
believes I will get him to stop banging his
skull to the tiled bathroom floor, softly
accenting every fourth slam with exceptional
intensity.

It's hours before
I'll meet this child
and I prepare to be miraculous,

before transformation the cigarette burns
to a small, filthy nub between
my pointer finger and thumb
My lips quiver, I lick them rawer with my tongue

It's hours before
I'll meet this child,
my lips form words before I can acknowledge I may
not be talking to just myself, remember to breathe, please
Please god Give me this Gift One More Time.