me, it's always me around here. out of the window the lava lamp sun drips away. night, lunar at its core, pulls drowning waves. waves. waves. the waves swamp my life for the seconds that i stare for the blood red dawn to beat waves back. the way old sepia women beat rugs clean.

and me, it's always me this time. i think of people who are me. in a clammy, dank underground club, a funnel cloud of ear-splitting, rudimentary music spinning out of control, flash bulb eyes and unsatisfied energy. that energy is me. 

and me, it's the me eras we wait for. i hold my breath, i'm blue. and the new era has begun. time unfiltered is rearranging the picasso future that i will fracture for my children. that i will put the pieces back together for my children.  

and me, it's the me of the family. the shirking beautiful and only, lost hope. the golden retriever of pa and ma grovelling in garbage bins and alleys, wounded by barbed wire and rats. living only by rabid vermin and fetid water.

and now it's me, the me of non-alliance pact. truing the past, ruing tomorrow and arrogant to the future. the nightmares fly uncorroded through dream catchers.

and it's still me, the wandering wounded me. the me of flash backs, kick backs, blow backs, broken backs, forward and backs and the man in black.

and it's the all that left is me. son of a bitch, son of gun, son of soil, son of man, son of harm, son of laws, son of flaws. chills of holding the butt of the rifle, squeezing the trigger until pus seeps from my fingernails. sowing the seed, the bullet bleed around my head.

shots fired. calling all units. shots fired