Urine Luck Buddy

have i left apologies at the corner of myself

or myself at the corner of apologies

all of these thoughts

like blood clots

bursting to fill the cavernous body with passion

and killing it at the same time

killing time to save the body

but not the soul

or the sole fucker who can’t find his place in the lineup

or who can’t find his face reflected in the post-bull china

shop window, winnowing down a lifetime without giving it much thought

becoming chalk

becoming a chalk outline of himself

and finally a chalk outline himself

help

in the vaguest terms

he needs help

more specifically

he needs a prescription filled

for pizzazz

so jammed with glam

obsessed with green

like Sam-I-Am

man,

someday

hopin’

not to be broken

but be made of broken pieces

like a mosaic

kaleidoscoping its way through a hurricane

a god of broken things

inherited beauty on the head of a pin

pushing off angels into the wind

like counting breadcrumbs or sins

they slip through his fingers and then

What’s left?

After the severely lacking definitions

crumble before holy visions

of this man this serial public urinator dancing, drunk dancing in a golden light that may be holy or rancid but is inevitably totally ignored

[1] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4gs1pb/word_sonnet/d2k9e30) 2