Locked Up Daydreams

No name. No possible request. No absolute
end. No promise to promise you anything. No spit. No spinning
too fast. No sick. No bored. No cheetah skin or speed. No absolute begin or. No vowel. No raw meat
meaning. No slang. No half a cup of blah blah. No more red dead rabbit. No this here and then and. No was. No heat. No sabotage, exile or extermination.
No name. No number or.
No more carbon. No yesterday. No more falling. No
more landing in.
No long lines.
No separation between the minerals in our
dirt. No underwear. No showers. No rare gas glowing, and dying. No blue. No nicotine. No
proper way to be
buried.
No yellow flowers, or white. Never no name. No bags. No other.
-The name is the possible request to-
No name. No possible answer to the only. No fried anything. Nothing flying or crawling on the ground.
No promise to grow but growing still.
-what will always be my-
possible absolute to
the promise of
everything. No. Possible research needed. New or unknown.
-maybe I should just-
Nothing left
to.
-I will-
No name. No possible request. No absolute
zenith.
Just a promise to promise
it. No today. No possible empty realization. No air. No seed or plant that grows. No fingers or toes.
No tongue. No card game. No fresh food, or stale bites. No wind to blow through you or her or even
him. No inside. No sticky or stuck to. Never a name. Never wonder. Never attached.
No joke.
No.
Joke.

“yak yak yak”

Beware of your own happiness. Beware of the highs
   and the ground underneath. Beware the stupid songs running on
repeat inside your little happy head. Beware,beware,beware the
strong bones beneath your skin. Beware the sharp teeth in your head.
Beware the dirt, when it hits you like the deadly fang, dripping good
   and evil. I know you won’t listen though. I never did. Beware anybody,
   thing, or set of eyes that says, “Beware”. I’m not telling you anything
  you don’t know am I?
               This whole mess started as an accident, but my parents would never
   admit it. I don’t know whose idea it was to birth me out of that nice
little sleepy egg, but here I am. Beware.
Anyhow, the biggest part of the mess is that I’m still here, scrambling
   in the pan, just dying to spit in your ear about all of this nonsense
pouring into our senses. Listen up, I ain’t here to make you my friend, I ain’t here
to write sweet salty cupcakes to fill the gaps in your teeth, and I ain’t here
to show you anything you ain’t seen or heard before. I’m just here to
yak yak yak and feel important about it. Shit.
              OK so all I’m saying is watch it when things are going well, thats
  when the trap springs, and that aftermath is cold, hell is cold cold. So try and
keep your feet on the ground, even if you wanna dance em up and away, that’s
kind of where we are headed. Bummed? Beware.
              Thursday night wasn’t really anything, in the beginning it was less
than nothing, it was a beer or two and staring at the phone until the crowd
demanded I should be leaving. But I was singing those little songs, I was feeling
high, I was free again. Beware.
             So the freedom was twinging in me, commanding me to drink,
commanding my brain not to think. It was loud too.
             Jason met me walking out, “ HEEEYY maaann!”
            “hey man hows the art?” -me-
“I’ve given up on all that, music is where I want to be now. It’s like instant
reaction. It’s an answer to all this long division.”
             “odds or evens?” -me-
Beware.

Will Overall lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He hopes to find the time and money to finish his pursuit of a degree in English, but his scratch offs and lottery tickets are always printed with the wrong numbers. His poetry has been featured in Five:2:One Magazine.