the body is a temple and the mind is a sledgehammer

market my ego
even though
the market demand

is regressing.

subsidize my masochism
and marginalize
it to table dressing.

interior complexity
and the crossbeams
are slowly

rotting away.

Willie Watt


The Here and Now (and everything in-between)

In my dream
I sit in a sparsely populated

and on the stage
in my dream
the thespians perform the dream
I’m in;

and the audience
in my dream
witnessing the dream I’m in
all hold a green and yellow booklet
of scenes,

and the audience
in my dream,
watching the performance of my dream,
are all dressed in
neo-victorian, steampunk
formal wear.

and the audience are
all pigs – Orwell’s hallucination
watching the postmodern paradox
of my existence.

Symmetry is just a word,
and closed-ends
just a sentence,
in my dream.

have given up
on trying to wake up


Willie Watt

Another Hedonistic Soliloquy

I would write 
another excessively hedonistic

love poem,

sign it with whiskey stains
and call it my special brand of gin-and-toxic

but I’m no good at 
swimming in the lies
or metaphysical opiates,

and even the nihilistic revels
everything to me.

You can’t cure
a romantic
of his inevitable

Willie Watt