Author: David X. Hugo

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poetry

\\\on this given day
–we write in your language
on the L[an(231)]D we TOOK
from
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and animal grunts
..eating
and sh1111111iting
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m:::::o<<<<dels////
of an outdated design;
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,

dead senses.

C E O

poetry

you should be concerned
about the grapes drying up
in your orchard as the heat-
wave creeps towards your
summer home

you should be concerned
about not remembering the
science behind convection
as the particles around you
start to accelerate

and when your stupid old a/c
finally needs replacement
and your help draws their
pentions, you’ll find no-one
around to sell you new models

you’ll sit between the rows
of brittle grape vines, a beacon
of passivity, greed, and
ignorance; dry bones for
the archaelogist of 2mrw

summer home

poetry

you woke up and ate eggs at
the bar in your summer home

on the beach
the sun pouring in and bouncing
off of your white sheets

and you must think it mad
the things i think to think
about,
and purely so

but those babies in the garbage
why,
they’re all miles away
outside of your bubble,
anyway.

a couple more days (to the tune of plastic birds)

poetry

i shouldn’t expect you to be like me
my pretty plastic bird
and when i took you to the fare
you said that life’s not fair

when i go home at night
and i think about it
i know i only want the truth
and that’s all i want from you

and when i realize
looking into your eyes
that they are plastic beads
i wish that you could see

i guess that i’m a mess
and i get left like that
cuz you can’t tell
i wish you’d go to hell

i lose my appetite
i’d rather be lonely
cuz it’s not fucking cool
being such a fool.

unnoticed

poetry

drowning is the loneliest as
even sound can’t get to you

water floods your body

thoughts flood your mind

thoughts of your friend’s faces
rapt in moments of sheer ecstasy

but not saving you
like the particles moving
a r o u n d your outstretched arms

and when you first go down
you know
and your heart
it knows

and it matches the bpm of
all of the saddest songs

a slow shuffle for the
last dance

you’re a wallflower at
this slow dance
but the song never resolves
and you’re last thoughts
are cliche

like that song candle in
the wind, or whatever

you feel like one of those
candles, and you feel the
flicker and understand it
like you couldn’t before

when the understanding comes…
well
you know what happens then,
even now you do

like when you had nothing to
do so you just fell asleep.

snakes with certificates, snakes with names

poetry

everywhere i look i see snakes
and i just
can’t
stop
talking
about it

how could one, when all one
has to see is snakes? snakes
by the dozens, hissing and
slithering in all different
colors and sizes.

i try and kill them, these

horrid

snakes

but

there are just too many,
and they wont even kill me,
they just hiss

and slither

and i sit in a big wide green
beautiful field with all of
the beauty of space covered
in fucking snakes and cry.

emerald

poetry

i have a cat and home and
she tickles my heart

(i don’t have a whining
air conditioner in my head)

i just got my rations and
i can smile through the
smog and my family
keeps me grounded
as they will last forever.
my dad teaches me how
to
hunt the hunt in any
season
and he guts it all for me
and he does all the
driving
and one day i’ll get
married, as a good
man is hard to find;
one to bring into your
family, as they will
last forever.

my name’s emerald,
and my smile out-shines
this taco bell™.

justdoit

poetry

all feeling left like falling rain
you’re in my bed i can’t complain
the thoughts in head i can’t explain
i want you here for me to drain
i want you here to cause some pain
and light the fire with the flame
you hand me dice to play a game
i’m bad at keeping myself trained
it is ingrained, i go insane
your car is still parked outside.

partial lyrics on a sunday

poetry

the ghosts of rocks tap your window
your friends are all dust in the air
you feel like some low-budget horror movie
trashed on a god-given sunday

and i’ve not got any pain left
and i might die but that’s okay
and this old movie called “youth”
well it gets old in it’s own way

the monkeys turn tricks on the boulevard
the leaves flap around in the sunlight
well painkillers make me feel alright
i guess that’s how i lie to get by sometimes
i guess that’s how i lie to get by alright.

untitled

poetry

life has her hands down
her pants and she’s
thinking of someone else
you are
in the
right hand
lane,
following all of the
exit signs

the crows they line up
by the high-way side

it’s getting dark out
and you’re getting tired
so you’ll go to a motel
where she will fake it
to keep
you alive
for herself

the acid rain clouds
seem to follow your car

you wonder if you’ll ever
make it home.

florida monday

poetry

i get my fix alone
in my grandfather’s shoes
in my grandmother’s home

he left his shoes and tore
out his heart
she left her home and drowned
in perfume

i make my way to the
old sea
churning up sludge

i stand there and get my
fix again like all beasts but
think something of it

or think something will
come of it

i write with his pen
i whisper in her words

i let the sun asphixiate my anxiety
i shake the dirt off my skin
like a rug
i run head first into the sludge

i swim