the shower’s a warm blanket
but the cold lives in my spine
if only i could see
then i wouldn’t be so blind
tell me i’m not fine
tell me not to cry
the president’s a virus
and my family is the host
they pull all of their pants down
to get lashed by the holy ghost
castigate my mind
tell me that i lie
my father is a rapist
and my mother cries all day
the sun dances in the window
but has nothing much to say
i’m starting to unwind
i’ve nothing but the time
let up
lift off
be wary those that are born
into this prison
and straighten your spine
and look forward
for all eyes belong
to the great gods of hell
who filled walls
with your dead brethren
and covered them in
the faces of their family
eat love and pray
under their holiness, I say
although
it may pick at your soul
to do so
the sun will shine on
endlessly
but men can
block your view.
a summer dream
we speak of love
in birdsong
do not poison
the air with your
“sentences”
do not focus your
“attention”
i would work a lifetime
for 5 minutes more
with her
i noticed in
the back seat of your car
that you do not breath
but beg for life
sucking in and
pushing out
and i am a minute counter
it is for common courtesy
that i waste this time with you
s
o
how many notes
am i to play
in your silent
composition,
susan?
for what should i solve
in your bad math
equation?
i frantically try
at the right words to keep yours
from coming
but our energies repel
and i like it that way.
walking in circles picking off dead skin
trying to stay alive
we ask big questions of ourselves
like what do i WANT?
until we forget how the sun feels
and why we need it.
she’s real sweet
he says
crying outside of my door all night, too
i hope you can
find a good place for her
and just like that ~
a bus ticket
a backpack
he says he only eats vegetables
right after purchase
and runs everywhere
now
and
there are ghosts all around him
working for food
trim plant
cut weed
make nice with zombies
as
the ghosts just grow
and grow
while endurance starts to fail
the drugs and money
come back
like cancer in the
lymph-nodes
a rush of euphoria
a gasp for air
let the beat ride out
because it’s feeling tight
leave your stupid fucking
artist persona at the door
the vampires can’t get us if
we’re in the woods dancing
let’s all become one
and kill our grandfathers
they can’t fool an athiest
a post-modern punk fuck up
let’s end the song here
before we get off track
and they gun us down in daylight
or we lose our faith
you are tiny motors
driven by light
beg like the rest
make deals with
the devil
refuse
to understand
yourself
as an object
in space
never take
a best guess
at how you are perceived
by others
and i cannot decide
whether or not
to breath again
you just let me so i started to eat you i was so hungry but slowly for it to last and you laid yourself down for me night after night the only other person i thought for miles that i’d see and i left your lungs so that you could breath i left your heart so that you could bleed together in a bed in which i could not sleep i was intense and disgusting and covered in fleas i got so mad at you eventually that i ate your eyes so you couldn’t see all through the night i would wail and scream and i puked up all the parts you had given to me you covered yourself in ink to hide away and last we met you revealed unto me that all along you’d saved pieces of me too and in the graveyard there was something poetic about me cumming in your mouth near decomposing bodies neath the dirt and i miss you like a heroin spoon in my dreams you still look tasty and i know you don’t feel the same you never had the stomach to keep down human flesh we were so young we just couldn’t tell that you can’t eat people like i do you can’t eat people like i do
was slow on the way to the river
born with bad eyes, you know
oh
please don’t leave me behind
was last to get round the bend
to see it brown and shallow
y’all got your fill up stream
but i’m still thirsty
and when we tried to go there
together
someone always runs ahead
they run with the devil
and after 28 years
not that i was counting
i’ll step on backs to get to the head
i’ll bend glass round my eyes to see
i’ll cover my ass with animal skin
i’ll dig a hole to the fucking core
i will pass you and crush you completely
to behead the devil whom sits at the mouth
oh
i hope that i have the spirit
to crush that damn
it is because the worrying won’t go away
that i must stretch out my standing with
long bouts of meditation
hiding, and looking away from
the beasts of currency and wealth
this failure is not a destination but a
bitter road to travel
it is a neurotic compulsion
that drives me to such barren solitude
to stop from sifting through your pedals
i, desiring
via morose curiosity
to feel disgusted by the microscopic bugs
that actually live on every flower
where there are some
slander, definition:
inflammation
also calamity
vindication
a condemnation inspired by
my 16 year old penis
an obsession with your lungs
and whispers told at me
enrapturing or capturing me
or holding me down like gravity
i am unbecoming
i am hallucinating that you
are falling angels from the sky
and a soothsayer
perched on you
is lying about me
from you to me and
between you and i
a false light shines
not bright but loud
i shake
and shake with
anger
confused and hungry
a dog with no name
inspire my
pencil fingers
to trace your
crooked spine
write stories that
never resolve
that we both hate them
should be enough
lay ruin to topsoil
dig for something
underneath
that never
i find strange comfort in
the wind amongst the plains
of which i fight to keep
this light aflame
need find new fuel i may
for cracks have formed
which let the wind through
twixt my angry arms
what then could i use to
generate light and heat?
reach deep within my chest
at a heart that ne’er did beat?
stumble blindly toward the horizon
with eyes that ne’er could see?
gradually i become the dirt
no longer able to protect this
naive light
no longer to protect this
ignorant heat
unable to save this
stupid flame
i’m watching coachella
on youtube from kansas
wondering what God’s plan was
for all those dead middle
eastern babies
and what the fuck kendrick means
in his new album about God this
and this is what God feels like
and God chose the brown skinned
that are the true Israelites
and i can’t wait for the day that
He comes back down
oh my God i can’t wait for the day
He come back down
our male biblical salt pillar great flood
myth
i will take the full brunt of His might
like walking to a bunker in the hot, arabic
peninsula
American bombs raining down atop me
enough lava to wipe clean the soil
a plague of insects growing out of
my dead body
and i will know of hell, then
and the purgatory before it
you can’t love
a fuck-stick
you love fucking
not the stick
like getting high
it is difficult
to love
a non-fuck-stick-human
their value
is more complex
as complicated as you are
and reliant
symbiotic
it’s a different game
in that it’s not a game
or not at least supposed to be
yet is one, to but laughter
at an unshared thought
such as yourself
bouncing off cement walls
you can’t love but the
sound of your own breath
or feel of chemicals
oozing through your
narrow veins
not corporeal but a laugh
entropic and singular
molesting the
air in
desperation
i don’t know i don’t know i don’t know
if the words to the songs wear away
if the thoughts escape and never come back
if the feelings are trains off their tracks
if it might be better
to strip off my clothes
and run naked through the streets
making a mess, not pretending
that i don’t want to make the mess
anymore
i don’t know i don’t know i don’t know
if i can build a clock
big enough
to make the seconds matter
i know they did in the past
but i still don’t give a shit now
i look into your eyes and cry
if only i knew how you felt about me
if only the whirlwind of words in every
dictionary were writing a story that i
could fucking understand
i don’t know i don’t know i don’t know
if that means that i’m failing
or winning
or if i care either way
or if i love life
or if i hate life
or if i love you
or if i hate you
i don’t know
i don’t know
i don’t know
what i do know?
is that just because you threw it away
does not mean it ceases to exist
i’m sure you’d hate me
like i hate me mrs.
brodhead
because you were always
better than me
and i was a step behind
and probably am
and all i can think
the moment i almost
touched you
among the dead
and the dying
grass of the cemetary
where i came
so close to being
better, like you
are
in radiance
mrs. brodhead
when you used to
have a different name
fresh like the fallen
snow
i’m sure you’d hate
me for my shitty
tendancies and give
more than just a nod
as i do —
mrs. brodhead
doesn’t think of that
trudging up the
mountain with
beauty all around
and inside,
too
a place where i once
dreamt of being
warm and opposite
your intellect
ever devouring
a fearful hush is felt
as a blanketed pressure
of extra gravity falls
upon the suburbs
as everyone tries to hold
the same looks on their faces
whenever the law sulks
around
but count yourself lucky
if you have forgotten about this creature
the law
who started innocently
as homework, chores
but has grown with you
now with eyes that pierce the night
like spotlights in the sky
like magic
walls can materialize around you
cold and thick
thrashing you around
the law will grab you by the neck
sudden and deadly
the law exists to traumatize
those who do not fit the mold
whose faces cannot hold long enough
when the spotlight is upon them
i must confess i still see you often
well, parts of you
that is
in other women
whom i dare not talk to
selfish
embarrassed
i feel
that i wish those parts were whole
and backwards in time
always backwards in time
like out of a cannon we would go
on fire, too
i think
if you could see me now
able to lift both feet to walk now
and quickly,
even
you would smile that
hungry smile
for a cut of meat deeply within
and i’d have no choice but to smile back
i never had that choice
