Saturday, December 9, 2017

What

Like a soup string nickel
nimbus pillow california symbol
able bodied billow heavily over a
tender teenage tongue until I
cancer market pink pillow
california symbol
Blue ocean sunrise crystal
chalice
Blonde ambition blonde consequence
blonde on bleeding fingernail consequence
blonde on can't stop picking blonde
on can't stop chewing on my dry lip Ajit
Pai fucking anxious racing thoughts Agitated
circular thought pattern thought crime thought
obsession fixation spiral and I'm
masturbating and crying at the same time
at the speed of Twitter which is the new
standard for the passage of the thing we
try to call Time fuck Time fuck it
fuck Time fuck fuck fuck fuck
The problem with Time lately is that it
keeps going forward into an uglier present
and it makes the past look sexier or maybe
handsomer in a more chaste way like those
weird Monica Haircut 90's are suddenly
safer and more ideal because the pressure seemed less
or The End seemed more distant or
I wasn't so scared of everything costing so much

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Whatever 2, Touch It

Whatever and ever in it is and will be your
dissonant song and blood your food your
fibre your ultimate entity your skilled
weaving narrative your perfect crystal vision your
fucking rock opera masturbation crying fucking
death riding into sunset crying fucking
nothing

Whatever is, is

And whatever shall be,
is, already, somewhere,
trapped in dust and dirt in the code of the
math of time in the algorithm of His
holy unholy science
Fuck, nothing matters when I'm thirsty,
nothing matters when I need to shit,
only thirst and shitting,
but don't cry for me or anyone -
just be

Monday, July 31, 2017

Whatever

Carry me into and on top of a pile of sticks built upon a floor in the
forest and pour onto me whatever liquid you think will make this
fire better than if you didn't pour something on me and will you
sit and watch me burn with some carb-heavy pocket in your hand
dripping cheese and fucking sugar all over your shoes or will you
have the
decency to dress nicely for a funeral and write something worth
saying because the everything outside of you doesn't have time for
nothing statements and let me tell you I've been to a place
where nothing was everything you shouldn't follow in those
footsteps

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Panic Sleep

Deify the dyad,
Who will let me try at
angel anything
Whose terrible nothing is
heavier than water in your cupped hands
Kiss caress in quiver fuck in
shiver in my tiny lucky bedroom
wooden box of truth in
stories of my sister Ruth who lived
inside an upside spoof who lived
under an upside roof who gives who
gave who will amaze who lives within
a hellish maze who touches lightly for
a time who touches only once before she
plunges deep into your chest to rest to rest
to rest to rest to rest to sink to sleep to dream
alive in such a time as we can only hope to
say that we recall before we are erased by
falling water ash and fire stone I do recall my
mother's bone she laughed and took my photographs
she kept them all up on the fridge I don't recall
what's in my fridge I never do I always lie I
don't remember vegetables I only ever tell them lies I
don't drink water only black and sugar syrup heart attack
I restless find indulgent church I don't remember pride in work I
crush the holy wafer in between my fucking terror grin I
can't remember anything about a fucking anything I
read and write and hope to find a single shred of peace of mind
in stillness or in ecstacy in holy him in trinity
in him in him in him I fail to see the fabled holy grail I
count my blessings nonetheless until tomorrow panic sleep