Because fuck you.

Californicate
Styro plate
empty stomach
itchy nipple hate
hate hate
irate lunch date
conflates bowel sounds with
mouth flapping dirty teeth a
brief but inexcusable
belch squelched any
penny-for-a-thought mas-
turbation the product of
colloquial conversation
regarding the heart of art the
cringing virgin tart her
private parts her
tasteless darting in some
play reviewed by an
asshole who you slept with
just to get the street cred to
pop your collar and pretend
you have girlfriends who
suck you because they love to
Jesus, you're a wrecked beach and
a mess of a bible and a drug I've
never tasted and a mother to
someone and
a
book with mold a beat a barren
fish a
spider a
mild hiding wider version of a
schoolgirl thick and thick of
ass and tits and staring fits and
fist wringing fits and gasping
fits oh asthma shit I
breathe through lists of
names of women who
have come or came
in
screaming
my name
in
birthing bed glory
xx warrior
in
pain in
His
name
in
my
beautiful
fucking
aural
migraine im-
agination lights who are
totally aliens but also
angels who hold
cryptic menus for
the last IHOP in hell in
bell-ringing exaltation
wringing fell fingers winningly
swimmingly thinking
HEY! Swell, God! Keep it up!

Because fuck you.
It's too cold in this jacket.

Father Questions

And I had communion with him, and
we both were speaking English but
I don't know his words as words
The only path to understanding him
is just to

Why?

Because the night, I
shot the moon in the
fucking eye.
Human magic animal
science joke epic.

Love did what?
Folly - we don't
understand love.

But I shot
the moon in its
fucking eye.
Now I have to
deal with that.

What Love Does

Don't fuss little cat, ride
questions fuck answer inhaling
dandelion breath staining your
fingers in the
process kiss me
I'll hurry when I'm dead, for now I
crawl glacially at your hem and you
shoe me with a scarred baseball bat but
you love me fondly; dirt is all part of
this stepping game
you want me in churchwhite with
black lips jam on my palms a book in
my hands you want me still for
your camera which is your cock and
your compass and your caved-in heart and
your fields of tomatoes with all the little
bugs in them and the smell of tobacco and
bathwater and your camera and our daughter
and a little lamb and water and a lot of hungry
grass and some sympathetic soil your camera is your
childless cunt and your evil womb but you are
still my daughter's mother
so I'll drink some water to that but
little else

AA

New dark temper steel patriot
Harriet temper feel forget blood orange
singing seal surrender silent hinder feeling
toes and toes and quarrelsome fields of
grape vine virginity tender poetry blushing
vine blushing bride blushing pining
teenage hymen seal lock vault chest
tomb tender buried Fort Knox
colloquial cock savage trap tilted
plane tilted raining heaven seven
seconds of
come into my insides trust
food
shelter
trust
music
God's loving voice
trust
a pea a
pear
a
sweet potato skin
trust
a stone soup trust
fox
trust a crystal light
till he
swears above pain and
under pain and
as
I lay smile bright
post life stiff smelling
four o nine white carbon
bated breath waiting freedom
light and paycheck drink night
party quiet inner anticipation quite
possibly the most prayed about
moment before
chemical tiny death

I mean, losing yourself to liquor
abyss

Piss yourself

Pig Skull

When are you going to boil his head Chris?
When will you stomach it?

Trailer Park

Can't spell merde without mer... Conclusion? 
Something something something, sea of shit....

Playboy Magazine

To detect erection formal
forget informal dress per-
fection sept he leapt seven
stories I crept seven syllables in
to your chest I took your
best and left ash and moldy
books a test of fortitude a nude
Odyssian quest a blessed fall
a pious ball hells hall hail his
voodoo doll hail awful silence hail
eroticism hail the Tree of Life hail
him, his heart, his wife,
Mary,
hail Mary,
full of space, she's a cave and a
trope for untrash, unabashed
virtue didn't you know...

Lick your lips
Tuck in your shirt

Maybe Also Not Zen

Be thankful for what you have,
unless that happens to be
everything.
Then want more.

Not Zen

Everything everything
all the time all the time!

I better sleep now,
before blindness steals this yes
from me, I must learn to
moderate this blood this
salivating boar

Sex, Water

Hold your water, skirt
cancer, pray hard about
those, hope you
have behaved
I stopped touching myself
because I
am a good
Christian boy
at least so the
book says, me, I just
get thirsty and
cover my bases

If left, I would
four F myself into
some sort of
grave

Some cunt that's six feet deep

Fist Fighting

Deprivation sounds like a sucking absence it
sounds like masturbation peak caught stuck in
held bliss for days of derealized vignettes that
are
boxed later and forgotten and so hold
little relevance then but hold such
skin now

Hold skin,
that's the key,
to dominate it, or
occupy or to have
its attention skin
Lucky organ, the
shell some beauty
queen gate
keeper

Or an asshole or
both

Apostle

Fortune favor some sleeping bird,
the universe will reveal itself to a
deaf mute, Gabriel
didn't have a pen on
him, or a sword,
he made
everything up then

Warm milk, stale barn air,
vacuum stall then, I whicker as
a horse, pass me, bridle hand meadow
skin as white like moon,
cradle us, cradle your grapes
until wine flows your veins love

Eat then,
sleeps the dirt

Afterlife

Vesuvius scarlet tear rip
tear jag downspiral under
hair the colour of entheogen
leaves upon tongue held tight
we hold ourselves against a
boulder and a hellhound and I
speak a glamour that
makes her drunk I
sneeze some sort of everything
and throw away the universe in
balled up
tissue
I
climb trees down
down
down
to hell and
speak nothing of
it to anyone
because
no one would ever
take me for true I'd
cry I'd cry
I'd
cry I'd
weep upon my
self for
every orc soul and

every burnt body
because
there isn't
enough room so
they just leave some
piled by the door
goddamnit

Diagnosis

What beginning to start from,
what birth is my beginning, when and how
find me here and now gaping at
infinity puffy eyed but erect sickly
Am clouds am stomach excited
atoms hyperbole arousal amphetamine
urgency collapsing into star dense
gravity

And I'm losing my language
Infinity overwhelm
Every word I know attempting to
push through my mouthchest
at once

All colours make black
All words make paralysis
Escape orgasm escape dream

Enfant Terrible

You cannot spell
Medusa without
USA,
In a dream I doused your
flowering cunt in
gasoline, I did a great
many man things,
my favourite was
fist fighting and
the bruises were
hot as hell

Diet Cola

Pull on your face, pull everything towards honesty pull to
wards some height of orgasm Rebecca pull to a shadow that speaks pull
to a dog barking or some dog that speaks pull
I'm the weakest baby of four or
am I I'm weakest or
weeks apart from miracle saviour Christ okay and
millennia but it's metaphor anyway -

Chastise a ghost - sure, but
leave me in peace and
I freeze in honest paralysis of
my own vision I
promise

I burn I
brightly burn a
candle for only
me be
cause a loving live is
a selfest living prayer and on
some diet of honey and milk and
some nourishing faith and some
terrible fish or shells and some rancid
ground I
lived I lived I slept I lived and lived and
who
who
who
would
live sleeping
consciously
who
chooses to
sleep
face in the
filth of humanity?

Terror Hunger

Forgetting Brian Jones is for
getting bones to break in a dream of
a hunger babe animal, an instinct corpus
massive everything....

Chemistry

Shitbird, I'm
too fat, I'm too thin, I'm
nothing that shoud be breathing in
this suit of tea spoons and birthday cards and
I'm some sort of lace curtain in some bloody
dream
and I'm a boiling pot of
womb fluids that soup that
makes a baby
baby
baby
baby
blue body fragile baby egg love
him precious little gift I loved him but
Chinese food laundry dog meat paper
cardboard dripping garbage lost baby lost
where lost then I
lost
liquored
lost
hair
losing my
water
wait

breathing then and stalling in mid clench I had some
fist and some skypunch in half completion then I
couldn't I could not complete in some
paralysis crux I
tensed into
excruciating leg pains and I
mind-racing hammered out some
plea bargain to some kind of
predatory saviour who would
sell us upstream for blowjobs and
handjobs and who would pull my hair and
pull my skin and who would
drink such a thick juice and love
that syrupy sort of finish and it
chokes and sort of chokes my
baby girls it

6:26am

Gentle way of the lynch mob,
cursive apologies, loopy handwritten
tearful goodbye, cross the Atlantic and
settle into your newpurchased skin,
you molted so beautifully,
congratulations,
I don't sleep now,
you sleep with men and
women in your teeth,
does anyone else feel
how much time there is?

Compromising

There are worse things than dying,

namely the sedation some require

in order to remain alive.

Beautiful

Woman, you're more skull than hair,

the thin limp hangings ruin something

in me

And it's your doing, your trying so

hard, it only

makes things worse

Some day, guaranteed,

you'll leave us such a

withered body.

8:05am

Okay Capricorn, devour

yourself

At this point

there is little else to do

Troubling

Do you think

your love is aware of you?

Manhattan In Television And Books

So the city itself cracked
that golden prince like an

egg and every slut laughed

like some throaty lizard,

smog billowed from his pockets

every day then, and his wife was never

seen or heard from again

His hair blackened deeper and

deeper after that.

All The Time

I was not was meant for this place.

These letters are a dialogue.

The Beach

I'd rather her breast in my hand than

his breath to remind me of soil and

some decayed seagull that you found

at the beach that Sunday with so

much wind around you ruining

your hair and carrying sand elsewhere

and into my throat so I couldn't

scream happily like some stupid

dog or,

Pillowy mountain chest sweet heaving

teenager I'm so sorry my white noise

and your moaning and our endless

smoking made your asthma so

difficult but we're born with

the ghost of some infinitely

tiny

death wish and in sleep we

tongue at it like a loose

tooth or

exploring masturbation and it's

terrifying but somehow it's

better than that boring

tit in your hand isn't it?

We're not supposed to drink milk

after babies and I keep thinking about

what happens after you

get everything you could possibly want

Asshole Wolf Then

Do not sleep with those you do business with.

But, everyone is business.

So, what the fuck [God]...

Tides Are Forever

In some incredibly brief two-years,

or some fleeting eternity or

abrupt infinity, or some

skull

fucking

forever that was

over before I knew any thing like

watching grass grow in a

tortured slow fast-forward

in rapturous depression whose

introspection is maniacally

essential to everything and

everything

and everything or else

what is anything good for

god damnit?

Book of

Shut your mouth when you're day dreaming woman and

cross your legs and take your hand from your wetness

and wash it and wash Him away and put your

cross back up on the wall before the flowers wilt

and don't ever confess to what's happened here

now and be lost in forgetting this accident and

maybe catch some liquored train to pounding sleep

thick like some suffocating black cloud

or kiss or silk scarf or holy tar or

some Christ parable that wraps you in

filthy love or some abstinence that

will never be sincerity or

eat a bar of soap child or fondle some photograph

laughing until your head falls off your shoulders or

share with anyone how incredibly

uncomfortable you are with your

chemistry and meat or do nothing at all until

you wrinkle and

rust into

some

beautiful peanut to be planted

in the ground to make

a sad sort of a bush that

rasps at small children and tells

fantastic litany in coal miner

voices and

it never ends

god

it never ever ends

Seven And Thirty Seven Years

And wake up as dry as a book, I

am a hat on the hook beside

and above the bedpost not far

to reach and never forgotten

for long unless you're breathing

through someone else blanketing

them with your leather and your

meat, hands fighting like dogs in

some forever confused battling

waltz whose music is gasping

intercourse and whose conductor is

an animal in your skin who let a

book seduce who let knuckles

cow you who let fingernails

mark you who let spit

scour you who let some

gull feather elevate you to

the most incredibly fleeting

nowhere until you were back

somewhere and with me

here

under a hat

breathing heavily

Love Is a Nine Letter Word

Entertain self doubt, pity fools or

pity geniuses, what is the difference

Drink deep, peacefully hold your

tongue up and out for her

I embodied something more whole

once

Now I embody vacuum, eyes

hungrily speed talking an

anxious blood-sugar

poem

Whose chapel is a

dreaming sexual violence,

His blood is my own weeping

manhood, His flesh

preserved under my fingernails my

flesh in truth,

Whose confession sounds as though

a recipe for soup, bathing bones my

liquid fat my self-loathing shudder ex-

halation fleeting prize

Glory be to balled up tissue and

some substitution for bawling, how-

ever momentary

Self orbiting Sun and Earth, twin

torment mirror spit running stain

Pale eyes virginity collect sweat

under his massive cancer

Do Not Trust Anything You Think You Trust That You Can Think

It's the fucking eighties again, and

everybody's a haircut

and a sociopath and

the biggest asshole.

Twenty Nine Hours

There's an asshole sort of sunlight that

intrudes through the cheap blinds

that attempt to cover my bed

room window, and it's

six minutes to eight a.m outside

and it's constantly a discordant

heartbeat inside, and I did not

sleep all night nor do I want to

sleep now, and I'm considering

staying awake for another full

day but I'm always nervous about my

heart.

Fuck.

Heartbeat of The 21st Century

When did I stop being able

to hear silence?

Night

I feel sick

not tired

Fuck

Some

calibration of a

sex and a food stamp

kind of loving god who

is an ugly jesus who

is

cleft lipped and

too smart for

his own good and

probably a

jew

with

his own

ideas and

his own poor money and

his family wanted some

doctor but he ran

and

he ran and you're

some kind of white

girl who

took him in and you

embraced his

whatever

and

What does it matter?

Let's

enjoy

anything

Am Many Things

Am a block of ice, am

a pear,

am a cold palm,

am coal, am

hate, am your

cousin naked under some

hot shower that makes you

stiff and sick,

am slick hair, am fruit

Am a motor vehicle

in the nineteen thirties I

am a stiff grey suit and

a

hard man

I

am jaws

and

so much

clenching

I

am

so much spite I am

so many things a

cloud

pardon me then

Some Fever

Whose caution was a lamb, whose eyelids swam with

blurred star paths until the entire night was

just a field of two five five

Whose mother had a mother,

whose bones rot now,

whose eyes fill but never re-

lease their weight

Whose story is a

bible

Whose bible is a black

heart

Who lived for a question hope-

lessly unanswerable called

art

Whose filthy skin is a guilty

landscape, whose sex is a sin

and another sin

Whose fingers work the devil's

deeds whose needs are needs and

needing, a hunger until teeth

break or fall or until a

tender female

shudders her teenage

fragility and some moment of

trance is shattered and sick

reality resumes like a

car crash until

a black glass of coffee is

thrown

You're lying awake in bed or

sitting quietly in your

doctor's office or at a red light or

in bed or you're somewhere deep

in your chest or

you're falling thousands of feet

per second in some

un

conscious horror or

you

are in some line

at some carnival in

some summertime

in

the south and

some pathetic

cliche is breathing too loud and

you're rocking and

wrenching your hands and

you're sweating

you're

sweating so

heavily

and

you have

no

idea

where you are or

how you

came

to

be there.

Sleeping Spells

When I want to hold your

hand and bury an ax

between your

breasts all in the

same breath.

And as I inhale

and you

stare,

there is this

sound like

scotch tape tearing

from its roll but there's

no sound and there's

no breathing

And then I flow

into some

other layer where

there's only pressure

on my skin and

womb sounds and

to you,

at the kitchen table, I

piss myself

but I'm

not there.

Balled Up Fists

Just so you know

I'm prone to

spontaneous bouts of

being unable to cry

for five years.

Which Is Really Just Surrender

Is this floating away a

natural symptom of my age?

A phase?

Or is this state more

permanent?

I worry that

certainty comes only

after compromise.

This Way

One day you

wake up and your hands are

hammers

Introspect,

there is no noble savage here, never was,

no I became this way.

My

My heart my

heart

my heart

r

E.P and Femme

Ezra lived during possibly the

most powerful(?) span of time and

he saw from (A)>(B) what was possibly

the

greatest of

changes in our modern age and he

wrote your name and he wrote your

poem in stone and somehow

tattooed it

on me and on

me and that you are his

Portrait and not mine and

that I shall never

own a thing and

that I shall own only a shadow of

a

shadow of a

wolf with

horrifying teeth that I

really actually love,

yes,

but

now am I lost in

every facet of

She

Art and the Universe

The volume within the vessel can never BE the vessel.

Dealing

A large part of your life is

figuring out

how to sleep at night

Burning

Felix fell icy fall
so ironically unlucky then and
unhappily do I and he pray some
kind of muted stain prayer
cover
good
god sweet christ cry love and
tear everything from himself that
he thought was dear
burn the stranger at the table
burn every foreign impulse and
sleep with the arranged
teenagers who arrive at
your his hotel room and just
surrender to the two
thousands because
this is how it works and
this is every
bone
in your decaying body and
if you sting
and
if you feel somewhat nauseous you
will be relieved of your
so cold post you
will be relieved from the wall you
will be relieved of the black you
will be relieved of oath you
will be relieved of some sort of brother-
hood and even then don't fret because
you tried he tried we tried they tried he
tried he tried he tried he

set fire

do it

go away from this place while
it's still your idea

Language

Explosions of centralized heart gestures
which is to say I'm coming a gallon of
tearful frontbrain expression which
is to say I'm punching myself incredibly
hard in the back of the neck
and lips and lips and parted little lips
girl baby
touch this vein
feel it caving in? feel it gushing some sort
of mortal sin?

exist

exist

exist

just

breathe unthinkingly
be

liquored extremely
dulled and yet rocketed to some
height of fuck

I
with teeth would
literally
tear your
throat from your
neck

I'd love it

I just came
tears

Oh...?

Handshake fuck, coordinate love with hate and
tongue in teeth lockdown spitting fast curses to
caress a body of fleshy writhing dishonesty and
manipulation which is a kind of a sex but also a
kind of a destroying or disintegration of his self and
every self and it's a hateful act and she herself is
some manifestation of a hateful sort of love and
her carbon is and was and will be in some way
imprinted with His stamp of holy disapproval which
is a big deal and speaks volumes for her
place in heaven and pity her and pity her oh
curses curse
a
skeleton fuck and a
bone structure tight-skinned face an
aesthete goddess a beauty queen corpse a
rib cage a pair of sticks for legs a
set of tits like tiny little pyramids that are
barely pyramids but speak to some
feminine
thing
of which I care very little but I
suppose
entertain just to
placate Her
and
them
women with their
wetness and
truly those who possess
the actual beauty because
men are more of some kind of
package and men
are somehow more boring or
less surprising of a creation or a
discovery in this universe of
spaces and things
But the women are this gift
this stumbled upon mystery or...

My mouth is open

I shall close it before I say too much

Because no one is paying me for this