Before the yeast rises run, before the least of my
sizes runs a hole through with the sun,
before the halo in my gun plows holes in
my chest, before my best love rest another
above and inside a rabbit face breast.
Your fascist love some anti resevoir,
shackle me to your rib cage walls and
flay me with your thrice cursed horse hair
whip, cemetery tattoo shovel cunt criticize me me me me me
dig
dig deep before I sober, before I over
over come some pillow on some bed some
straw that held my head my neck my shoulders and
every dead part under that
That
That which,
dumped a cat corpse before a beehive and
sighing resigned itself to forgiveness and
cigarette smoke and the glory of being
an alive being when there are these not
alive beings and in some concrete
admissions and in worms and in
sheepish dicking and in low low
grass and in drink and in deepthink and in
tearful jerkoff and in shaking hunger and in
spiral bliss and in the most cinematic suffering I
am alive I am
alive
I am
alive
Friday, November 23, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
North America America Has Stomach Cancer
Slow decadent suicide is the inevitable end to any life of plenty lived without a deep and conscious connection to the greater forces of existence.
Modern secularism has failed to fill the hole in the human spirit that mass religious belief once did - why has environmentalism and some kind of profound, universal astrophysical science-religion (based in truth not mythology and dogma) not caught on?
Perhaps because "to survive healthily" is no longer the priority - we reached that, it's already achieved, and now "to constantly be stimulating our guts" is the evolved cultural M.O.
So I come back to slow decadent suicide...
Sunday, November 11, 2012
The North America America
... and we're all these
sort of
participants in such
beautiful
collective lies
lies
ro-
mantic fables
of
sort of
participants in such
beautiful
collective lies
lies
ro-
mantic fables
of
Monday, November 5, 2012
Fuck
I couldn't come if all the whores in
Lebanon wrote all the
things I'm too afraid to say and
their lips were so full and
ready.
Who masturbates twice at
work today, dirty hands that
get handshook after, nine
to five nine to five nine
to five
nine
to five
pussy juices
handshake
nine to five thick
bodily nine
to five her
feminine
her
factory body her
egg plant
body is a
sex plunder begging
for fuck and
fucking fuck and
some anti chastity backhand to
the face in some hot pent up
moment of
His gut fury and her sweat smells and
some shared golden ball that is the
center of the universe between the
legs.
Lebanon wrote all the
things I'm too afraid to say and
their lips were so full and
ready.
Who masturbates twice at
work today, dirty hands that
get handshook after, nine
to five nine to five nine
to five
nine
to five
pussy juices
handshake
nine to five thick
bodily nine
to five her
feminine
her
factory body her
egg plant
body is a
sex plunder begging
for fuck and
fucking fuck and
some anti chastity backhand to
the face in some hot pent up
moment of
His gut fury and her sweat smells and
some shared golden ball that is the
center of the universe between the
legs.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Time Approaches
I will be your modest doll I will
be your false priest I
will be
your
holy ghost I will
be your tender nestling
gloved forgiveness I
will be your New York City I
will be
your
Sally Mann child I
will be a blueberry I
will be a
tourniquet I
will be every liquor I
will be
cadence I
will be total and
whole I will be
some desert packdog spotted
fuck
I will be everything
I will be
every
thing
be your false priest I
will be
your
holy ghost I will
be your tender nestling
gloved forgiveness I
will be your New York City I
will be
your
Sally Mann child I
will be a blueberry I
will be a
tourniquet I
will be every liquor I
will be
cadence I
will be total and
whole I will be
some desert packdog spotted
fuck
I will be everything
I will be
every
thing
Tight Breath
Deeply, profoundly struck with how incredibly unoriginal 99% of my experiences are. Anecdotally, perhaps not so, but thematically...
This fucking Earth.
Tribes
Warpaint palms downturned to drop ash and
some bloody trickle to the
Earth in some form of a
prayer to
Her to
say a thank-you and a
we'll always love you and then
dance and dance and always the night
dance and
I held an elk bone and it
contained the
sum total of
my people's history in cal-
cium and marrow and
also a wood be-
cause we all have
wooden bones around here and
hush because we wouldn't want
the
wolves to know that or
* * *
Soon after the baby boy was
conceived beside some
ageless river
some bloody trickle to the
Earth in some form of a
prayer to
Her to
say a thank-you and a
we'll always love you and then
dance and dance and always the night
dance and
I held an elk bone and it
contained the
sum total of
my people's history in cal-
cium and marrow and
also a wood be-
cause we all have
wooden bones around here and
hush because we wouldn't want
the
wolves to know that or
* * *
Soon after the baby boy was
conceived beside some
ageless river
Friday, October 12, 2012
Soprano
Woman found dead in
elevator, it's a
sad sad sad
Earth to be a bear in some
brawl to be a snail drunk on
some heart or some tune in the
back of His holy throat.
Who drinks His wine and
crosses three facets and who
eats fish on Sunday.
This Earth.
It's a hell of a thing.
My milk is too warm now I
can't take it, can't take a
baby girl in my arms as some
single father, she needed me, I
adopted her in some dream and
named her Francesca for
her dark young shadow who
beautifully left us too soon.
(I wasn't even born yet)
But who the fuck was she even?
One of too many to count. Another
face.
Another pair of lungs, a
heart, a pair of hands, the same,
the same the same as
us.
But different.
No matter how many
cans of beer I open, I
don't like us any more.
But there's always
more letters
to write.
elevator, it's a
sad sad sad
Earth to be a bear in some
brawl to be a snail drunk on
some heart or some tune in the
back of His holy throat.
Who drinks His wine and
crosses three facets and who
eats fish on Sunday.
This Earth.
It's a hell of a thing.
My milk is too warm now I
can't take it, can't take a
baby girl in my arms as some
single father, she needed me, I
adopted her in some dream and
named her Francesca for
her dark young shadow who
beautifully left us too soon.
(I wasn't even born yet)
But who the fuck was she even?
One of too many to count. Another
face.
Another pair of lungs, a
heart, a pair of hands, the same,
the same the same as
us.
But different.
No matter how many
cans of beer I open, I
don't like us any more.
But there's always
more letters
to write.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Chest Pain
Pitter patter hyperpanic,
the sad Atlantic gushes,
more used Kleenex,
her makeup smears,
I have to get out of there,
she offers grapefruit,
I tell a story,
she begins to cry,
I turn into a cloud of smoke.
the sad Atlantic gushes,
more used Kleenex,
her makeup smears,
I have to get out of there,
she offers grapefruit,
I tell a story,
she begins to cry,
I turn into a cloud of smoke.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Anna
Princess with a face like a lion backlit banjo
holding everyone in the dark in
some held breath an-
ticipation and I
clutch the
program and I go back
six years to the few nights I
snuck into your crawlspace in
that barnstructure in
the
driveway and you gave me
Suzanne for the first time and I
was fucking
newborn
in those hour long seconds and
finally innocent to something for
once
holding everyone in the dark in
some held breath an-
ticipation and I
clutch the
program and I go back
six years to the few nights I
snuck into your crawlspace in
that barnstructure in
the
driveway and you gave me
Suzanne for the first time and I
was fucking
newborn
in those hour long seconds and
finally innocent to something for
once
Guilt Stomach
I am a dark fuck, I
awoke in a bed, noir
sharp light through blade
slits on the bed room and
I woke next to a form of
lies and tanglement of ma-
nipulations of her
trust of
her
fragile nature, like a delicate or
brittle twig near dead and dry
branch,
no olive leaf, no
happy ending for her
or me or
me
awoke in a bed, noir
sharp light through blade
slits on the bed room and
I woke next to a form of
lies and tanglement of ma-
nipulations of her
trust of
her
fragile nature, like a delicate or
brittle twig near dead and dry
branch,
no olive leaf, no
happy ending for her
or me or
me
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Needing To Die, So Bad
I found you passed out
in a pile of dry roasted mixed nuts
and I was embarrassed for you because
you were not yet awake enough to be
embarrassed appropriately and when you
finally had some sort of
dry, rocky sort of vomiting and you
could contemplate the gravity of your
foolishness and you felt really,
truly
pathetic is
when I pulled a handgun from my
pants and
shot you
in the face
You ended then and the story didn't really
change much.
in a pile of dry roasted mixed nuts
and I was embarrassed for you because
you were not yet awake enough to be
embarrassed appropriately and when you
finally had some sort of
dry, rocky sort of vomiting and you
could contemplate the gravity of your
foolishness and you felt really,
truly
pathetic is
when I pulled a handgun from my
pants and
shot you
in the face
You ended then and the story didn't really
change much.
Exhale Exhale Politic I'm Trying To Get It?
White noise, a crisp air, a sodden face and
many faces more rigid,
pervert glasses,
contemporary unease, some wringing of
fingers,
politic tender neck
sleeze detector,
argon prostitute lecture rhetoric,
dick dick underwire liberation diseases of
angry fist angry mouth angry stomach angry
pelican so
many balled up socks so many locks on
sensibility
many faces more rigid,
pervert glasses,
contemporary unease, some wringing of
fingers,
politic tender neck
sleeze detector,
argon prostitute lecture rhetoric,
dick dick underwire liberation diseases of
angry fist angry mouth angry stomach angry
pelican so
many balled up socks so many locks on
sensibility
Man Gun
Romanticize some sort of
Man Gun holy union whose
intercourse
ends in the
ejaculation of
bullets and thus
death and
what do we really
have or learn but
that Men
Love
their fucking
handguns
too much and
nothing
else.
It's some poem that
doesn't mean
anything.
Man Gun holy union whose
intercourse
ends in the
ejaculation of
bullets and thus
death and
what do we really
have or learn but
that Men
Love
their fucking
handguns
too much and
nothing
else.
It's some poem that
doesn't mean
anything.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Turtle
Who will wait a
cloud aggregated a limited
inflate a bower a fate a vining skinny
ceremony words of breast targeted poems of
words of words of words of droning masturbate
Corrupt a childing swingset mate a drinking
hollow safe sound bottle top of some world some
peak some risk of some tattoo some
dream
Some superficial tattoo,
some waffle,
some claxon sound some temporary teenage
barfing some pint of passing love some
desire to choke a self
done, bye bye
cloud aggregated a limited
inflate a bower a fate a vining skinny
ceremony words of breast targeted poems of
words of words of words of droning masturbate
Corrupt a childing swingset mate a drinking
hollow safe sound bottle top of some world some
peak some risk of some tattoo some
dream
Some superficial tattoo,
some waffle,
some claxon sound some temporary teenage
barfing some pint of passing love some
desire to choke a self
done, bye bye
Monday, September 17, 2012
Play
Pose opposable throws total unknowable bros whose
foes are flows of hydro potable prose
Ten toes ten centric third eye crows whose
Knows are greater than the square of no's
whose fingers close upon the hose of hoes whose
blows bestow atomic O's
foes are flows of hydro potable prose
Ten toes ten centric third eye crows whose
Knows are greater than the square of no's
whose fingers close upon the hose of hoes whose
blows bestow atomic O's
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
Leslie
Some graveyard full of life and
some kiss full of so many nothings,
clasping irons, clasping laws baby
caught in my will to
hold a giant landscape and
a language of life and
experience,
bring me to life,
to something other than alcohol,
gasp gasp gasp gasp gasp longing sighing
lover baby exhalation air
there's a blue moon over this letter,
love me still,
love a fruit tree that was planted we took we
take we carved our names in every inch and
for the sake of
Him.
But for the overwhelm of living.
some kiss full of so many nothings,
clasping irons, clasping laws baby
caught in my will to
hold a giant landscape and
a language of life and
experience,
bring me to life,
to something other than alcohol,
gasp gasp gasp gasp gasp longing sighing
lover baby exhalation air
there's a blue moon over this letter,
love me still,
love a fruit tree that was planted we took we
take we carved our names in every inch and
for the sake of
Him.
But for the overwhelm of living.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
072912 2:09am
Don't be picky,
let things happen,
you'll come in your pants when you
see that girl with the
eyeliner
smeared all over her and
you'll breathe a different kind of
air for the first time in a year or three years and
some page will be turned.
let things happen,
you'll come in your pants when you
see that girl with the
eyeliner
smeared all over her and
you'll breathe a different kind of
air for the first time in a year or three years and
some page will be turned.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
A Prayer Before Sleep
I must remember that I am an instrument of art -
art is not an instrument of vanity.
art is not an instrument of vanity.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
R. Cairns Female Every Maybe
Excellent silk, page turner breast skin
let me in to sheets of everything
You cling to my ribs like a
honey bee sings my sizes be-
cause he knows me he
knows every
everything
And I love you, through
all this hateful intimacy,
my blind hunger and your
rampant mistrust of
every
thing every
thing
let me in to sheets of everything
You cling to my ribs like a
honey bee sings my sizes be-
cause he knows me he
knows every
everything
And I love you, through
all this hateful intimacy,
my blind hunger and your
rampant mistrust of
every
thing every
thing
Friday, May 18, 2012
Church Curses
Like I'm some queer with
my breadbasket arms open legs
spread bleeding from a gash I
dreamed in derealized
minutes
how many minutes
I dreamed myself a
man not a man
I was a woman
tearing at herself, trying
to amputate the eucharist
she was force fed as a
boy
Pubic hair
bread
wine
feathers
a tail fallen off
some ewer that lusts after
full milky tits in violent
jealousy loathing its self
safe boring existence as
a vessel for dumb tropes
What congregation is this
my breadbasket arms open legs
spread bleeding from a gash I
dreamed in derealized
minutes
how many minutes
I dreamed myself a
man not a man
I was a woman
tearing at herself, trying
to amputate the eucharist
she was force fed as a
boy
Pubic hair
bread
wine
feathers
a tail fallen off
some ewer that lusts after
full milky tits in violent
jealousy loathing its self
safe boring existence as
a vessel for dumb tropes
What congregation is this
Thursday, May 17, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
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
we both were speaking English but
I don't know his words as words
The only path to understanding him
is just to
Friday, May 11, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
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
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
Saturday, April 28, 2012
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
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
Friday, April 27, 2012
Trailer Park
Can't spell merde without mer... Conclusion?
Something something something, sea of shit....
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
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.
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
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
Monday, April 16, 2012
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
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
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
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
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
Sunday, April 15, 2012
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
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
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
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
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?
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....
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
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
Saturday, March 10, 2012
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?
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?
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Compromising
There are worse things than dying,
namely the sedation some require
in order to remain alive.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
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.
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