The Compulsion To Exist

 It’s been five years since I’ve written anything. 

Who do I talk to? When do I talk? Who do I talk to? Where has that energy gone? 

Do I really have ADHD? Am I just sick of being alone with myself? 

Who do I take “it” out on? Where is it going? I have so much energy. This drive shaft drives. It pushes. It shafts. It does its job, but what job is that? What am I doing? What am I doing? What do I DO? 

This Is America - In 15 Years I Will Be Forced To Eat Human Flesh Or Starve

I want to be corporeally cool, colliding in a
tangent tantrum, intellectually old, aesthetically beautiful,
good smelling, fucking warm and I want to never smell
like formaldehyde or shit breath.

Indecent digs about her in decent digs about no table lamp
in a dark room about a paper breeze, her bees nest atop the
top most flagpole pleasing salute orgasm patriot gunshot
resolute sacrifice blind abstinence chaotic good grief stricken
re-virgin when the womb sucks back in like an emptying sink
that sucking noise ripping at your eardrums like tearing paper like
your 9 year old violently fading from reality in fast forward gutshot
patriot defecate but look at the cameras while you do it

no one can tell me why they do what they do

everyone is scared to think about it

For Everything

Corn bread colour coping cold
tea teasing tenor tennis court
conquest convert coral code of
conscious everything
Quill and tendon portal for a
tender tenor television one
and one by eighty six I couldn't
and I can't be fixed I wish upon a
burning fish I wish and wish and
scream and cough I mediocre sleep
away a panic pallid dreaming day I
want to kill a money pig  I wish to
kill a money pig I vegetate and feel the
pull of raging mother body full I sleep
until I can't be found with teeth awaiting
breathing sound I eat your enemy to bone
I sit upon their stolen throne the patriarchy
bought and sold for mountain young and
meadow gold for womb in cotton blue and
pink for prayers over the kitchen sink for
baby bright and toothless grin for
sleeping in a bed of sin for
any daughter outer space is
full upon their milky face I
sweat profuse I don't know why
I guess I guess I guess I'll die I fade
into a wall of

Future Failure Described

Monsters orate come closer into

fallow is a dirty word now

white noise nutrient brown out 

profit sex organ throbbing 

lease the future

penetrate the present gas

light the angel of any

teenage virgin just for

being irritatingly right or

obstructively right or

unprofitably right or

uncynically right or

right and not yet filled with a 

thirst for 401k performance or

an inexplicable fear of black skin or

a blindness in the direction of robots and

software capitalists

Crusty Judgement

Who waits while I tell stories of things is a big idiot eating a
pear in a plum orchard forward in time until a turn a
wingback bailor open burning leaves in the country in their
shit yard in their shit township with too many teenage pregnant
angels of the collapse of civilization because we let too many idiot
babies survive the 40 week sprint which is a beautiful image because
no fat pregnant idiot can do sprinting in their condition so the only
conclusion I can draw is that I've become mean and jagged in my
premature old age

What Of This

Rapt attack in my slack uniform of slip nothing

black veneer ripple leather lightroom liar

finish final fire file foster friendly friendzone fuck you
fighting for a fucking feeling who is fighting for a feeling 

fleeting value in conjunction feeling value in a function
of a simple sexy sentence do I mean a verbal sentence
do I mean a prison sentence
you tell me you rolled your eyes when I tried to discuss semantics
you tell me you rolled away when I tried to demand semantics 

you said fuck you fuck you when you didn't say a fucking word
when I tried to demand semantics
you said fuck you with your silence
I tried to demand semantics you tried to ignore the meaning 

so what the fuck else is there?

you obviously aren't in the meaning

or of it

or with it

or anyone 

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

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

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

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

Jessica Renting

Jessica love template breathing help digitally with
an app or an aptitude for breathing apart from digital
templates of living in Jessica's face and thoughts she's a
torn two space inhabiting slut renting too much for
too long

Leaving It Alone

What am I contributing to if at all if at vegetable all of my bush and bramble conversation
self if at all in my life and world if I can spill a thing to him or her his holy representative in
secrecy were to write my letters and pass them on even though my secrets were nothing less than
a description of the beaches near the borders of Michigan and the organ music of an old happy lesbian next to her hearth and in her old home that reminds me of a steamship god I love it....

I can't disturb this peace. I can't be myself on it, or to it. I have to be quiet and not rub off on it or I'm
sure to fuck it up.

God help us

2016

Take onto me a weight of soup and oatmeal like I'm responsible for feeding the mouths of cute
idiot children just because they're short haired boys who don't know what a cold-steel-gut feels like, the lucky little fuckers, but I'm tempted to kiss them all with an abusive sort of innocence-murdering-wisdom until they're just broken shoe-gazing parking meters and book-memorizing-automatons and do we even know what we need them for yet? Economists joke about it...

No one knows. Dead weight smokes newly legal pot and podcasts whatever sounds interesting.
It's an age of intoxicating marvel. Float on. Wonder about it. I have no idea where god went.
We killed it. Congrats.

Breathe Ativan

Congratulate her, she's a good dog with a silky coat and
good fur for a furniture sort of home sense comfort home
feeling home giving sort of warmth and love and safety and
grab rubbing you tightly until the panic overload and teeth
clenching is passed

Chubby Nothing

What with a wholly nothing gap in his every whole happening
chest of living moving flesh his being was wholly into
nothing noticeable but for a thudding sound which was an
evidence to a thick realness which was perhaps a sign of
objective maybeness but after a long night and morning of
thriller dreaming I'm bound to drink water and wonder if
anything is real at all

Familiar Smell

Halting the ark, haunted ark fuck
ark full of animal guts and fur tingling
licking clean grooming sensibility clean
sheets and conscience until I'm a sober
patriarch of cats my vacuumed floors describe a
man whose life is under a paper and pencil sort of
lock and key with rational calm sensibility and
mathematical hand grasping exercises to develop the
fist strength to crush something which is perhaps or probably
time

Love is, what happens next?

Love is an unstoppable force and
we are immovable objects.
What happens next?

Reckoning - Brock Turner

Tall talk over me aren't you a
big figure but let's settle now
that this is a game for big cocks
you little lamb baa you tender
meek little thing you who think
who would inherit what inherit
this?
The strong fuck everything in every
hole they plumb it good they fuck and fuck
and rub raw and chafe the depths of it until
her throat is cotton and the Kalahari and
the salt mine in my guilt night terror my
cockwielding worst dream my
won't go away leaked documents of
truth and that cake that chased
Hampton Pig groaning eat me eat me it'll
never leave you it'll scare the living
shit out of you it will eat
your guts and make you look at her
and

Holy Fuck Mountain

Holy fuck mountain
I've seen it
I've tasted the air that
rubbed it's shoulders and
tumbled down it's back,
there were so many cats at the
foot of holy fuck mountain, milling
about, looking for milk and biscuits,
or maybe a few mothers to nuzzle
into and lick them, they chirp like idiots,
they don't know anything, I'll build a fire
and wait and watch and roll a cigarette and
sing a song I taught myself from a book of
hymns about him and his holy fuck mountain
I'll build a church here some day maybe, there's
a stream nearby, cold water and fish and sometimes
a bear comes to take what he can catch to fill his belly
for so much sleeping and all the bear business on the
mountain that needs a full belly, it's a hell, being a bear
with an empty belly, no bear told me that, I've just watched,
and listened - holy fuck mountain talks if you're quiet and if you
listen just right and if you don't interrupt with any chewing or
hollering or any kind of plan making, it's not a dignified way to
treat your holy fuck mountain
it's important to love it
to love her
quietly

Sore throat sore penny thoughts repeated
repeatedly until sore in your throwaway head
sore indirectly by way of grass and trees or the
lack thereof replaced with couch and liquid plastic
life of a mouth with a dick and a wallet
plant your hand on your heart and buy what
they tell you
trust everyone so trust no one
sore throat killing me
choking on airwaves

Torch or Sleep

Torch illuminate to cave three days
companion night to days in drink in wine in sadness
so great and so cheap that your bed becomes a grave
place six feet deep and three pillows wide until
a mouth in the earth consumes you and
a worm tongue licks you and your
passion for science and women's
rights doesn't matter and only
sleeping more matters only
sleeping as much as possible matters
you sinking fuck you heavy weightless
sinking rock you
stone
you burying root you cloud you didn't write a letter or
touch your mother's skin goodbye you
took your pills and drank good wine and
caressed the neck of your guitar for a moment and laid down and
closed your eyes and looked at the ceiling and
big goodnight so I goodbye

Whose Flag Bleeds

Corrupt I hello inside hello try abruptly to swell with an
unsick pride yellow monologue coffee table
dye and in some chest swell vocal fry bleeding American book of
negro blue patriot blue industry blue patriot blue computer
false who in true zero zero one one oh to be
two to be one too amongst the many is
just another accomplishment of the
entitled which is no accomplishment then sick
sad
asshole dreaming patriot

If This Then I

Awake again!
To see to write to breathe exhale a big nasty puff of invisible unsee
blue less dense than water more dense than nothing about the
same density as soul but dumber breath
is and will always be
in out in out in out
giving me a tylenol giving me a chest ache like caving hunger from
stem to stern or my
third eye to my asshole
nothing is sacred
Awake again!
Drink deep to awake from a long sleepy dust sleep not
a word or peeping fuck from you as you and we
our hands on mouths and pull hair and dig into each
other and bite until our bleeding lips are flags for
the hate in love and love and love as old as dirt
dirt dirt dirt rose dirt rose tomato bean and
dirt and rabbit skin dirt bird bone dirt the collar around your
neck dirt the money in your pocket dirt the book you read in
dirt the love your church in dirt the promises you keep to
dirt the bitter sweet my dirt my loving faithful baby dirt
my honest loyal dirt who dirt when dirt the why the dirt

The passage of time is a pile of black earthy shit from which you
emerged unto which you will return the passage of time is
a sexy quiet song in the first and last bath you took and
dirt is the only covenant and the only evidence of Him
so lay down and breathe and be awake and just let Him happen to you.

Twinkly Sounds Aggressively In Bed Distrust Your Personal Computer

Kill it kill it with fire kill it kill it with fire
Kill it kill it with fire kill it kill it with fire
Kill it kill it with fire kill it kill it with fire
Kill it kill it with fire kill it kill it with fire
Kill it kill it with fire kill it kill it with fire
Kill it kill it with fire kill it kill it with fire
Machine machine liar liar machine with fire kill it
Kill it with fire machine his head machine
Kill it with fire

Wake up tired in bed every morning for twenty or thirty years straight before you
just stop sleeping at all and become the computer

How Many Times Will This Go Around

What isn't the meaning of life if not if to mean
yourself into a less unreal dream than your currently
unrealer dream which is a fucked up scheme of
math and plans and finger paint across His sky and canvas
of your skin and bone and brain and snake fuck gut whose
teeth or fangs are hook assholes digging into who
in fuck knows what

the truest thing I've ever heard is that 'there's
too much confusion' I absurd speak twenty million lives into her
and she kills all of them with modern magic and I literally
don't know what the point is because we made a joke of Maslow or
maybe Maslow just is a joke or we got to such a point to recognize His
relativity is relevant only as far as we invent in moments of not-seeing
deeper greater bigger everythingsmy eyes and ears and my nostrils and
finger skin and my mouth clearly aren't big enough clearly not
enough and ever will be

I Can Travel Infinite Distances In Outer Space Because I Can Think It It's Really Quite Easy

When I didn't die, I bought a penny flower for her and
wrote about a book I once wrote about,
I fell in a dream and when I tumbled I awoke and
fell out of bed and I thought dear christ that's
an odd sort of language
I'm near tears almost constantly,
I feel and feel and I suck in air like it's food and
I can't get full enough and I can't fill all of the space inside
which is most definitely bigger than outside and I want to
fuck and eat everything all of the time because
black holes are the new black

Loops

His desire to see her depends solely on which side of orgasm he's on

a man is a fairly disgusting thing

to be a man is a fairly disgusting thing

So -

Gentle peasant opiating,
his lisping universe titters limp insights and platitudes about fucking slowly and loving long and hard.
Never mind reflection, you can't DO anything with truths -
the cause of all problems is solutions, so,
sleep on everything, literally all of the time,
sleep on everything

Late Capitalism, but Probably Actually Always (Probably)

Them,
breathers, greedily breathing,
everything is hunger and eating and shitting and sleeping and
working for food to eat and shit more and appease the
holiness of Doing which is such a sad thing because
Being is so much better but says who anymore?
The knowers extincted themselves or were made away by
the success of "humans feeding themselves"
capital H capital F capital T

From Nothing

Appeal appear I didn't eat an apple
I hold a box over my face and nude speak
a moon of stories to it
I ate cold beef for the father
I hugged my mother
I ate my sister
I hugged my brother
I ate everything else then under the spell of everything and
blessed her young body in the warm light of his
enduring thoughts and put my hands together and felt myself and
felt him and touched forgetting which is a stranger's language
and the infinite source of knowing anything from the start

Colony correspond collide correlate copulate conduit covariant combination of combatant states of inarticulate materials in a pond of penitent pleasantries. 

Pale pale face moony moon boy male martyr mantle piece pardons in sickle cells of conflict of injury of insult of asshole abolition of antic incidence inside an

irritant applied aptly through the use of canine caprice I am a cross I am a correlated concept for kink in kink in her summer dress in her closet fuck in his in my 

in sister time pleasant fuck in a book in a blue indigo diesel truck trucking down the dirt roads of earnest fuck farmers whose gap teeth are a flag for 

earnest billings I Earnest Billingsley didn’t know the difference between a passionate cornrow and an ignorant dreadlock until I deadlocked with my 

motives for fighting with my lover while she tapped aggressively on the LCD of some thin brick that wore on her like the One Ring and dug plow tracks in 

her soul and I hate it I hate it I hate the buzz like a buzzcock in sureness I come with all my fury on her tits but I still hate her phone but it’s the most honest and 

earnest and double standard hate of a weak human I could muster so no worries babe just forgive …. or ignore….

this isn’t significant. 

I’m a crazy person…

Too Fast Blink It's Over

God you've got hot breath you
are a tiny painting kinda girl in
stupid little boots but I buy you
drinks and hope to hope that our conversation isn't
the worst and that I won't hate myself for
fucking you deeper than anyone else for
a little while
Broccoli salad the next day does not work to
balance the scales and neither does reading one
hundred pages of my book there's no
penance for it no punishment because it
was a punishment itself

Coming is too fast

Real Life Fresh Cut Flowers

Perhaps it's the getting that is like
telling me a hot note and so tell me
the quickening in your thighs is the
only heat you feel for tea and
conversation about books or some
new poem you found in some
third floor bookstore book that
smelled like must and mites and old
wood and sliding ladder grease and there
was surely some elbow patch yellow
patchouli gradschool cock treading water
nearby trying not to grab himself right
there in the narrow aisles between the shelves
between the shelves
between the shelves between the
sheets I've come so many lives and
so many days to know the real
story about you in real
life don't
ruin it now

Church

Who would be the one to be the oneself I
cough into a crook and don't spread my
self to others I won't pool out and wet them with
but then I twist into myself and drink or
excavate and purge and bear the weight but they
all suck like breathers greedily breathing
because they were born to believe in their
Jesus and his gifts but I don't want to be a downer
and tell them their moms and dads were filling them
with horse shit

His Name

his holy ghost his hand and most of most his
toddle boyface poem laughter tearplay and my
trying to understand the life outside of me while trying to
make context from the life that traps me inside snakes and
coil discomfort penduluming into sleeping or
whatever
A lot of thoughts just dead-end
I don't know.
Why...
Project your vacuum of feel

That is the great telling of you

Christopher

Projects his vacuum of feel

Prayer

Fuck

I'm Tired

While the great unknowing barrelled on I
tensed and coiled with all of my being to
either die or begin knowing more
I struggled with what is the point I
deeply and profoundly wanted to just
die
I'm tired of war

Our Best Effort

Believing our art of space is deeply about a
heart in place a home a nettle dog a bone a
child finding she bleeds and saying 'now
I'm a woman' with a mouth of giving and
eyes for eating the earth within my earth
within my sleep within my beating tit
within a pear within a pitted peach upon the
peak of reason whose despair he will despise a
tired fire lazy warming crazy liar moonface angel
bright bright bright Jupiter of Pisces fuck
of that beating tit of that broken head of that beating
tit of that spoken said of that tongue of that wine of
his of his of mine of Joseph Israel white
Palestine of Egypt's Moses anger and the
forgetness of Samuel the River founding
fever for his brothers our
fever for guns and guns and guns and
mothers
I will have these blistering nightdreams that fade into
nothing forever and they will never stop and I will
never stop and there is only the frantic recording of
what I call history to try and make do

Daisuke Failing

Daisuke in the dancehall
told me his secret he
felt a queer warmness for
a tight handshake and eating
meat with his best friend of
fifteen years but he didn't know it
and Daisuke
didn't have the courage or the
gunpowder or a big
cock and so like a laughing dog he
pissed himself into a wind and
moved on with his
master's leash around him
Poor idiot

Still Human

Who planted corn rows in heads of dozing
angel children baby brights to laugh
and scream their dog stupid laughter in the
arms of cabbage nights whose moon is a
nightlight for scaring off the terrors with their
teeth held tight who
might plant a row of tobacco around each perimeter
because those ghosts are still human

Higher Laws

I ate a dog's heart in front of a great number of people for
the strict purpose of discovering in myself a limit
to storytelling and appetite I
didn't like much of myself after but
the dog looked incredible

It's Been Four Years

I wore its animal skin to cover my dark I
bruise easy I am stains above my stains my
knees have pains from praying for Him ob-
sessively I call it
faithfully I
want him to know that I'll bleed any time
he asks I'll give any son for him I'll
any ask I'll give
all the breaths left from now to
rapture to taste just a moment's
enjoyment of a thing any
thing any smile from my mouth to
Mom's mouth or Her mouth she's
a shovel and a club for ruining
humans just by her being she
devours some fools in her
in her
in her

Need

I became against a yellow wall I
saw a tiger of eye trust who took
London streets to trust a good feeling
who is chronically waiting
for unsad or fixing
please
God please

I'm nothing but stomach anymore

Still Waiting

I spent the time
I was a dog for time and
waves and sands of
Jennifer wisdom of
the dullest narrative until
a

Loud

What if the difference between things
was determined by headphones
between the understanding of the
intention and atmosphere

Incorrect Truths

There's a face I'm looking for
the face is everything it seems
over time I become more aware of this
or shift between awarenesses
perhaps sometimes I forget

it's all about the face,
love
as if the image contains
everything else that I need

Erotic Art

I spend time thinking about the

erotic and the grotesque and dreams of

such like fingertips pushing in eye socket like

deep penetration oh moaning prayer morning caress pulling

hair and remembering spitting in her face and her appreciating 

it and thanking you and telling her thanks to your pillows and your

mattress

A Dead Bird

I look at you often and
always fall into your mouth like
it's some fowler's snare to
snatch me and hold me to wait for
hands to snap my neck and
pluck my feathers because
you've always known how to
make me naked or basic or
immediately present

Daisuke Leaves Flowers On The Floor

Daisuke left white flowers on the floor,

placed her panties on a wooden chair

beside the door,

she came to bed and told me to

go to hell, that she would never

love me

The water glass on the night stand

beside her is always cold on
summer nights and even when

the furnace is breathing heavily 

in the middle of winter

Daisuke left white flowers beside

a picture frame on the dresser,

she never cries for our dead cat 

Sophie

Daisuke sways in the wind like a

north tree when I leave her alone

She prefers her own company

She is a quiet genius, I believe

Sorry/Not Sorry, or Ambivalence

The failing of us is that "Sorry" is the in-theory, an academic study, and
"Not Sorry" is our practical, and applied science.

Medication

I have been paralyzed lately by extreme fatigue.
I am exhausted constantly.
Everywhere but inside.