deconstructing the building and building the deconstruction.
make a man to unmake himself back to dirt.
if you travel back in time youd immediately travel to a time before you traveled back in time bringing you right back to the present...this is how to travel forward in time.
if you dig a hole the same shape as you and lay in it, what will you be laying in?
i can try to make anything a paradox. but maybe everything is not a paradox...a 4year old girl with a grey plastic bag on her head will one day die.


maybes are the only thing that we can accomplish, maybe.
robots have their own world wide web.. do they have their own face book?
"my beepbeep went boopboop today"
"getchyo beepbeep outta my beepbeep boopboop!!"
"my connection is current"
"my current is connected"
"buzz lightyears gay"

It was a manta ray. Or a horned man. Spitting a jellyfish through a portal in it's mouth. Out into the mouth of a turtle. Which grew backwards into a being, and the moon was the pearl set into the chest of this demigod hovering above me.

.                        .i will die
                    .i will die today
                .i will die tomorrow
      .i will die every day after that for the rest of my *******.....

empire is a word and i will build one with them one day.

the dryer
is screaming.
its teeth
are gleaming
red.

the washer
is dead.

people on this website confuse the very much out of me.
you probably assume that you are like me and you are not one of them, but you probably are.
you probably give yourself too much credit. ive almost stopped. it must come with age. or maybe i was just born to ware out soon. you guys will still be going strong when EVERYTHING goes green. im sifting through the crumbs of industrial revolutions. getting high on the fumes of my own apocalypse. its like this: all you have to do in this life is set a few birds free. not even save em. just go to the store and buy a few gray-blue birds, regular birds, and take em outside, and set em free. after that you dont need to be right by anyone in this world. youve done your part. those birds are out there, makin baby birds makin baby baby birds, long after your good and gone, god rest everyones soul. those birds and baby birds are out there planting trees and ****. keeping the balance. and you can sit around and pleasure yourself or off yourself or whatever your heart decides.

useless objects purchased
by sexless people.
objects they make love to
the only way they know how.
they bring neighbors
and ****** are spilled
from under dressing room doors
onto shoes designed for
this sort of marathon.

your new blouse: ******
your bracelet: true love

pharamone spray
in bottles smells
like commercials
selling eternal youth
and animal lust
which your body
used to sweat
onto a mattress
with no sheets
in an apartment
with no power.

a dead centipede
is curled up
at the foot of the door
of her apartment.
it was waiting to be let in to love her.
it is waiting to be let in.

it is a small smile on the floor.
a frown at the door.

tripping in a cemetary
having almost conversations
with ducks.

these ducks are somethin else
i tell you what.

all i have is water.
and here comes mr.iguana.

OH NO!!
ibis dont mind,
and i might be getting carried away by ants right now.

gotta go.

a hellish hunger frozen over
icecicles for teeth im sober
like chewing rocks as i get older
one day it will be over.

life is a 2D four-leaf-clover
theres nothing when you turn it over
one day it will be over.

the devil died and came back
to build houses on my shoulder
rocking chair on front porch
creaking cracks til black
is what the snow turned.
there was death
in every breath
i ever told her.

lets all do some synthetic drugs.
then give eachother
some synthetic hugs.
then get real violent.

when the blind
fall in love
with the beautiful.

one day youll look in your heart
and youll see everyone.

its pointless to talk to them
when theyre drunk.
unless youre drunker.
listening to them is like
breathing in their farts
their automobile exhaust
their skin particles
celebrating their
weddings
promotions
birthdays
which celebrate
their sloppy
lives
minds
speeches
quips
haircuts
shirts
success
inconsi­deration
debt to
society
humanity
love
life
everything
except
for
them.

ill remove all the small bones from inside your hand
and piece them together back into a spider to infest my house
and lay its eggs in my skull.
getting fat on my grey matter, massaging my soul.

i can see
through your clothes
through your skin.

youre a dancing skeleton.

held together with
muscles of the heart.

sliding into my psyche;
youre an apparition

leaving glass fingerprints
all over my kissing skull
as we shatter into people.

love spoke centuries
about our names

a sound only bouncing between us
now that weve met;

making our shapes
and making them mouths
to speak our own sounds
to eachother.

elegant are angels,
but devils too.

shoulders are not patrons,
and not ears.

and the mind is but a gateway;

to the soul
the crucible
lives its course
and shaves the body
of its life
and of its skin.

dust is made
from the petals.

a mess is made
of the floor.

a trail is made;
it is heaven.
it is war.

A broken mind can't fix a broken mind...
I dare you to try to find..
a good way out..


Paint the walls in dead..
paint the walls in flesh.
Die to give new breath..

the painted wall it covers me...
I'm left to be shed...

there is nothing left for a person like me because i dont feed on the privileged or the stupid.
and i dont move mountains but the privileged pay for that and the stupid do for pay.
my payoff is always cynicism and poor habits and debt.
a gun would pay for itself 3-fold on day 1.
all im really missing is a gun.
but i need one to get one.

They make makeup
For faces
That aren't mine
In the mirror
That I'm cleaning
When they're done...

I clean their toiletts
And the tile they walk on too.

If I were any less low
I'd lick their shoes.

Growing bored and beard hair
Since I don't care.

It's a massive distance around us
But at least we never curse and cuss.

Am I always confused
Or am I always just

Like the animal
Living inside of me
No not the spirit
But the old man that was

Befooooore
I was booooorn
The one that brought me here
With his dear?

These things don't write themselves. Somebody has to build the machine that spits it all out. Relentlessly. Forever. A whole country standing in line to build a story they never have time to read. We're all slaves in this one. The dead leading the dead.

last night, my girlfriend had a dream that all the rich people got together and gave all the poor countries of the world rich soil to grow their crops. i had a dream i was doing something dimensional with my mind. the sad thing is, its totally possible. i guess i cant say i dont know where to begin.
i know where to begin.

declaring the great war then winning while losing.
the perfect man sits down, with the wacko, and discovers:
im too perfect to understand this guys ineptitudes.
and thinks and equates and considers then concludes:
i am the perfect one, i should be the only one..
but then becomes lonely and sad and crippled,
and just needs a hand to hold, or to end him.
..keep trying

im coming back down
to the ground.

this where i belong.

i wrote this dream in a song.

no.

im never coming down
to the ground.

this is where i belong.

of all my prized possessions
that ive earned
ive earned them not as much as when i
give them away.

words have no soul
but they speak to me

the train trudges by
without meaning
speaking of its street art
in a digital tongue

“we fight as a team which i leave."

insatiable and
eating my way
back into my egg

walk in
**** the chef
cook him up
and eat him.

dismantle my mandible bone
blood and stone
concrete leaks from my cheeks
when i speak

an egg shell lays broken
in my skull.
and a chameleon
melts its colors
into music there.
shedding roots
down to my
fingertips
playing love
on your
lower back
while you sing
worldless sweat
into my neck
where i keep
your name.

the egg is cooking in my heart.

bartram viscarpratoria.
meldienn te le'an
de aas arfrentenmia.

frey ah deranmos.

tor toranmiasenkredermonoto kri.

chass ta lasanma toro.

toro toro.

shas ve ter
toro toro.

I'd rather be alone in the woods
Starving and dying

a madness of zombies
ran through my dream
while i lay there.

i walk my hands
around the table
or on the floor
and watch them become friends.

and ill watch them fall in love.

and ill watch them get into fights
and they wont talk to eachother
for weeks.

and in that time
i cant eat.
i cant sleep.

i wake up from dreaming you saying
ill love you tomorrow
and everyday after that

i wake up and wonder
what you're dreaming

a skeleton with no bones
dances everywhere
silent letters for teeth
with no talking
its breath in a bag
blowing past the front door
of an abandoned building
with no floor.
a rat trap snapping on a rats back
is percussion.
a dead rat is friend to talk to.
Hunger is invited to an empty table.
the cracks in the paint
scratch and claw up the wall.
the walls excuse
themselves from the room.

the applause of a silent audience
is the stage
filling in the performers tomb.

ahummingbirdlodged
initsthroatchokingit -
laughingandsinginganddying

clappingandhappyandfull
are the people so
dreadfulaheadfullofhorrorandhell

a walking asian ***-doll walked into my night.
she didn't see the the stains on me
but i saw the stains on her.

if you have a glow of light on youre face
you're a witch.
an ignis fatum is a spirit
trying to share your body.
a kahuna speaks to other worlds
and can show you
in a bowl of liquid.
if you have the technology
and you have the good intentions
it can be fixed.
but all the progress is dogma.

-i feel better.
like a person.
i think.

-you think?

-i could feel like
an octopus.
or octopi could
feel like people.

when you look up at the sky
you are only visiting you.
abandon truth
and enter yourself.
that is where
you will find truth living.

if i gave my family gold cars
theyd ask me who i was
and id realize i was lost
in a strange neighborhood.

i would ask for a ride somewhere
and theyd ask where
and i would realize
i just need to walk.

Once there was a floating hand and it had nobody and it was in the middle of nowhere and it floaded to the middle of nowhere for a time that was inconceivable until one day I found a floating pencil... And it picked up that floating pencil... and I thought yay now I can make some friends and at first I just threw some shapes and they were awful and horrible and it hated itself so it gave up but then after a while it decided to hone its skills and it drew a dragon monster and the dragon monster came to life and it decided that dragon monsters were terrifying so it got away from the dragon monster but it's still all of its gold and made some chains out of it and became a rapper and it live that kind of life for a while but then it decided that it was tired of that life and its last album was about becoming a better person... Then one day I decided I don't need somebody else I just need to feel complete... So it decided to draw a wrist and an arm and a torso and legs and the neck and the head and a ***** and a ****** because it figured what the hell there's nobody else here to judge me I'll just be a man and a woman... But now that it was a person it became lonely again the way through a bunch of friends and a bunch of people to be around it and once they came to life they looked at it and said growth of hermaphrodite and it died of shame in Exile the end

when i find out where i am
ill get going.
when i find out where im going
ill be there.

eat the whales.
save the children,
theyre on sale.
buy em fill em
up with nails.
and watch the sun set sail...

You can put me
in the ground.

You can surely do that.

If you have hands,
sure

and a knife, yes.

a gun, of course.

or,
i don't know..

run me down
with your car

toss me in
a vat of acid

or maybe
train your
Lioness

to maul me

and

to eat me.

you could get inventive with it.
inventiveness is good
i'd adore you for that.

or,

well..

i'd say,
make it
an old fashioned
kind of affair.

swing a shovel
well into my head
and bury me
where i lie.

you'll want a shovel.
yes you will.
your hands,
they're ***** enough already,
i'd say.

and,
it's an awful lot of work-
those graves.

can't make em too shallow.
you don't want to hang.
cuz they'll find you.
and they'll hang you.
they can't dig enough graves
when they forge for themselves
the RIGHT to do so.

...above ground cemetery...

They make Junkyards
out of neighbors.
strangers..

-anyone..

..anyone they can CATCH!
that they can get
enough sets of HANDS on
to hold down.

To judge.

With the collective mind
of the many-headed-beast.

and you're one of the moving pieces
in that swarm of hate..

..that frenzy of Blood-thirst.

that Madness of Zombies...

You are a vital *****.
I've seen how you Pulse,
like the red in your eyes..

and,
so,

my friend.
my enemy.
I tell you this:

You can bury me,
i'll allow it.
I might flinch.
I might scream.
The body is involuntary.
It's a shaky contraption.
And you can bury it,
however you want,
but you can not **** me..

THAT....you can not do.

No matter how much you might hunger for it.

No matter
what DEVIL
your name may be.

You can not **** the Heart
which beats outside of this body.

You can not **** the Heart
which beats beyond this world.

i would sacrifice you to these
higher powers
if it werent by the hands
of an equal degenerate.

the filth of our kind
is better left without
description.

when announced
we attempt to cleanse it
from the earth
by boiling and burning it alive
and everything else in its path.

do not forgive us
for we know what we do.

i have an extra limb.
it speaks to me in a strange sign language that we invented and i am its victim.
it gives me intolerable orders:
acts of cruelty and political assassination.
its metabolism is alien and rapid
it feeds off of the rest of me...
i am it's yolk; walking me from
town to town, i am a withering crisp.

i lay my head down and it creeps into my nightmares
claws at the inside of my skull.
48 days are scratched into the walls 48 days...
i hear the other tenants screaming screaming my name in symbols
symbols i do not understand...
satan must be
muttering Madness.

if the sound of your life
lives between my lips
then how will i starve?