Sunday was sad.

I used to have a dog,
his name was Jimmy.
More happiness than
you could ever give me.

Poetry so eloquent,
I read like you,
I bleed like you.
Prose I find so arrogant.

Baby, draw me
an album cover.
One that's in tune with
all my thoughts of you.

I used to have a bike,
it had five gears.
One for every path
but fear.

Baby, I don't have
a dime, but I make
a **** good cup
of coffee and the
cigarettes I roll
for you will be perfect
every time, I promise.

Finding
my identity
as I fumble
through your
laundry,
I'm finding
my identity
as I stumble
through some
palm trees.

Sitting on the sand
where I watch the tide,
I'm sitting on the sand
where I syllogise;
sunshine and sugar pills,
of which I am comprised.

Honey,
if I'm a ***,
it's because you made me one.

Hearts hold out,
they're under arrest again.
Making love on the lam,
at first you were
reluctant but I know
that you liked it.

For you, I stole a locket,
yeah, I picked pockets,
and I'd build a whole
rocket ship just to get
to you.

You'll have to search and seize me,
You'll have to shoot and freeze me.
Hearts hurt now, there's a lot at stake,
We're all criminals, look at the
trouble we make.

It would be two thousand and thirteen
it would be a seamless,
dreamless sleep,
I was singing the song with more conviction
than the one who wrote it.
Yeah, you're a believer and I'm
living proof.

From the passive to the partisan
from the advocate to the activist,
oils of mine mix with oils of yours
the spoils of war,
we worship the warship,
now the legion is holin' out
and now the legion has got a hold of you!

There goes the popular children
with their popular wisdom,
music, the solitary thing
flings me around this ****** ring,
where'd you get those lenses you're wearing?
Hey DJ, maestro murdered music today!

That band was brand new,
Brandy gave me a cool tattoo.

Figures, I'm right now.
I figure,
I am right now.

I sleep with the pigeons,
I sleep under bridges,
a deteriorating photograph
is all I have.
She left with that winner,
the one that looks like an athlete
but he's actually an artist
you know, the one that gets noticed.
I can't blame her, I've lost it all.
These are the types of injuries that occur
when the ethics are below your pay grade.
So now I sleep under bridges,
the grass is my bed,
and I
bathe with the pigeons.
I keep a hat on my head
while I read the paper with my shoulders
hunched over, although I don't
get cold anymore.

Agitated at how this guy has me figured
out, I just want to throw him on the ground.
I look up at the board in front of me
now and see
that Bukowski has me cornered again
and I want to scream expletives
as loudly as I can, but I catch myself
just before I begin to vent because
the three and four year old children
all around are the only people that
don't yet hold me in complete
contempt and I'd like to keep it
that way.

Sangrias on Saturdays,

a better way,

we got sicker,

the stairs spiraled,

quicker than a Winter's day








and a jet plane






is a

dalmatian




in a weird sort of way.




That was stupid



to sa-

vor

one sort of angle

over
another sort
of strangle
hold

would be a mistake,

one of great consequence,

something to wince at.


Keep wincing.


I know.


Red haired,

struttin' down that stage
like the Summer fox,

strummin' that
southern rock,

get me off, get me off!

I'm stuck

in love me mode

so give me

a good


night lullaby

and tuck me in-
at least.

freckle faced teenager, giddy up!
freckle faced teenager, give it up!

I'll be there,

I"ll be the one.

I'll feel hair

and I'll pull for fun.



Snow.


Roses.


Snow and roses,

Fall always forces
and I can never go back to
the cotton my blood was soaking in.

Snow and roses,
Fall always closes
and leaves me wanting.

I can never go back; ****
the rotten fruit our wine was soaking into.

Hey Barista!

I don't like
my wrist-clock
but
coffee is only
comforting
while it's
hot.

And it's
more important
in the morning
than when,

than when I
go to sleep.
Ahaha!

Ha Ha Ha!
Hey Barista,
since that's what they're callin ya these days,
Aha Ha Ha!
Hey there Barista,
so how much are
they paying ya?
Ha Ha Ha!

I haven't found glory
on the street or in the fields,
the latter being too gory
and the former ******* my heels.

I don't have the words,
it's shaking up my nerves,
I'll take a walk.

Play low class, gamble for cash
with tiny marbles made of glass,
the gravity outweighs the mass
on this tiny marble made of gas.

I can't fly with birds,
it's shaking up my nerves,
I"ll take a walk.

I haven't found glory
on the street or in the fields,
but I'll tell you my stories
because they're real.

Massage the soft tissue between
my thumb and fore finger
to bring the feeling back.
My hands are half numb
from the way I got cuffed.

The sun was glaring up at me
from the pavement,
like a dog that didn't know it's master.
I just wanted to ask her
when I could go home,
and I meant it.

A barrage on the issue at
hand, my palms are hard
and scarred from the attack-
my hands went half numb
from the way I got ******.

Put a bottle opener
on my key chain today.

A **** poor
puddle of greed,
wouldn't it be
terrible
to have fifteen
people,
exactly like you,
all in the same room?

Your perfume,
a concept
rather than
a fragrance,
I must
accept
the difference
between
being upset
and let down.

There was a bible,
its' pages fluttering on a freeway.

I know
that I know
what I know.

But I also know
there is a lot
that I don't know,

she says to me,
confidently.

We would need a ton of luck, and maybe
half that weight in dynamite and guns and such.

We took some photographs,
hiding behind the tall grass
on the knoll. You had never
stolen a thing, but I wasn't going
in alone, so I told you to grow some stones.

They were staring at the clock
when the bank blew up.

It didn't happen over night,
weeks of planning, a couple conflicts
of interest. Nothing that a few hundred
dollars couldn't solve. We'd be in the
money soon enough anyways.

Keep bleeding, its a great distraction.
Lock and load, time for action.

Hell, if we pull this off,
we'll be living easy,
maybe even acquire a little fame.
Honey, I've got one in the chamber
because danger is my middle name.

Coffee coffee coffee
coffee coffee coffee
coffee coffuck
off *******
*******

*******.

Facing you
through a windowpane,
you were mad
'cause I hadn't
kissed you yet.

When I got there,
you know I didn't care.
You know I wasn't scared.

Slow me down or
spin me sideways,
for I will always
be around.

Racing you
through the rain,
I was glad
'cause you hadn't
had a regret.

When you got there
you were unaware,
you were unprepared.

Slow me down or
spin me sideways,
for I will always
be around.

Obsidian hawks
hang from lamp posts,
lining the Gothic
architecture of our hearts,

the shadows,
turning me yellowish
gray, leak out
life
in the strangest way.
The
silhouettes sway
and moan, listening
to the wind whisper
through their
hair, the stories
of dreams
being embalmed.

These lanterns want
to keep me awake,
longing in the retro-
red, belonging
to the sweet,
the concrete dead.

Bright star,
you look
like garbage
to me.
And these sickle
souls bleed
on everything
in between,
blue moons,
left with traces
of where their halos
used to be,
a halogen lamp
reverie.

Obsidian hawks
mark the page
where the ink
met the river
and decided to
run off,
saving room
for prayer,
or maybe another
layer of meaning,
something,
at least
seemingly true;
I wouldn't know,
but, vultures they say.

Stella told us she was bi.

I stared down at my oysters,
covered in parmesan,
taste like the ***** in Frenchtown.

With my silken tongue,
flicked another from its
shell, let the goo drip
down my lip, and run
up my wrist.

You never
thought I'd
say never.

Get Clever.

**** a sickle from the star,
******' stick it in a cross.
******' vinegar, I'm hot.
I don't dance a lot.

Pull it it back
like a bow,
you'll never know
what I'm talking about,
I'll just throw
my paint at
the canvas, let it
work itself out.

Pucker up and tuck
it in. **** it up
and bless your sin.

Keep the privileged in their place
and keep the simple in their space,
there is no common you can't erase.

Too many
******' problems,
you wish
you
could
******' solve 'em.

Too much hate?
Your heart
has never had
to participate.

******' lonely?
You've got
too much
on your plate.

Reciprocate.

The surface,
the focus,
I'm sure of all of this.

Get clever.

In all seriousness,
I hate to say it's not an art that's improvised, it's more like you camp out, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking, eating, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking. Praying like **** for the the snare that you set up in an half assed attempt, like always, ******* hoping it comes through for you. Pathetic isn't it?

I've got too many ideas and as these dimwits stare at the bright light behind me I get sadder.
You're probably getting madder, like I'm a ******* ingrate, It's not too late to call me out because I've just begun my tirade.

Unreadable, I know.
If you made it this far I've got to say, you are completely frivolous, and forlorn;
for that I salute you, and realizing this is all in bad taste, I bid you goodnight.

****, that was fast. Didn't even get to what I meant to.

Come down,
come down,
come down from your rain cloud.
You're always rainin' on me
babe.

It isn't practical
up there,
what's the use?
And if you're in the sky
where am I,
save, you gotta save it for me now.

Rock me rock me rock me rock me
Rockaway, rock me to Brighton!,
Coney Island dead give away, hey!
I feel like there is more-
there is more and, and I'm not
fully sure,
not from New York.
everybody moves their body fast

they wanna do this city fast,
rock me rock me rock me,
rock me, you know I'm slow.

Get wise, get wise
rest sore eyes
on petals blue.
The waves
and the flat lands are too high now.

The dedication
was ingrained
in his fingertips,
(like Bowie,
like Bob), yet
there was no
boldness,
no brilliance
in the decay,
(like David,
like Dylan,
lord willin').

And so
I asked him:

Shall I
dare

to play
Baudelaire
over six flights
of stairs?

No?

Is it really worth
that much to you?
Is it worth anything at all?
Is just getting away always good enough?

And then I said to him,

kid,
sometimes
you gotta bury
'em.
And this is coming
from me with my chest
resting on the ground.

Snicker snicker, giggle giggle,
it's funny,
the way your pen wiggles.

Take my hand,
don't trip trip trip,
don't trip
over my bare feet.
Take my can,
and sip sip sip,
sip sip
where land meets sea.

Take me there all wrapped in sunshine,
the weather's fine when your heart is close to mine.
We've got more time than the rest of them,
and anyhow, we're not going anywhere right now.

You put the fight back in me.
You laced up the old gloves for me.
Like flint to fire, your love
sparked and inspired,
like flint to fire, your love
sparked and inspired me.

Sharing small spaces,
we are rare, rare cases.
Just a shack or a roof of thatch
is all we need when we have the waves
and flowers in our faces.

The transaction is almost complete.
By the time he catches on,
I'll be long gone. Poor Pete.

A keen eye for another
mans' lighter, don't we all?
I'm a thief among thieves.
This is no small time operation.

The deed is done.
Enter six kids with
sick intentions as I
celebrate in a hazy room.

Keep conversation cordial
but don't let down your guard.
This is the hardest part.

I thought victory was
in the pocket of my jeans,
but as they stumbled through
the door, I fumbled for my score.

I wasn't able to hold on.
I don't know what went wrong,
must have left it on the table.
Can't resist a game so playable.

Smack, jab! Left, right,
watch out I bite,
process words
too fast,
they move like
flashes through my thoughts,
I don't make them, they don't make me
Don't force them, they don't force me-
I do this for fun;
bash my head into a turtle's skeleton,
pelicans, stay out of the way.
Wish wash kind of washer head,
wolf wild but walker wed,
stupid is as stupid ever gets when
stupid is what stupid said he'd turn
stupid,
what he'd spurn, stupid
pedestrian...
I, always the equestrian
and never stupid (and never wasteful
but always mindful, mind you!), like
to think that I do this for fun.

Believe me,
I do this for fun.

Deer pilfer a red nut under a re-flip reed.

Detachment doesn't follow from distance
and so for a few cents a minute
we send our sentiments half way around
the world. Hurling hellos,
goodbyes, in dialects that
don't yet exist.

We find utility in comfort
and comfort in utility,
all the musicians
have delusions,
after double heart
triggered reality tryst,
they split,
making two languages
out of it.

I hardly have my eyes
open while I'm driving
anymore.
I will not swerve,

baby, I swear,
I will serve you.

I need you
at the day's end,
pull back the
pavement for you.

Goin' down

tail end.

Not a statement
concerning you.

*You said you like to make love in the dark 'cause it's a lost art and you told me to calm down, to relax, you told me that it's okay to explain things the same way 'cause being too original used to get you killed, and you fed me jazz and you licked my lips,
you drew two hearts, one on my car, and one on my hip.

America is

America is a fern
and we all cultivate it.

America is germinating
and we can't control it.

America is in terms
that I can come to terms with.

America is a way
with words, America is
what it takes to describe
an urban landscape,
America is a blending of voices,
America is a sophisticated
form of art.
America is a day old
railroad of the new world
where the waters have never
been tested, where our trust
lies in the ones best at
acting their part.
America is what we make
out of a broken home, and
America will be the first to
cast a stone.
America sees us off, with
tears, and roses chosen
for us in a dim lit florist.
America already knows
where to find you,
and that the worst is
behind you,
America is a Grandmother
named Jones.

Dismissive and incredulous,
could something be so ridiculous?

Solitary, eight armed octopus.
I look at you with bulging eyes-
nothing stranger could exist.
I sulk back into the abyss.

Feeling high on these trippy waves
could have guessed your bugging
eyes wouldn't stay the same.
dancing on the nerve endings,
the frequency shows itself,
strobes in and out phase.

In and out of phase,
feeling high on these trippy waves
be brave tonight,
and in your case,
be lighter than the page
your heart was written on.

I won't back out.
What do you want to do?
With a passion
for the fashions of a time passed,
I've forgotten how to analyze:
what makes me a *****?
I've forgotten why
I'm sleeping alone-
I'm dreaming-
alone.
And my dreams
are but mine alone.

But...

I'll rig the smallest ship
and I'll challenge the stars
because the gods live too far away
to deliver me...

when your lips
are the sweetest figs
and I can't see
through the fox-bark mist.

I apologize,
is there any power,
any power behind this?

You've got a lot
of thoughts in your head,
like rocks in your bed
they keep you up.
Tossing and turning
dreaming about
buses, one that I'm on,
coming to see you.

I know it hurt you
when you hurt me
and I know
you didn't mean
for the apology
to sound so empty.

Kara told me
you aren't eating,
that the color
from your face
is fleeting, and
that the habit is there to stay.

You could
never figure
out
what was more
risky,
getting
lost
or standing
out in the crowd,
and yeah,
it's hard to make
mom proud
with all that *******
around.

I know your
neck is
still
aching
from the accident,
but beautiful,
taking medication
just isn't safe
with your
addictive
personality.
I know because
mine gets the better of me.

I know
you don't want
to hear any of this,
and I know
you don't want
to hear me,
but when you're
out of money
and you've
got
nowhere left
to go,
then I won't
sound so hollow.

Tonight,
I'll come over
tonight,
it'll be
like old times.
I'll bring the
gin
and my
violin
and we can
sing
this bottle dry.

I could
use a drink
right now,
yeah, I think
I could use
a drink right now.

We were both huddled together,
cuddled up on the love seat.
We were sharing some primary source of joy,
the title I can't recall now,
when she let out a frail sigh
and said
"you know, I don't really give a **** about being remembered,
I'd rather just be read now, at face value, and left at that."
Her admission was inspiring.



Faking headaches
and skipping class
to go back to my house,
everyone thought we were sociopaths but
we were just lonely.
To say she understood me
is an understatement.


After we put the book down
she insisted that a good kiss
should be vaccuous
and I said I didn't get it,
that's when she put her lips to mine
and enlightened me.

Like her bar of soap,
but dirtier,
I was bent on the curves of her body.

Glass eyed,
running from our final hour.
Crass lies,
nothing tastes as sour.

When I was sixteen
I would trade
my allowance
for some feelings
every Friday night.
I'd pull on the strings
and pull on my hair
until I was discordant
and bald and
still in the dark.

I tried hard to see
what they wanted me to see
in country, when it came to metal
I just couldn't feel the steel and
hip hop failed to have
the same effect on me.
When I was a sick teen,
see, that's when I found indie.




What did you think you'd find in the avant-garde?
beautiful, new, perplexing, plexi-glass box
where rock stars go to suffocate
and die
(keep kitsch alive).
Really,
what did you think you'd find in the junk-yard?

Glad I missed the rhythm of those loops.

You take your ship to sea,
if you find an island
you can name it for me,
I'm like Constantine.
Cryptic chronology,
sea sick ceremony,
a brief history
of bigotry,
and a few
methods to model
the abstract,
sometimes whack point of view.
Got it rough,
take it from me,
take my stuff,
you can take it from me,
that's enough,
you're a lot tougher than me.
Pure art and patriarchy,
parrot in the park,
no contest,
no success for the weaker ***.
Passed through a hundred hands,
across a hundred lands,
a glittering
glimpse of its beauty
can be an empire's end.
You take your whip to me,
if I mine a diamond,
you can take it from me,
I'm in slavery.

My ****** bandages
cover the wound,
my imaginary band
is playing top of the roof.

Take
my
number,
take
my
victim
card,
victim
scarred,

singing
is
hard.

Standing center,
rage of frost
flooding
through arteries
to fingertips,
icicles dangling
from my ankles,
bass guy from the unnamed
session band cleared his throat,
looked over to the guitar man,
he was looking down.
I was dying with a flower in my hand,
making monuments out of the audience.

To the left of me was an angel
smiling,
drawing ***** on dollar bills,
stuffing them into the pants
of whoever passed by;
some feinted modesty
but most implored,
writhing,
******* themselves
crying "more, more more!"
To the right of me a
cricket heehawed-
involuntary- 
and played a clown;
there were two psychologists,
one ripped off his clothes,
took fighting stance,
beating his chest and howling,
eyes glowing toxic green as his
colleague got on hands
and knees,
held a stethoscope
to the puddle of *****
accumulating beneath him,
brow creased,
listening intently.

And yes, I finished your manuscript,
under duress I guess.
I felt like I'd perfect the phrases
in the only ways that I knew how.

By clenching curses into my teeth,
allowing the howling soul
to disengage and repeat itself,
completing that boundless,
ever restless, and eternal process.

My ****** bandages cover the wounds,
my imaginary band is much

cooler than you.

It's nothing.

It's nothing
that you'd be into.

I've got a glass of wine in one hand, while I'm trying to keep my balance, as I take my socks off with the other. I stumble, and land abruptly on my bed. Half a glass of Merlot sloshes onto my cream colored cloth sheets and I slur some sounds, shooting for '****' and '****'.

Lily takes her heels off downstairs and creeps up to my room; she moves easily, as if hovering a few inches above the ground as to not let a single sound reach my bludgeoned ears until she laid down beside me. As she began to loosen my tie she pecked softly at every inch of my newly exposed neck, tender, and begging.
My eyes flutter as she whispers,or whimpers (I can't tell)

I know no one's perfect,
but why do you gotta act so far from it?
Jesuit, you're desolate, but I don't know
where I'm going, and I'm slowly dying.

I know that we make
bad choices in mates and you're a mistake,
but I'm lost as to what the cost might be
because right now you're so good for me

and I think I can carry that weight.

Lily,
I've learned a great deal about love and languages tonight.
Just barely masked by metaphor, I couldn't think of a more cliche
way of saying I love you.

Snow, snow
on the tip of her nose
sick of sincere
now spare me some change,

low, low
lo-fi guy,
his is coming at the wrong time,
I'm
all out of line.

Learn, learn
what did you learn?
What did you learn while
burning the truth?

Burn, burn,
what would I do?
What would I do if I wasn't
burning for you?

Snow, snow
on the tip of her nose,
chicken head chokin'
on a piece of advice.

I am a poem,
so complex.

Although,
I'd been written over
thousands of different times,
you never even read me through
once

because

you

were too

stupid.

There is no self reflective, only what infects that ****** ****** state of mind, fraternal and stupid. Responding to text like what it used to be, that's why nobody gets me, a dog barks at eight nineteen and I become more aware of my mortality as I lay down to sleep. Until the night became the day, I sat there with my tooth decay, we never exactly were the type of people to break bread on. I told my dad I needed new experiences every night or I couldn't write, that I like to strike matches, and sometimes they light under houses. Don't make a habit out of breaking mirrors, otherwise it will reflect poorly on you.

There are more interesting things than your phone.
Look up, look up and you'll see.

There are more colors and tones
Surrounding you than you will ever find in that glossy screen.
Look up, look up and you'll see.

There are more interesting things than your phone.
Look up, look up *******, and you'll see.

It's been one boring, restless, ***** of a drive through this sunken state. I click the windshield wipers off as they smear verdigris across my polarized vision, the FM stereo crackles and hisses in dissonance
with moaning, squealing brakes. My four cylinder fishtails ever so slightly as tattered tires nick and skid through puddles of *** the cumulus left behind after ******* the sun, which is crying now as it falls to sleep. Driving mechanically, I let my thoughts wander as I meander along I-4.

*You and I, we've never known what it means to perfect our chapters, to get into each little cavity, or between two immaculate ribs. We'd like to simplify all of that to one line, to reduce the dimensions rather than revel in their story. To see with six eyes or live as a termite within the wood grain is really all the same. But you know, we haven't finished yet simply because we are not finished yet. Some of us yet insist they hold on to the rotting shreds of a dying breed, a generation gone gangrene, their fingers in their feces.

But we know how we want it to be. Humanity will be different for you kids, we promise.

Nothing about it
makes any sense,
the way she puts me
on the fence.


Arbitrary grading

masquerading beneath
the facade of a rubric,

it's *******
and I'll prove it.

They came
out of the sun.
They came as one,
and then burst
into a thousand
brightly
burning birds,
colliding
kaleidoscopes-
smashed up stars,
mashed up Mars-
crimson
in my eyes,
feathered
arrows
in flight,
flocking
to the flood
beneath us,
the stars fell
like trickles of blood
from the brow of the sky,


I was high.

So high.