Inside these dimensions of my prison,
shattered in fragments of fear,
I utter stifled screams
from my body heap,
piled on the hardwood floor
trapped, desolate and
wretched in mind,
what is left of me after invasion and ravage?
Chase away this these vultures and thieves,
so to shut out this duality
a rabbit caught in headlights
less the words I have spoken to you,
to reconstruct and repair
this shattered Self,
(Until further notice)
i love you.
Drowning inside hands.
A fluorescent chime.
Skin scrubbed radiation.
Force-feeding plastic and sugar and flesh.
Pushing and pulling until tendons flail weathered
Up. And. Down.
Up and down upanddown until the store of powders, prints, nails tumble out carmine and is sobbing
gagging on a high chair.
The candied calculator like heart-shaped pupils and sticky soles.
Opaque ID’s and strands of you abandoned in navy sheets.
Shoulder tassels taught on Adam’s apple.
Love stitches bedding and hollows bodies.
Love lights the West and lines waste baskets wet.
Love is a little girl vomiting into a lion’s den.
My nutritionist told me I need to increase my caloric intake and eat more carbs. I asked my nutritionist, “aren’t carbs bad for you?”
She said, “No. Carbs are not bad for you, carbs are an immediate energy source for your body to use, what’s bad for you is not eating enough and passing out at the end of the day like some pussy bitch. Now eat some carbs and get some meat on those bones before I order you a goddamn pizza myself.”
I should mention that my nutritionist is also my best friend. I call her Lady Reptar, because she is one. A lady, not a reptar, even though she’s twenty times more awesome than a dinosaur and fifty times nicer. She’s beautiful like a motherfucking daisy in the woods and she’s sharp and wittier than her cooking knives and she’s warmer than her father’s woodstove.
"So, do poppy seeds count as protein?"
I feel like I am neurologically deficient
That a lot of my brain cells our missing
Like a punch drunk doped up punk boxer
A pimply muscle bound moron on steroids
Hanging out at my old high school locker
No shocker that I am no medical doctor
But I always thought I’d be just a bit better
I guess on average I am a little bit smarter
But the bar is set so low that it requires
Very little to grow and go over it, you know
In comparison to the other young men
I may be grandstanding and one upping them
But when it comes to grand scheme of things
When compared to past people
Who shared my glorious dreams
Like Percy Shelley and John Keats
Like Ginsburg and the other Beats
I think I am drifting of course just a bit
Lest we all forget the shit cut the crap to fit in it
Maybe I’m okay few travel this way anyways
So who’s to say if I’m doing it the wrong or the right way
But I still feel like my brain needs a chemical treatment
A diet with more nutrient and sufficient Supplements
Because I’m feeling neurologically deficient
Velvet lovers swim into a purple nest
Meeting at a hysteria they cant resist
A thousand molecules crowding at their skin
Famished of nutrition
But sustained by birth
Deprived of other Banquet,
I entertained Myself—
At first—a scant nutrition—
An insufficient Loaf—
But grown by slender addings
To so esteemed a size
’Tis sumptuous enough for me—
And almost to suffice
A Robin’s famine able—
Red Pilgrim, He and I—
A Berry from our table
finding this morning
awareness of loss
the obituary entry
this physical sense..
those lesser deaths
portrayed as loss
fill electronic news..
or loss Approaching..?
loss seems woven
into our fabric..
our morning Nutrition:
approaching is longing
to locate disclosures
of buried light
under the garments