"In a row???" I ask, incredulous.

"Nah, man."

"Were you at least #37?"

"Well, yeah. But still that gets to me," he says. He starts counting change, playing with pennies on the glass counter.

"If you didn't see it, it didn't happen," I reply. I pull out a $5.00 bill.

"That's childish!" He looks at me like I'm a babbling idiot.

"That's my life!" It was my life.

"I can't believe you sometimes," he says. Nobody can, bud.

"You better start. I'm smarter than I look." I'm bluffing now; I'm a ******* idiot.

"Yeah, yeah. Do you wanna buy anything or not?" he goes back to his pennies on the glass counter.

"Yeah--Marlboro Reds," I reply hesitantly. For a moment I thought about Camels.

"$5.00 even." It's always $5.00 even when you're with friends.

"Alright."

"Shorts or 100s?"

"****, man, shorts!" It's my turn to look at him like he's a total stranger.

"Just asking." He puts the bill in the register.

"Shorts say badass. 100s say suicide mission."

"I suppose you're right."

"It makes perfect sense!"

"Either way you're going to die."

"Yeah? So are you, buddy."

"*******."

I exit the convenience store, pack my Marlboro Reds, turn two up (one for luck, one for ****, to be smoked lastly out of the pack) and light one.

in my family conversation is seldom thoughtful questioning filled with wonder quiet pauses instead it is sociable banter teasing goading spontaneous gratuitous remarks clever embellishment excessive flattery it is an ancient system passed down patronage pecking order nepotism sycophancy near to impossible for me to be honest in presence of their overwhelming vanity when it comes to family gatherings my voice isn’t very strong my family’s joking squelches my chirp they are each and all more loud sarcastic faster wittier more crude outrageous more funny loud gregarious sanguine Mom embarrasses herself with uncalled for flirtations (her mental state rapidly deteriorating) everyone laughs boisterously they snap kid exaggerate amplify taunt i can hardly get word in i need to repeat myself several times or more to be heard my voice is minor i struggle to tell story they listen politely then rush back into their rowdy repartee i am way too sincere way too naked in my ineptitude my stomach ties in knots biting lip shivering from cold fear what’s going to happen pitch black in front of me voice inside screams please i need help so bad please make it easier i’m lost in all this commotion drama hunger lack of clarity

Chicago 1980 Odysseus always revered cousin Chris is taller tan-skinned handsomer stronger protective of Odysseus knowing he is frivolous liability tags along with Chris and his prosperous trader friends advantaged echelon inherited wealth educated white young men they float above everyone else their tastes in clothes furnishings run Brooks Brothers Burberry Giorgio Armani Ralph Lauren John-Paul Gautier Paul Smith Emile Zegna Salvatore Ferragamo their preference in women run typically blonde large ******* tight butts make-up painted nails they think Odysseus is a freak because he usually chooses females none of them want Odysseus likes skinny girls flat chests glasses he knows he is an extraneous art pet to Chris and his group

Chris joins newly built state of art fitness facility pricey membership accesses all of Chicago’s fast track shakers movers politicians lawyers pretty people Odysseus has his limits he does not have money to join also he dislikes snooty elitism several times Chris invites Odysseus as guest Odysseus feels insecure outsider Chris always includes Odysseus pays for dinners they begin with round of doubles then 2nd round of doubles before glancing at menu Chris drinks Canadian Club on the rocks Odysseus follows they raucously order extravagant meals with appetizers 3rd 4th 5th rounds of doubles after pricey dinner at chic restaurant Chris’s group rendezvous at bar or club they order round of drinks tip lavishly sip drink glare around room leave barely touched drinks walk out with look of disdain they scavenge more bars in search of females or some intangible attraction Odysseus is never certain what they are looking for or what is the source of their contempt each wears black leather jacket carries huge wads of cash $20s $50s $100s folded stuffed in front pockets no wallets or clips

the Red Meat palace or Chang’s Szechwan grill are their favorite restaurants as many as 8 men sit at table pack mentality prevails for dessert course they pull out small brown bottles filled with ******* if it is Friday night Chris’s pad is frequently elected females other arrangements settle bill depart restaurant one night Odysseus arrives early at Chang’s wanders downstairs into women’s boutique salesgirl named Fiona greets him they hit it off he invites her to join him and his hosts upstairs after her shift is done Fiona arrives as dessert is about to be served table of men look desirously at Fiona beams Odysseus and Fiona along with Chris Phil Tom go to Odysseus’s place Fiona is perhaps 22 petite lovely with deep blue eyes set wide apart long eyelashes brown thick hair cut to shoulders high ******* pink ******* fragrance of linden flowers delighted by male attention Fiona ***** fondles each men are quite intoxicated Odysseus and Phil are only capable to sustain erections Odysseus stares mesmerized at Fiona’s extraordinarily swollen ***** she notices his fixation grins blushing men shout commands but in actuality Fiona is in charge reducing each of them to little boys vying for her attention near conclusion she requests they form circle around her ******* on her chest she fondles them touches herself men laugh mockingly as if to compensate for their lack of performance Tom picks up plastic dart gun aims it at Fiona she laughs crawls on all fours Tom fires dart hitting her on **** Phil grabs gun from Tom reloads another dart suddenly it feels like fraternity stunt Odysseus goes along offended by his own complicity to him episode feels more like men having *** with each other than being with a woman telephone rings it is Odysseus’s latest love pursuit she tells him she is on her way over everyone rushes to put on clothes change bed sheets they depart within minutes she arrives finally ready after weeks of romancing to put out for him after that night when Chris and Odysseus get buzzed in bar Chris routinely speaks the line to women have you ever been done by 2 cousins one night at Green River tavern woman squeezes milk from her ****** into shot glass dares cousins to drink Chris laughing turns down her offer Odysseus shoots back shot of milk then takes swig of Irish whiskey cousins go see Billy Idol at Odysseus’s insistence they stand near front stage young girls screaming after show driving home in Chris’s Fiat Spider Chris complains his ears are ringing i don’t know how i’ll be able to work tomorrow Odysseus nods like he hears hollers out window hey little sister shotgun!

Mom and Dad want their son to enjoy fruits of burgeoning affluence they feel certain what they are doing is best for him they rent quarter seat at Chicago Mercantile Exchange they originally promised full seat but they are overextended Odysseus enrolls in trading course he learns to trade Certificates of Deposit and Eurodollars which are recently established markets suddenly Odysseus has lots of cash his parents are dishing out he does not know what he is doing newly launched markets lack investment and fleece young men of their parent’s money his friends surroundings change he loses sight of himself he is a thoroughly incompetent trader bleeding cash scatters money between harebrained panicked trades or ******* girls $1000. wristwatch when Mom and Dad see jewelry they become furious in a way he represents his parent’s design for how to build successful son yet their plan is going dreadfully wrong he wants to stand up speak out against Dad and Mom he is not courageous enough to counter their weight he wants to express with more assurance his passion to pursue painting and writing isn’t fact he graduated from art school evidence enough of his aspirations commodities exchange is last place in the world he belongs Odysseus is risk taker but he is not aggressive or entrepreneurial only lesson he has learned with respect to his parents is how to run away

by all appearances cousin Chris is brilliant trader in reality Chris is hooked up with powerful crooked brokers they use him as their bagman he covers losing trades and is compensated or offsets winning side of profitable trades subsequently dealt his share Chris is not a criminal he stumbles into profit-making situation when certain conditions are flexible to advantages Chris is diligent hard worker the vast sums of money he earns do not distort his personality he is always generous shielding of Odysseus gold trading pit becomes so shady S.E.C. intervenes relinquishing exchange’s contract Chris and his bosses walk away unscathed having made their bundles

Mom and Aunt Rita run social itinerary for family including birthdays holidays all other gatherings where family will meet changes by the minute depending on Mom and Aunt Rita’s caprice checking in by telephone at least an hour before is mandatory arriving at destination Mom and Aunt Rita insist on specific table location seating arrangement it is important they be seen viewed by others at restaurant they never sit near kitchen or washrooms or where there is too much noise light away from drafts who sits next to who is crucial round tables are their favorite preferring backs to wall looking out so they can nod wave Mom rules from proud pedestal Dad upholds chain of command sometimes he irritably gripes Aunt Rita immediately comes to Mom’s defense Dad points finger back off Rita you’re way out of line where do you come up with a remark like that Mom mediates Max that’s enough in a way the sisters are spoiled little girls over-indulged by their father they believe their opinions and tastes are the best most correct everyone in family are subordinate to their no and don’t Mom and Aunt Rita routinely criticize Odysseus’s semantics oppose his observations critical of his clothes conduct they handily misconstrue his comments to mean fodder for their amusement Mom and Aunt Rita’s efforts to keep prim proper decorum cause resentment Odysseus feels constricted by his subservient role in drama of family he fails to understand their care

Odysseus busts out of markets leaving behind alarming debts for family to pay off he feels humiliation disgrace plunges into bottomless sleepless despair hides in house door locked window shutters shut phone rings unanswered hates life willfully wants to destroy himself there is no way out after week Chris comes by to see if he is all right Odysseus is reluctant to let Chris in Chris commands be a man get a grip on yourself Odysseus replies maybe i’m not a man he feels failure shame realizes he has become traitor to himself he wants to look at existence head on embrace it but all he knows are dishonor regret deception he conceives his being has been stolen he wants his life back but knows not how to recover it he feels deep in obligation to Mom and Dad thinks to escape from Chicago but his parent’s control is crushing he wakes late drinks black coffee smokes cigarettes marijuana hangs out alone sky changes from light to dark to light phone rings he reads Nietzsche Sartre frequents ***** Hole punk rock dive several blocks from residence becomes orphan of night drinking drugging

January 5 2011 30 years have passed Chris marries fathers son becomes best father to his child he can be leaves markets in late 80’s Dad dies in ’91 Odysseus leaves Chicago in 1994 he manages to paint some paintings write some words stomach ties in knots biting lip shivering from cold fear what’s going to happen ***** pink gray skies behind pitch black in front sometimes you need to take a step back in order to move forward Mom says she worried enough about money when she was younger and isn’t going to worry about it anymore her entire life she boasted i’m saving for my children but in the end she saved solely for herself Odysseus never learned to stand on his own all he ever wanted is to love and be loved he wonders what will happen next

my breath smells like whiskey,
my clothes smell like smoke,
you told me i smell like i could use a ride home.

driving, driving.
you passed my road.
no, babe, it's up here, I know where to go.
don't call me that, don't, don't.
where are you going?
then the car slowed.

my parents will call soon,
where is my phone?
you dropped it on the floor, babe, right by your toes.
i can't find it, where is it?
they'll think i'm alone.
you've got me with you, babe, don't fuss,
I'll get you home.

what are you doing?
babe, I’m just stopping for a smoke.
you light your 100s
but i just want to go home.
babe, it's hot, why don't you take off your clothes?
please, please. don't,

don't.

would you put out your cigarette?
i'm going to smell like smoke.
you were smoking all night, babe, I don't like your tone.
why are you unbuckling? can't you just go?
shut up, babe, will you? don't you want to get home?

my pleas, so muted and alone,
screamed at you to stop while i inhaled your cologne.
your body was warm, intentions hard as stone,
you unzipped my shorts,
your hands were ice cold
and sent paralyzing shivers down to my bones.
i wanted you to stop but how could you have known?
you never gave me a chance to tell you
that i just wanted to go home.

It tastes like you,
From start to finish.
As I flick the lighter,
And the flame warms my face,
I can feel your light blinding me again.
That first inhale,
It’s something divine,
Like when you open the door for me,
Wearing leggings and a cropped long sleeve.
As I inhale, the flames burn my throat
Like saying goodnight after one of our long talks.
Holding it in my lungs, I’m transported.
On your porch, leaning against each other,
In your car, singing a Disney song
In your kitchen, crying about a hypothetical.
As I exhale, I can feel it
The words coming out of my mouth
Like a waterfall I can’t control
“I like you so much,
You’re so beautiful”
So I continue to smoke them,
One puff at a time,
And remember our moments,
Trying to keep them all mine.
The last hit always burns my lips a little,
Warm and sweet,
Like your lips were on mine.
It’s killing me slowly,
But then, so were you.

Liquor might be the death of me
But I don't care, it's a part of me
Every time I have an extra 10 bucks, the liquor store I hit
I get drunk and call some girls..in the morning I'm like ****
Why is she mad, what did I say
Fucket, it's another day
Can't worry about what she's feeling
Nobody knows the cards my life has been dealing
It's ****** up, lonely boredom typing on some unknown website
Listening to Linkin Park "In the End"
My words are deeper than "bands a make her dance"
Yet I type in rhymes to make this **** have a cool end
My mind is ****** up
I forgot what this poem was about?
Liquor, oh yea. I have a bottle most people would get alcohol poisoning off of
I can drink it, no problem just wake up needing chapstick
Spent 100s on college books now I'm broke
Man I'ma loner I neeed a *** to poke
Lookin at my tatts glad I don't smoke
Liquor, I drink brown I drink clear
Straight up (ghetto talk) **** a beer

Cindy Used-to-be-Wilks-Now-Prine-Again
pulled a hammer from the intersection
of *** crack and belt line,
and proceeded to air out
the passenger-side window
of her in-laws Suburban.

She dropped the parcel in the
captain chair and ran back up the
driveway to the soundtrack of a
whiny car alarm.

By the time the master bedroom's light lit,
she was turning the car's ignition.

She made a beeline for the Children's Funhouse,
just under the skirt of Oklahoma City.
Blanketed by a dense tree line, the red and yellow
chipped, wooden building was thought
by most interstate nomads as an ancient eyesore.

She parked at McGowan's Store, bought a 30-pack of 'Stones and
a pack of red 100s.
Cindy ran across the lulling interstate to the Children's Funhouse.

Walked in the backdoor beaming,
"Hello ladies! Anybody want a drink?" she said to the room
full of workers.

The women of Children's Funhouse sported an image
that anyone could guess, as long as they knew
the place to be a middle-classy truck stop brothel.

After a chorus of I-do, I-do's, Cindy began tossing beers
to freckled ladies, decked in frilly skirts, saddle shoes, bobby socks,
and more often than not--pigtails.

Chung-Ae Phun, the madame, walked up behind Cindy,
tapped her on the shoulder and the two embraced warmly.
"Hey Mama," Cindy said.

"Oh, Cindy Lilly, it's so good to see you!
You picked a wonderful night to make your
prodigal return. Looks like a lot of business tonight."

"I could certainly use the money."

"Is four okay?"

"I'll take as many as you can send my way."

"That's the spirit darling. I want you to take
the Candy Corn Suite."

"I'd be honored, Mama."

Chung-Ae Phun established a fine business.
On Mondays she treated the local law enforcement,
on Sundays the district judge, and every other day
weary truckers came in to find solace.
Only special guests were treated to "special" girls
in the Candy Corn Suite.
The orange and white checkered carpet, the yellow walls,
radiated an eerie invitation.

"Let me get your outfit ready,
if you'd like you can wait in the room" Phun said.

Cindy Prine moved the stuffed bunnies and bears,
and planted on the bed.
Freedom rang like the Liberty Bell in her small skull.
Few of God's creatures ever held as much original
joy in their bones as Cindy Prine.
She could turn tundra to beachfront with a smile.

Chung-Ae Phun knocked on the door and entered,
setting a white and pink polka dot dress on the edge of
the bed.

"Your first client is a friend of a friend. Terrible gut,
smells like an ocean of whiskey, but seems nice enough."

"What's his name," Cindy asked.

"Hank."

"Send him in."

Cindy slid into the dress,
quickly pounded a beer,
heard a rapid, eager knock on the door.

"C'mon" Cindy chimed.

"Well, gawd ****, baby girl. Looks like you've been real bad."

Cindy rolled her eyes.

"I sure have. I can't find my ******* anywhere.
Will you help me look, Hank?"

Still be hoggin' in the game
Ya know my name
Yosef is the same
That was since i was born
N served my cain
I got these hippies going insane
Against the grain
I drop the real **** blood ****
That start wars n ****
Reach my hands in the pulpits
Of hell broke out the cell
Now all exposed is hell i dont yell
I let my guns brag n tell
N you can tell i been through drama
By lookin' into my eyes
Ya see a cold glare stoppin' stare
Ya cant figure me out im all.about
Big bens franklins to washingtons
Dolla dolla bill yall i stand tall
With my hand on my *****
Slap it across ya jaws
Now how it taste to be the big boss
Im.outta space
My layers come in ozone so why dont ya phone home
***** i hit a switch pop a lick
Now ya laying hands clutched
In a casket
Stiff n cold ya neva thought yya could fold
But i broke through ya mold
Rode with the baddest OGs
Your game is the saddest **** ****
Like Gladys
Night im on the midnight train to Georgia
So pour me up some of that drank
Sit n park my mind n thank
Uh all my enemies couldnt the best of me
Cuz they wanna get paper like me
Cheese is stinkin' got ya eyes blinkin'
So fast im gone like a lightening flash
N ya can call it what ya want
But the west side riders is gone taunt


Yea fools im old school like Rodney O
With everlasting bass fo
Ya *** finish yo *** with the chrome thats stash
My heaters make ya sweat im an imminent
Threat so forget
All that chit chat
These cats aint spittin' facts
Facts is they wack as soulja boy
Droppin' Superman never been a fan
Of ***** **** im down for gangsta ****
Roll with OGs n TGs who push ozs to keys
No fleas
No me cuz im sucker free **** the industry
Im callin' out everybody
That done did it o ya ******* ya been admitted
To my ICU Camp
Ya couldnt even pay ya way out
With a billion dolla foodstamps
I hit ya with stamp ya know im postal
Quick to grab a pistol split yo temple
100s or 300s spinnin' off the box top
Caprice 84 with vogues n switches on hop
Cant stop wont stop
Its still one eighty seven on a undacovee cop
Beat the case cuz i keep been big bens in my case check the smile on my face
We aint grimy we shining hotter than sun
The luminous one knock off the crumbs
Off my table cuz yall aint able
To handle me too hot to touch
N if ya try my whole clique gone blow up
On you what ya gone do?
Red white or blue?
Doi have to spell it naw ill just let my past deade enemies tell it!!!

Patterns form across convex corneas
Geometric portraits of tangram animals
Hexagonal-faced lions
Triangular-trunked elephants
etc.
Tessellations of
anagrams
Draped over rods like Batik fabric smoothed over king-sized beds
Calculating Bayesian probability on fingertips
rote
styles
Whispering, "Carry the 1!" to columns of 100s
with a remainder? Try again.
Plot Cartesian coordinates with mechanical pencils
click! click! click!
Crying, "Awwwww.....
                                  you
                                        sunk
                                                my
                                                     battleship!"

Six or seven women ranging from thirty to sixty
stand chit-chatting in a somewhat-circle outside the State House.
Slowly, they dry their skin and dye their hair in the smoky sunlight
of the morning break; taking their time off with each long pull and curl.

A light skinned black woman dressed in navy sweater and
pinned with power star speaks to the group.
Deep inside her lungs a road is being paved.

You can hear the tremble of the rollers flattening molten pavement,
the rumble of the endless packs of 100s of dump trucks
the wisp and rasp of steam, the cough and hack of working men who’ve spent too
much time paving roads.

I have never heard anyone say a word in the way that woman said that word
this morning. What was her tone? Condemning?

In her blue commando, she pointed right at me (without ever seeing me)
and said, “Us and our cigarettes...”

There were two packs of Pyramid Reds,
three packs of Marlboro 100s,
a trendy girl's white knitted cap with a zebra print bow attached,
and a banana flavored ****** scattered across Drew's dashboard.
I met him at Delta,
the restaurant where he worked,
which was more nursing home than modern sock hop.
He lit up,
told me we were bringing denim jackets back,
and then dragged me to pick up a bird feeder for his mom.
"How is um-****, what's her name, rahhh...Rachel?
he asked two stoplights into our journey,

"She's really good, man. Things are just going swimmingly."

"She wants my nuts."
Drew thought every girl wanted his nuts.
It had become a regular catch phrase.
While it was his ritual to begin our talks
inquiring about my girlfriend,
it was mine to ask what the number
of ladies he had slept with was up to.

"Oh, I'm not for sure, baby. Let's see, there were twelve
at the restaurant so far this year-"

"Twelve?"

"Yeah," he said grinning,"my ******* managers had to give me a
talk."

"They gave you a talk for having a bomb *** life?"

"Not exactly. They were telling me to lay off the underage ones.
Lawsuits and **** like that."

"Awesome."
Just then some hefty white woman
with her hair in a bun ran a stop sign and
cut in front of Drew,
he didn't swear,
nor did the jackassery interrupt his flow,
he simply threw up a hard *******,
and continued forward.

"The total is definitely over thirty. Thirty, thirty-five,
somewhere in there."

We stopped at one of those breakfast chains,
that synthesize the ancient all-night diners
of American mythos.
Two for the smoking section,
and we were placed in a corner,
across from a burnt out
workingman,
who smelled of **** and aggression.
Drew chain smoked,
while we both burned through cup
after cup of coffee.
Drew had ****** two of the waitresses
that were on duty,
one came by and chitty-chatted with him.
Her name was Beth.
Someone broke her nose when she was seven,
she had a fella who was a waiter there as well,
both talked to Drew like he was a cousin or
an old high school friend.
Our waitress had blonde hair.
She was twenty-four,
but raising her sister's ******* child,
and supporting her mother on
tips was cutting lines into her
tiny face.
Drew was talking smooth to her,
no doubt he slept with her before the
end of the week.
When she left he said,
"Isn't she sweet?
She's a ******* sweetheart.
Do you think I gotta chance with her?"

"Yeah, man. You're being a real pro."

"I thought so," he said as he took a deep inhale,
then let the smoke glide between his smiling teeth.

Drew waged a political war that lasted 10 cups of coffee
and one pack of cigarettes.
The first casualty was the ******* that drive 350s and don't
have a hitch.
The second was the wealthy.
Glen Beck.
Capitalism.
American ignorance mistaken as patriotism.
Needless to say,
we got along wonderfully.

We talked of old times,
like a couple of old guys,
and I was surprised at how distance
had shaped our views so similarly.

"You're lucky, man. You got yourself a nice girl, all settled n' ****.
All I got is ******. I just **** them, they fall in love,
and I put 'em in their place and go to the next one.
It's ******* sad."

"It's not sad, you just haven't found the right lady, I suppose," I said trying to make him feel lighter.

"Nah, I probably already met her, and just ****** her.
I don't even respect the girls I sleep with enough to
take them back to my place. Most of them I **** behind Delta,
a couple of times by that Walgreens off Kickapoo, Wal-Mart,
Denny's, um **** even behind that Petopia store."

"Behind Petopia? That needs to be the name of your book."

I thought I'd quit smoking
to be a better woman..
My mother always told me
it wasn't something pretty girls did..
until about three beers in
when she would ask to borrow a light
and say,
"It's great that you think that shirt is flattering,
but maybe a size up would be more.. comfortable."
And I thought I'd quit smoking
to be a better lover..
Because it "wasn't ****" to keep a lighter
in the back pocket of my jeans,
and it "gave off the wrong vibe about me"
and I always tasted like smoke..
Then, I thought I'd quit smoking
to be a better person, I guess..
Because I moved to the suburbs,
made friends with other moms,
who got wine drunk on Tuesdays,
and talked about nail salons,
playdates,
and brunch.
So I thought I'd quit smoking
to live longer, they said.
Because the warning was printed
and the science was in..
and the only thing,
they said for certain,
was that cigarettes killed.
But my mother found new criticisms,
and that boy left anyway,
The suburbs were terrible
and people I loved died regardless.
So, I realized,
**** that.
and opened a new pack.

It ***** with me
People not ******* with me
I ask strangers for friendship
They tell me to get ******

My friends and I
Hop in the car
We will share a night
We will have different ideas about

We go to the gas station
They accidentally buy the wrong cigarettes
They got lites
I wanted 100s
The fumes made a spark a bad idea anyway

We go to get fast food
I accidentally buy the wrong food
I got a quarter pounder
They wanted a double quarter pounder
Their fumes would've filled up my car anyway

Sitting in the parking lot
I'm not satisfied with this spot
But I stay here
Because of all the other cars already parked
Dictating where I must go
And then remain
In idle
Fuming

They're finished eating
As I'm finished breathing
We go to the movies
Where the art transports me into a world of relation
But the lights bring me back
To a room where all the seats had been taken
So I had to sit in the front
And the vulnerable emotions that felt so important
I seek to hide from the rest of the patrons
Who'll laugh at me for feeling something
As the fumes of film escape my nose

We go to my house
To smoke some ***
It's another parking lot
But I prefer comfort to anxiety
When the fumes obstruct my vision of the people around me
Who are trashing my home
The demolition team becomes company
They'll always be here
No matter what
The wrecking ball changes
Machinery always being improved
Enthusiasm always being renewed
New personnel I can always recruit
Yet nothing ever changes

Once I recovered myself
Once I discovered myself
I drove back to my friend's house
Thinking we'd catch up on lost time
Or maybe he'd beat the **** out of me
I remember wondering how it had come to that
I remember wondering if I deserved it
I remember wondering if anyone could save me
From a life of no mortal danger
Only the danger of mortality
And the idea of being here on Earth throughout
Where people don't **** with me
Because the people I ****
Look too ******* similar to me
Yet when I ask strangers for friendship
They tell me to get ******

I step into my bathtub, my blue skin steaming as it hits the water,
hoping its hot enough to sear off the ***** feeling your touch left,
but god knows I’ve tried so many times and I still can’t peel back my
pruned skin afterwards to reveal the innocence I once wore,

I stay up until I physically can’t. I try to focus on the constant taste of ***** or blood in my mouth at night to keep my mind from bringing back the phantom scent of lukewarm beer and menthol cigarettes when I close my eyes.

My head is flooding (I think you’re the reason I only ever drink liquor, but I know you’re the reason I scowl at people who smoke Newport 100s) I am disgusted- No. I am disgusting, you made me disgusting.

I can’t let go of this fear of no control, because when you held power you pushed my limits far past their breaking point and even then I was too weak, too weak to say no, too afraid I’d be the one condemned.

You eradicated every rule and broke me and it’***** me harder now than ever, because the dust rose after you leveled me.

Now I can see you as the monster you are, now I just wish I was numb.

- S.G.

I WILL
step unsteadily, inhale exhale cigarette 100s
dance through the smoke and make love to the starry night
dream of sending a part of my body to you
write letters, admire van gogh
get lost in window reflections, get lost in myself
imagine tendrils of your hair on the soft red pillow
pay for love, pay with my blood my heart
give my soul if it remains in tact
be your vessel, please fill me up
love you through photos until you love me again
forget the past, prepare for the future
hope for a future
try try try
promise

Bad boys don't always come wrapped in leather jackets and cigarette smoke
But the scent of your Newport 100s stayed in my hair for weeks and weeks
And I scrubbed and scrubbed
And it didn't come out
It wouldn't come out
I remember your breath but not like yesterday
I wish your *****-stained lips had been on mine yesterday
I wish I didn't strain to remember
I wish I didn't beg to forget.
Last night I found myself smiling at the thought of your touch
I pinched myself
SNAP OUT OF IT WAKE UP NO NO NO
Reminding myself of the marks you left is worse than when you actually left
I'd like to think you were my knight in shining armor
But your armor was stolen and your knighthood was feigned and I'm just as dumb as the girls in fairytales for ever believing otherwise
You called me your butterfly
I never expected you to destroy my wings and leave me stranded
Your scar is still there, right there on my cheek, did you ever notice?
Did you ever see the others?
Did you ever care to look?
Your father never taught you how to treat a lady
Your mother never let you see her cry
And I never saw what was coming until it was too late right in my face no way to dodge or run or scream or get away
I wish I had gotten away
I wish I had known that not all bad boys own motorcycles and not all bad boys sneer and not all bad boys look like bad boys at all
Because you were a bad boy
And I still can't believe it.

He slaps down
A ten dollar bill
Mutters "Marlboro 100s."
I set down
A chocolate bar
And give the cashier two dollars.
He looks so unhappy
So I ask why.
"addiction,
Little girl.
I've tried pulling myself away
From her-"
And he takes a deep breath
"cigarettes.
But they pull me back in.
A word from the wise..
Never do something too much,
Even if it's just for the
'fun' of it.
That's how addiction drags you in."
He lights up in the store
And gets kicked out,
I look at my candy bar.

rite aid was out of maverick red 100s;
they only had shorts.
i had to buy a pack of newports
and the thought of shedding you
made me tremble as i slid my card.
yes, i switched from your menthols
back to my reds and yes, i kept your brand.

the other day i walked into my room
and the scent of cigarettes took me back,
back to the times of us sharing cigarette
after cigarette and i began to cry.
i called my therapist but she didn’t pick up.

the thought of quitting smoking crosses my mind
on at least a weekly basis, but i refuse to let you
ruin an agent of death i held in my hand
even before you came along.
i will not stop and i will continue to shed
the strongest tears for you.

theyre writing songs about me
but i cant give them what they want
i know how to stay solo now
stop thinking about me
because everytime you do, i feel it
"how is it being god?"
please dont ask, dont make me answer
at the same time my pen dies
i lose 2 friends, a ride-or-die, and my mind
you could have kissed me over and over
but you screamed and turned away
and now your echoes are inside me
and i wonder why you couldnt be perfect
and why no one else was either
thats why theres just me
i cant be sad, only accepting
so please do the same
and lets meet up and smoke a cigarette
its on me, newport 100s

"Ultimas Palabras"

A new American revolution has begun,
Not against the forces of a colonial kingdom
But a rebellion against an oppressor that has risen among us,
It is not a foreign invasion we have to fear,
Rather the threat of a force within our nation
That has usurped what was once a dream of having the greatest democracy ever known to man,
We now live in a world where the population has grown exponentially,
And the planet is running out of resources to sustain us all,
We in the inner-city and those struggling in the suburban ghettos may not realize it yet,
But make no mistake,
The people who control the technology and run every enterprise that makes up our world,
Have seen this coming for a long time,
The ideas of renewable energy,
Global warming,
The idea of collectively working,
Were purposefully bought out, derailed, demonized, or corrupted,
In favor of an economic structure designed by a monetary caste system,
In a desperate attempt to convince us that we need to maintain that extravagant existence,
They've pretended we might share in their dream,
That we can justify any inhumanity in its name,
Out of this blind ignorance was born the curse of slavery,
Many of the founders of this nation were themselves Masons,
That is not a Left wing or Right wing conspiracy theory,
It is a widely known and accepted fact,
So then explain to me how a nation founded by men,
Who not only understood the long and complicated history of Europe,
But also that of Africa,
Could permeate such a lie in convincing the American public,
That one race of men was superior and one inferior,
When in fact we know that all the early men,
The men who created civilization and every aspect of what we see today,
The foundation of all human life,
Were from Africa,
The greatest cowardice of course came not with slavery itself,
Unfortunately,
But with the excuses for slavery,
For if America had been as brave as the Roman Empire and all other empires that have come after her,
And claimed "No, we were just stronger and that's why we took you",
Then when slavery was over racism would've probably followed in suit,
But instead it was the social lie,
The religious lie that was told,
That stayed in the mind of people,
That seperated one human being from another,
In order to distract us from the issues of class and freedom,
They created issues around religion and race to dominate the world for centuries to come,
Some claim that they respect that they respect the culture of life in this country,
They cry out for indignity of children that are slaughtered before they are born,
But God has not penetrated their souls,
For they have no empathy,
Nothing in their cold hearts for the 100s of 1,000s of lives we have taken in our wars overseas,
For that which they call "collateral damage",
Which the are the burnt and damaged children of the world,
They have no prayers for them,
Only snide commentary on the internet and laughter in their hearts,
And yet you claim to be one with God,
Huh,
We talk about immigration in this country,
Might doesn't make right ladies and gentleman,
It just makes right now,
What we are saying to the rest of the world,
Is one day when America grows weak,
One day when her legions falter,
On the day when her economy crumbles,
China, Russia, Europe, whatever power has arisen,
All you have to do is come here and conquer us in a few military excursions,
And then you too can set up shop here,
And in 100 years you can tell every red-blooded American,
"No, you are an illegal human being,
I am the true citizen,
I have all the rights,
You have no rights",
Maybe you forgot how you got this country,
Maybe you take for granted the blood, the sweat, the tears,
That the people who live in practical serfdom shed everyday,
For we may not run America, but we make America run,
We talk about the Law,
Yet,
How many indignities have been legal in the past?
How many treaties with Native Americans have we broken?
How many international laws have we violated?
And,
Speaking of laws,
How can a corporation be regulated by a government that is funded and controlled by corporations?
How can there be accountability,
For people who see a profit margin above the lives of Americans?
Above the lives of human beings in other countries?
We have taken the soul out ourselves and placed them inside machines,
My words of course,
Will be marginalized, demonized,
In typical fashion,
Anytime you dare to question the power structure they say you hate America,
No, I love this country,
I see its beauty everyday in its people,
And I love it a lot more than those who have abandoned the American worker,
That have chose to exploit and try to take away benefit she has,
Those that attempt to make excuses for every atrocity committed,
In the name of supposed freedom,
Those who demand accountability from everyone,
But offer none themselves,
Who favor contracts over lives,
Who favor invasion and control over organic democracy overseas,
The greatest flaw that any intelligent person has is to think they're smarter than everyone else,
And so the government has planted its spies amongst us,
We have planted our spies among them,
They have infiltrated every branch of the American government,
They have retrieved names, data, hard numbers,
The paper trail that will expose those that truly control this country,
Those that control the political parties,
Those that control the oil industry,
The energy,
Those that stand behind the companies faceless,
Whose names have never been revealed,
Until tod.. [GUNSHOT]

wAKing UP
Next>> to you
In~   hale 》breathe. you. IN
you,.you,.....your ten《so soft》der skin
how it hasn't felt
quite. like. this.
so en>twin>>ed
so right, right, right
as if we've held. _  that  _  space
100s of;... times.
wh\  is\ per\ s. S. s. about our Iives
tra》》cing your arm
KiSSing your s  p  i n   e
such peaceful moments
losing-the-time
touching like this,...
...my fa vore ite
& it's as if We'VE BEEN here
be, {some other life} fore
so ~at~ease~
...in. your. arms.
I suppose;,...
it's  //like//
,.... *home

We are the teens who jump to conclusions who smash beer in the street, walk fast and try to soothe ourselves with ***** water

We are the teens who cry for a song feeling alone but surrounded by people
Who replace hurt with *** and hide our pain by waiting until maybe finally something good happens

We are the teens who go home every day and miss everyone who made our life worth living

We are the loud *** teens who smoke and drink and get 100s on tests and love themselves and are happy about it

We are the teens who get gelato and are homies with our host families and jump in with our clothes on

We are the teens who look at the waves and the height and think the wind blowing is beautiful

We are the teens who overuse the word love because we lack it in our lives

We are the teens who have to give it to each other because maybe not everyone loves us the way we want them to

Maybe that’s why we don’t love the people who want us to

It's a good thing we named most of the dinosaurs 100 years ago when we were all into mythology and speaking Latin.

If we just had just learned about dinosaurs now and had to name 100s, there'd be a Heckin Chonkosaurus and a Northern Thicc Scaleyboi.

Gone asiatic, never look back kid
Tattoo gun fires, hard drive rewire,
wire splice space shift
Grabbing hot pans to get a grip
Black coffee goes drip drip drip
Can't touch that wiskey no more
not even a sip
Stacatto tip, flip, cashier check back track alley cat
Fat rat on the hunt for a *******, let the cheddar slide off
Rough, never soft, Egyptian cotton and musk
Done from dawn until dusk, bust out rustoleum rain drops
Grasshopper hops, and we still spinning
World on collision, course, of course we should be worried
Things are moving quickly but we're still all in a hurry
Take your time and eat lime and don't develop scurvy
Scurry, out from under, cockroach hot dog coach on the VA front lawn, blew his brain off
For what

From the entanglement of odds we arise
From the bounds of possibility we define
A species aware of time, passing the story onward
What goes unheard, how many Einstein kids pick up AK47s daily
How can this be, in the age of air conditioning, throwing away food
No safety net too, just fall through, hitting every branch on the way down
A king with no crown, hurt all the queens who kept him around
Manic train track walk with dogs in the dark, dragging dull railroad steel shards
It comes out hard, like water from a stone
The reality is I can never atone for what I've done
When my brothers needed me I only cared about one
Myself
And I can't blame it on mental health, that's a lie I pull off the shelf often
If I asked him for help he would've helped me
Why couldn't I see
I'm so sorry

Made from lust and greed
How can a memory continue to bleed
Swimming in saddness
Treading dead waters
Drowning again in the depths of your sorrow
Frowning again taking steps towards tomorrow
Wondering now just what is the point
Pondering how I sit at the brink
Ice cubes and a cylinder glass
Miscues and a dwindlers past
Wash them away 100s proof
Slosh them and stay, a bundles a spoof
Mere sight lost and all blurry
Clear as night I'm crossed all slurry
Saying thoughts with no worn remorse
Praying clots a lost souls torn corpse
Suicide always is calling my number
Aside the hallways balling my slumber
An unwoken home build on ashes
By an unspoken poem with blood stained clashes
The pictures are burnt and the pages torn
The scars still hurt a broken heart will never learn
Scream in silence at the voices to come
Dream in violence it's the choices your numb
Venture off in your personal hell
Knowing it's your own mind does you well
Swallow it down and accept your fate
Close your eyes and close the gate
Close the gate on the house you can't escape

I suppose I could've just been honest with you from the start, babe.
I should've agreed whenever you asked if your hands were rough,
or whenever you begged to know if your hair was stringy.
All of your strange imperfections put me under some spell.
It was a casting I didn't want to lose touch with.

However,
the times just never got old with you.
It all added up inside of my cloudy mind,
as long as I had the bottle in one hand
and my 100s in the other.
The taste will always be imprinted on my tongue.

I suppose I could've just told you I never really loved you.
I could've spared you the immense amount of pain,
but instead,
I decided to drag you along the same path
I told myself I'd never go down.

One has to be tough to
be old, but 122 is as
ancient as one can get.

Calment en Francaise,
is calm, as in Calmolive™
skin lubricant for over 100s.

2020 - day 160

Monday, June 8, 2020
6:46 AM

Dissipated selves linger, ghost-like,

suggesting no new motives toward sur
rendering my heart and mind to spiritual,
haunting dreads, from
others interferring as rioters in mobs
so far away as to be
non materially consequential,
immaterial matrickulaters and haters of those
peaceful
stochastic bits of me, extending beyond
my reach,

as I was taught, a man's grip ought not
exceed his grasp.
A man's grasp must extend his reach, as
knowing expands my point,
hold on

do not let go
re
ify me, ifier, ify me, make me hold this truth,
self
evidence, of exceeding complexity phasing out

in an alluvial fan at the bottom of the fall.

❧

Escape velocity, achieved, see the glimmer...

pop. Fear, as false evidence appearing real,
comes clowning into the per
ifery, with haps, suggested I
happen to see a you reflection in me,
touch, eh

weak to strong to breakout, as when
a farmer breaks a dam to loose the flow,
click
electrical and chemical process-easy to imagine,
from now, limenal
information
lingering from ads absorbed for seventy years,

be a man
smoke Camels
be cool, smoke Kools,
be peaceful and green, smoke Salems
be separated from the common filters, smoke
Parliaments with the recessed filter,
for discriminating taste, less tar.

be seen as longer than thy fellow smokers,
by a millimeter, a silly millimeter,
smoke Benson & Hedges 100s.

Spit Redman. Sublimenally, on my shoe.
Three doors, front and back and cuspidor, ha ha ha
-
what's a cuspidor, Grandpa?

Really? In public, in the halls of Congress?
Seems really gross, as in yechy.

Imagine the smell.

❧


A murmuration of sardines, or tiny noseeums, or starlings;
how much data is being fed into
the wee controlers of motion,
using seven degrees of separation
-- there is an algorithm,
boids, minimum distance
match velocity
move to center mass of neighboring seven

interacting as equals, but
do such birds
crap on one another?

Cellular automata, made living thoughts,
if you think life thoughts,
happened with no reason.


--- life is software
Rule 110 for class four cellular automata

in seers see where darkness was and wonder,
what would this reveal outside
the edge between order and chaos?

a phase transition in a heaping scoop of sugar
slipping into my coffee,
seeming to change the taste ... see

Disney-if-ication, drawn from a silly song you
can never un get, once it gets used
metaphorically on a difficult
person who thinks wrong.

❧


Be entertained by the nobel's
jewels...

struggling to overcome, come over, entropification,
bursting into ever
as if
nothing
is real, and we feel it

we, me and my seven touch points

❧


knapping is a step
by
step knack passed along by seeing
and doing,

those who see and do, see more life,

"I came that they might have life, and that,
more abundantly."

Practice, patience makes practice possible.
Once the way is known,
epigenetical throat clearing noises made
the teacher
imagine drinking knowing straight from god
for showing how,

{like those gurus who claim snot is brain juice with gut messages}
to find
edges, between big gap, ligandary leap

speak

foxpeatwogene meme, mimic try

we do get by, thinking past the next imagined by
the mass of enculturated human flesh
eating itself alive, from fears
loosed to drive the heard,
to the edge

Stone knapping, see, this knack my grandpa had
ai ai ai, mustathought that
in code, rule 111,
there were no words we knew how to say
this is the body of knowing,
this is the bubble of mutual being,

this is spaceship earth, coming online, all hands on deck...

pass it on... we are no neutral observants to a realm,
realized long before there were words for
right and wrong, once the purpose
became living to learn to teach,
how to live,
once again, now, this becomes the knowable why, this
is the reason
things are ... at all, balanced
on the edge,
of any universal
reality....

see, we get what we see, it is many levels deeper,
the reason for that, is many plexities deeper,
but

we had to learn to speak your thoughts.

"the same yesterday, the same today,
the same forever, is"
an idea en and in corporating
conservation of energy in its ever dominant position
in opposition to entropy,
in
thus, the good versus evil trope, where death is evil
and living is good...
breaks out from Disney-ified,
ifery-wishery
trippy tropes to insert non-player observers who steer,
pilot,
infantile minds making distinction
of sharp and dull
"between soul and spirit", judge the message as the messenger,
in a word,
by being a word,
two-d between tweened being, double minded, as an

egg the size of the bubble of knowns, think:

deep space looks like those big detergent and corn syrup
bubbles sweeping in a dance following your

seeing eye, hearing words now, where, a while ago
you could have seen that guy
on the beach making bubbles so huge they swallowed us

whole
and here is the edge of reality and what we imagine.
Word worlds of pure, merest of mere, in formative goo

see, do, see doe, see, see, see
spot
run, fetch the thread we started with, aha

edges, once past, appear as threads in future patterns...

the day is fast approaching
when we,
the we who find our names in the book life keeps,
we bet on reason being balance...
we cheated, knowing we won,
having read the book before the movie,
and we became,
we trans-formed our mind, as if oil left a film
of frictionless space
we fit right in
between the inner and outer bubble, see, look,
that big bubble walled in Dawn and Kayro,
we watched the bubble man make
{beach bubblers are faithful to Dawn, for the Exxon Valdez ads}
that bubble
is two conforming bubbles, one in the other, and
in
between the walls of those bubbles, is water,
liquid flowing water,

I think life is like that out where order and chaos phase
shift at a human scale, see
on the surface of the earth, amidst coast chapparel in spring,
I am watching life being done on all sides,
counting my center as one point,
I have seven points to project perception through,

this may be the quantum foam of universes, seen up close,
and we effect slight sight tugs or shoves and a neuronic
approach to create
an ifity network of knowns,
anonymous in ever after,
but a happy place.
My point in being.

It has life every where you can imagine looking.
It was here when I got here,
so nothing I did deserved this,
this rest of the story,
after the maze, my self evidence flowing into expansive reality never
earned, via service, not my pay for
right usefulness having,
been made of me,
my being
good for something. Having a knack, or a green thumb,
no,
but I was an amusing child.
And
amusing children are assumed good, by the goodness in us,
not the goodness in them,
they are good for nothing but the medicine laughter brings
from a truly happy child.

- perceptron, eh? mebbe exclusive-or gates, xor-gates,
- support vector machines favor Feynman's series 4 NANDs
- time travel back into favor, default mode, on a grand scale
- neuronic capital interest come
- pounding
- on your door
- think harder, pay attention, once the rest is known,
- no body forgets the point in getting there.

Right, activate knowledge wholistic algorithm, give Turing his due.

❧



We alter the unfolding of the universe, somebody said,
in the per-ifery of possible attention
holding places,
handles for grasping and gripping to hold still,
a
moment,
con sci useness, settles into sublime wonder, sound familiars
shhoo sue-serated edge, silken webbing
slipping through
-- look, see that lizard's blue belly? did you? I took a picture,
but the optical translation chip can't see that color.

pines whisper selah.
❧

Richard Feynman, bongo player in the band that built
the most famous mushroomcloud in history,
suggested to my mind, in a book, surely
you're joking, mr. feynman,
a sort of time travel information can handle,
a redo before next result
sort of action
and
that there may well be time to start all over.
He thought a series of not-and gates in the flow of time
might --- no
this was me meandering, NAND gates in threes

those were what I was thinking while Rupert Murdoch
layed out a priori assumptions, re
things in threes, spiritually having a point...

for me to ponder, remotely, and ... drift along in wonder ifity,
if the rest is not the perfect reason for growing old in 2020,
and not earlier... I don't know what is.

Here i am 16 and smoking a cigarette
Here i am not addicted but reliant
Here i am smoking because there is nothing else to do
I cut bit that doesnt last
Smoking seems to last longer but still it hurts
The pain is real
But so is this cigarette
Newport platinums or l&m menthol 100s
My mom doesnt know but doesnt she
How else do you explain whole cigarettes dissapearing
Does she think she think she smokes that much
How about lighters dissapearing just misplacing them