I've never met a ******* like this.
My ex would complain of my *** tasting
like battery acid and would always put on a pouty child's face when
her *****
was the strongest I've ever had to trek into.
Yet I would make her *** numerous times because I thought I loved her
and could see past superficial
     c r a p.

but this new girl,
***, so young but ***** as though she's a seasoned pornstar. She'll dislocate her throat like a boa and engulf my **** and as I *** and spurt into it she inhales it and then gently moves to my *****
and caresses my **** then kisses all over my thighs and says "thank you daddy, that was yummy"

She does this multiple times a day. some girls are fakers, this isn't one.
I'm looking forward
to the pissplay tomorrow

love is just a chemical reaction in the brain,

and *** dolls
are purely silicone.

humans are 90% water,
and 10% carbon.


scratch tickets usually yield bad results.


soda is bad for the kidneys.

exercise hurts the back after prolonged periods.

elderly men are going to die.


young men are going to die.


women are going to die.


this ant is going to die,


and he never knew love

I'm grateful to be an artist.
As difficult as this life gets, to the point of grappling daily with the prospect of suicide, at least I know what my purpose is.
Most die never having known what they were supposed to do or why they were born.
Let your art be your
guide, and savior. It's the only
One that listens.

Feel like I'm floating. People talk but I don't really hear. Bought a cat cause I'm lonely but now I despise it because it needs.

Windows have frost, maybe vitamin deficient. Jack it to memories of a faceless  beauty on a night that cared so long ago.

But now I'm haunted. I'll see it soon. Just wish I could be alone; truly, truly, truly alone.  Where no light shines but withers

I wish my name was Ryan or chase and I had no hobbies or interests outside of smashing hoes and the gym.
I wish I could just eat Panera everyday and drink with my bros and go to Peru with my daddy's money. I wish I had all the connections and sure-set entrance into the firm
I wish I could meet some newage ***** named McKayla with a flower sleeve who listens to imagine dragons and Bobby eilish and have some kids. I wish she'd cheat on me with Kevin and take all my money and then divorce me and accuse me of **** and send me to prison where I get ***** too. I wish my sons grew up to be junkies and overdosed on fentanyl. I wish my country became some culturless ******* devoid of value and meaning and was a consumerist nightmare and I worked like a peon for a bleak future. I wish I knew how to make spaghetti. I'm a ******. I wish I was gay amd cared about Taylor swift or popular media. I wish I had a loaded gun so I could go to the gun range like a normal sane practioner of the second amendment. I wish I could be god and make rainbows. I will stop now. It's so boring
Lol lol lol lol lol

dirt under the nails   a little blood on the lips a little sunshine in the pit a little shadow in the room a little coffeee in the cup a little echo in the chamber a little buzzing from the fridge a little leaning in the stick man a little understanding in the chalkboard flower a little missing from the brain
a little missing from the jet stream
a little missing from the patched up
valve
a little missing from thesentence
a little missing from the period
a little missing from the bleach jug
a little missing from the puzzle  alittle missing from the moon
a little missing
from the tree branch
a little missing from the fire fly
a little missing from the teacher and nun
a little missing from the daycare kid
a little missing from the afternoon sandwich
a little missing from the strawberry in the dawn
a little missing
from the terminal-cancer prayer
a little missing
from the
dog in the grocery store
a little missing from
the shade in the heat
a little missing from the crying in the ward
a little missing from everything
but nothing was ever whole to begin with

bro I just met you why do you need my number?

wanna jam sometime I think.

k after work then probably.

cool man, bro.

text in my pocket, beeping while slicing beef.

I don't want to watch a movie with you and hold your hand bro,

sad face,
smiley with a syringe filled with *****.

bro.

bro.
bro hold me, bro come watch the sunset.


I swallow a grape as I walk along the moon.

beeping more,
beeping more, more sliced beef

****** lady
I spit on,
I spit on you.

bro,
dude, baby , guy , friendo,

flip a coin.

not your lucky day.


warheads were the **** back in the day
yep

always a nice little resolve at the end to make  the prior  words have more context and make up for the drivel

               1 egg here
another   in the garage  behind   your trophies

1 kid in the tub

the other  in the grave,
and the other missing its head.

forward thinker
progressive -
savior of a nation called peru. mosquito dusk    woman  of   glass-shrapnel

receipts?  on the
desk,
forward now.  I have work today at 8.
how are you?

"good"

park it  and fill it    with all your hate--  tie the knot an extra time  so it  looks good  when it

splats

glory glory
glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory glory gloria gloria gloria Gloria gloria gloria gloria gloria gloria gloria gloria glora gorilla gorrila gorrilaa gorilla geurilla geurilla guerilla geurilla geruilla warfare crouching behind a bush in the alaskan heat as the predator
makes it **** -- an albatross swoops by for the   scraps a little while later .
  still and on  stilts, Hi- C and tasty,  show biz

I'm sorry
I don't care
if it;s prejudiced
or presumptive,


if you're younger than 18,
and haven't worked

or produced sweat under your pit
whilst
splashing grease on your arm
and handing a bag
to an old lady,

and driving a broken down car
which you have to jump every morning,

and wearing old black rags
that don't fit the *** well,


I don't care what you have to say.

all your work will be 'love'
and or issues with 'society'
and how it's done you wrong.


you need to die a little
before you can expect to write
something of substance.

so start now

i remember going to sizzler
with my mom and my 2 brothers
and some random guy and lady---

all at the table.


and she'd load up the tray with dinosaur nuggets
and cabbage
and parsely
and split pea soup

and swirly icecream

of which you could fill a bucket and

only get a light scolding from the waitress with her 4 freckles.


i'd eat that stuff,
and there'd be faint music and clinking

and dishes breaking
and children laughing and crying

and burps from old people

and farting
from overzealous husbands
who would proclaim flatulance as being a sign of
gratitude for one's meal in
China


if you've ever heard.



and the carpet would be drenched in animal ****

and the air
thick will fillaments
and greasy dust--

and my eyes would water,
and the memories
would be a haze,


but it was always rather pleasant.


and the best part was the red ballon with the 'S' logo.

and it'd pop usually upon arriving home after you sit on it or something like that---


Then many years later
i went back with a friend
and his dad who happened to be pretty drunk
and we were listening to Lennon's "Wheels Go By''


and the waiter
was younger and better looking and had less disdain--

and i just got chocolate icecream.


but there were no swirls.

the swirles were long gone.

dead even.

dead .


and then i flicked my ciggarette into an immaculate ashtray

and a few ladies
talked about the lunch specials.

and my stomach gurgled
and we went
to ihop instead.

Just told the person who'd Id cradle in my arms and whose head I'd rub and whose tears I'd wipe when she was having a panic attack to go
**** herself.
Just told the person whose stomach I would kiss and whose thighs I would caress up and down that she's a fat ugly *****.
Told the one person I'd confide in all my insecurities and whose sense of humor would have me laughing hysterically to never talk to me again.

It's all warfare, and there are no victors.
I'll just collect the remnants of my happiness and try to walk stoicly into the sun

The day is long in its nothing
I sit with a head wide open

The ants torment
the remains of
a little girl in the kitchen

The feathers fall along the trail

The pit is deep and so is the
longing

I;ve bought so much junk on EBAY lately and it's ridiculous and pretty much an addiction at this point.

just books I occasionally flip thru,
and exercise equipment I keep in the corner,

and shirts I toss away when I get embarrassed by the design,

and shoes I find to be too adolescent,

and hats that don't fit right,

and knives I keep folded up in a box,

and posters that
are crumpled and uglier than their represented pictures,


and tables built of recycled match sticks,

and brides that won't stop complaining,

and illegals who just run away after I open the container.

it's an addiction indeed, but I've

run out of money
so I'm cured

the trickling



of a cool mist


spills on my forehead----


and the evaporated *****
crusty on my elbows

begin to flake into the ventilation system.



some girl is shaving her arms on the 2nd story,

and beneath her is an ostrich
screaming at an elephant
for its last spoonful of monkey meat.


a man with a hydro-head sips lemonade in the shadows
and jerks himself while old grannies clutch pearls.

a dog
eats an alligator on the 4th of july after watching cartoons in the afternoon.

a priest is being mollested
by a todler

and a muslim is kissing the feet of an abusive female.

Trump is eating cornflakes
while hillary


is reading her emails and arranging for pizza parties.


obama is a limo getting a blow-job from Trudeau,


and Africa is sending foreign aid to the US to quell the ZIKA outbreak.

Reagan is resurrected.

and papa is sitting in an oven getting deloused with Cyclon-B.

meanwhile
lucifer
is knitting a sweater in the hamptons while the kardashians eat strawberries from a **** bowl

and everything gets washed away and becomes a steely white

as the scent of cinnamon
flows through your nostrils

and your blood is injected with happiness forevermore

bleak


and raw.



the waters strip the fur
from the creature
as it floats through the ravine.


a fly
lands on a sardine sitting on a porch
in portugal
and the man swats it away
with great ferocity.

i'm outside
watching
the fireworks

and the bleeding of my gums
results in a splitting headache.

gunshots are heard--

and voices
are drowned
by the whizzing of the train

and the breathing of the dead ladies in the banquet hall.

screeching armies
make their way through the castle

and the ****** is extraordinary--
and they become willing wives.

and the offspring are plentiful.

and the roses are vibrant and luscious in the spring sunset.


but despite all this,

i still sit in my chair

and the walls
bleed a pale yellow into my soul
and endlessly
endeavor to erase me for
eternity.

bad haircut, just kinda awful and hideous and homely.

for once in my life
i was contender,

then the door broke my nose
and i was left with a stich and lisp.


god knows what i'd be without you,

a liar

and more self-assured.

gotta get out of this place.

a day in the life.

break on thru.

this is the end,
hey hey mama
said the way you move
,
shes buying
a stairway
to hell in my thoughts.


tiptoe thru the tulips and pick your poison.

next week i'm writing trump and i'm sending him a $5 bill and a framed portrait with my signature so he can hang it on his wall
and feel good about himself.

the world is great its just the way you feel about it.

so feel great
,it's that easy

there's a syringe filled to the dropper with ******

and a blackened spoon on the kitchen counter.

he was in the bathroom shooting up and left this one for later
but in a daze
forgot to consider
that others would be home early.

i didn't care.

i've stepped on many ***** syringes before
and as a child
poked myself by accident
a few times as well.

i don't have hepatitis luckily
but to me
it was just an annoying prickly receptacle

full of enough intoxicant to be
lethal to any person
without a tolerance.

i just banged on the door.

''hey if i see this ****
again
i'll break your arm''.

i heard faint mumble from within
and left him to get high.

he was going to leave within the next day or two any way.

must be fun,
and millions are having fun,


why bother them?

they know what they're doing
it's just
the lack of respect i don't appreciate.

and the fact that they get to **** themselves in plain view
while
we die
oftentimes in slower subtler ways

I'm gonna start using women like objects, I'm really over it.
I get ghosted by the women I want and who proclaim will "never leave 💕💕💕" and that I'm their "one and only 🥺🖤" Months lost. This is a world of sociopaths, so what's one more snake

I'm getting what I want now

i remember someone
long ago

asked me why

i liked to walk on the sidewalk
while wearing
an armani
suit in the 93 degree heat.

i told him
,

that sometimes
your style
is a just your manner
of thinking of things

and that oftentimes
your confusion
is just measurement
or volume
of what really is upsetting your past self in a dimension of

satisfactory
fortitude.

then he nodded
and the next
day i saw him in the same armani suit in the
93 degree
heat
telling
all the other people the same thing
and they started wearing their own armani
suits
but it stopped being
93 degrees outside
and more like a cool
23
centigrade

today was an alright day.


i just don't really feel like writing about it.


work is fine

but it's only a story you can tell once,
and it's just
i don't even remember any of it.


i go in for my hours and come out
and can't recall a single thing said.

just mumbling and a few faint faces and the next week schedule and other

tedious adjustments
and the fact the mop
is broken

and the dust pan
tilts to the side

and there's never any fresh meat-

but plenty of onion,

and all girls quit in 4 days after they discover that it's indeed ***** and
their acrylic nails aren't suited to scrubbing
tiling and grime.


and my sweat drips
and it still sticks to me.
and i walk home
and flip off ******* driving too close to me - challenging me for the fact that i even
wake up to this
and go at it
day after day after day

after day

after day.,,


everyone's a sadist   --

and everyone is afraid

myself included

but i still dream of flowers in the rain

I'll take the one on the left.

Just took mushrooms

All music seems pointless
So does this poem

Words of wisdom
If you're standing afar.
Someday the Earth
Will die
And so will you
Smiling in its embrace :)

crackhead hours .
real crackhead hours.
  got my unemployment check ,
  1400 a week
.   Im rich biaattcchh ,  
  
  crackhead hours, dawning on me at 5:21am. my favorite hour.
    I sleep when the tide rolls on the beach and swallows up the baby tutrles.
  i sleep
when the last ****** sighs into a pillow  on the  edge of the abyss awaiting oblivion  like green smoke.
  i sleep
when it's too late for the dove to die.
i sleep when my eyes burn and the retinas dance around me.
i sleep when it's late,
   i sleep when it feels like it's the same as dreaming and not
breathing

I was nuzzled in her chest, crying, sorry for what had become of our relationship and for what ultimately ended it.
She rubbed my back
and consoled me a bit
and asked if I wanted something for the road.
I declined.
As I walked away into the afternoon light
to my car
I felt regret and a looming despair of which I was justified
in sensing since that night would become absolute hell.
hopelessness and pure self-pity
fractured self-esteem.
razor cuts and more tears, and wallowing in a melancholic feedback loop reminiscing of good times which really weren't all that good.

then I opened the app and I saw her holding hands with some
nerd,
posted just after I left - that was really ******.
I thought I was ******, I guess just slightly

There's nothing better than opening your phone
or notifications and seeing multiple messages from girls
infinitely more attractive and sweet than your
ex

I don't care at this point, she was a selfish cow, indignant and refused to change,
so I had to make the change.

The only issue with all this is getting anything
done when
your **** is constantly getting
******

A loser is someone who wakes up to an alarm
& drives to a place they hate doing things around people they hate
for multiple hours a day
to only make a pittance and live a sub standard life after the fact.
It's better to withdraw;
I've been the loser countless times before, but you can't lose at something you don't even choose to engage in

& They made it easy
when doing nothing feels like a revolutionary act
I no longer care what happens
1,000,000 years of human evolution & survival & they have us
so afraid

i ate
an apple


while the hamster

began swinginf from thte branch


and licking

juices
from the cat
droppings which
formed
an impressive pile in the corner of the room.


the door
swings open

and man
yells
for the broom
so as to bash someone on the head---

usually
a random child who would spit gum on the lawn.


laughter is evident
and the breeze is cool
and the sun
is healing

and the clouds

are soaring
over equador.


i eat 6 chicken fingers

and 4 burgers
with a glass of juice.

ciggarettes are $10 now
so **** that.


and the fat lady outside with her little dog alwyas on the phone and always
glaring at me
will one day be vaporized by an incoming meteor shower which
specifically targets
her hut on the culdesac.


worms
are eating my ulcers

and the sweat
quenches my thirst

when sometimes
i'd rather be out talking to myself in peace

because

no one bothers a crazy person
especially when they're just mere centimeters
away

and ready to ****

I have some deep seated manic issues   I legimitately wanted to **** myself 2 days ago, now I feel amazing
then it'll be the same
tomorrow


I'm living in this moment right now though.


love is easy when you re loved

at least in your own head

There are so many potentially great poems,

but the problem is they try to formalize their
pain,

as though a cancer patient upon receiving radiation,
or some car
crash victim
having a hose stuffed up his ***
and having his left foot ampuated is going to
to be formal.

sure there is dignity and composure,
but not formality,
and certainly not nicety.


you're vulnerable,
you're hurt-

let yourself scream,

let yourself out.

i once
paid
for a *****


and it was a two for one special-

and she took an additional $40 from my wallet
of which i forgot to subract from the $160 total.

it was after a concert.

and i drove home
then walked a little bit around a pond and fed a few ducks and it smelled from the rotting goldfish
and the old mexican lady washing her clothes with that familiar
stench wafting around.

i was tired.
but i was buzzed for a good 3 days, and i just don't know what i'm even doing anymore
or what this all means.

but the fact that i remembered it must mean something-

maybe that i should try it again,

or at least just buy a doll on amazon for 350 dollars and a new pair of shoes
for
church on saturday
because this other pair is getting kind of ratty.

but really
my head itches sometimes and these people outside want to **** me

and the earthquake
stole my children from me when i was barren for so many years.

years wasted

2 candles here and a child's liver
A glass of glue and dry *****. Grindr bears saying hi now and you better tell them no I'm watching TV with my cancelled subscription and that's not good enougj. And do people even still read poetry besides edgy girls?
Will I still be unhappy after I've vomited 12567 times?  
A d will I still clutch the hand that insists on gagging me a d suffocating me whilst I count clouds?
I will still be dead and rotting in a dirt mound and so will you, but you pretend you won't. Instead we insist on occupying ourselves with mindless consumerism and shallow entertainment until we can't think anymore. I'm part of the problem, im distracting from what should be the goal, to shake you violently into convulsion until the spirit fills you and spits you into the abyss where there
are no more habits or fears. Just a state of being. Like clay half molded,
Neither happy nor Content, just clay. just.        clay

Synthetic lawn
radioactive pine
With a retractable garden hose
& A 1 car garage
Offset
With pearly laminate
and a bare wooden gate

The doorbell is now
A zoom monitor
& The dog
Is in its plastic hut in the corridor
While
The child in the upper window
plays Minecraft
Alone with the halls silent with decadent dust

They turned my childhood home into a mausaleum,
But the truth is, it was no better then.
We were still suffocating in the immense nothing

Sitting dead with a headache I read 5 pages of a biography then put it down to rest my demented tik tok addled brain

I scroll through pics of creatures barely human, frothing and I then I revert to a fetal position;
Whilst sitting i receive a call from a stranger I knew 15 years ago and say happy birthday.
My day kinda drifts after this into a damp bag and I pretend to be someone special and good when my heart stops counting in bursts of 10
And 11 and the dawn swirls into nothing

my back hurts and i have no lotion to soothe the pain and alleviate the aches
that crack within the walls
of this treasured
illusion.




pointed
remarks
by dicators
slip from the tongues of squirrelly
amusements
and feast
within the belly of hanged entrails.



the last of us
are starving
and the few
that have
remained
will be shot down
like


a gross animal among the astonished herd

got
up yesterday

and took
a ****

straight into a

can of heinz baked
beans

then placed
back into the freezer.

some days down
the line

an acquantence
found the beans
and took a bite
and complimented my culinary ability.


branches
were swining outside
from the coming
hurricane
and few
lizards
rolled underneat the carpet so as to escape the elements
and absorb the warmth.


suzy
is still crazy,

but she died in december.

george is ugly
like a cancerous bat-faced
ectomorph
but has a heart of gold.

larry is just a ***-

and he knows it.


but some nights
i still cuddle
with dawn
and speak to the mermaids that kiss me goodnight
as i stroke myself
to sleep
in a dull
memory
and voided
receipt that is the 'hour of beguilement'.

don't give
no *****
when the ceiling

;
is falling
on top of me.


give no *****
when my lungs
fill with tar.


''have a balogne sandwich.''

''yes. mustard too''
I reply.

but then
why do I always get the crust?

he sits down in the lobby and the tv is playing some show, there are also stacks of magazines on the table
  after about a minute and thumbing through the stations with the remote and eating complimentary breathmints the bearded man with a green neck approaches, and he has jewelry hanging from his nose
"Are you Sebastian?"
he says calmly and nicely
"well yes I am!"
"well okay then, nice to meet you, why don't you have a seat over there"
as he points to a pristine barber shop chair with bright red lapels and that smell of lavender.
Next to the seat is a petite girl with a bettie page hair do and traditional rose tattoos on her hips
and floral designs lining her shoulder, you barely notice.
"Okay, we agreed on the yellow
  snake with bubbles to signify your dog's passing correct?"
he says to me
"yes, yes we did"
"Well okay then! Let's get started!"

He starts, and it's the gentlest ***** you've ever felt, and the Joy Division pumping through the speakers sets you at ease.
A mother with her kids and a face tattoo of a dagger strolls in; on her lunch break, she schedules an appointment to have her back scalpeled with the design of a Christmas tree so as to be ironic because she's really a satanist; but it's pagan anyway so no-one cares.

    After about 2 hours, my artist finishes and wraps me with sandwich plastic and rubs hemmoroid cream all over the yellow snake. It's beautiful.
"You sat like a champ! Here's a lolly for you"
it's a green lolly and I **** it; it really tastes good, and I go home and admire my tattoo in the mirror for hours
and talk about it to all my friends who have the same yellow snake. It really makes me feel like I belong

on a tight rope
looking down 16 miles.


the wind blows cold,

and the few people on the other building throw peaches at me-
none stick.


a car drives down below
at 88 miles,

birds fly,
planes fly,
smog.


coughing
losing
hold,

I fall the 16 miles down,


counting every second,

and upon hitting the pavement,
I wake up to my room. It's Tuesday

and I'm tucked in well

breakfast in the afternoon while dancing to a few a songs

from the radio
and the bugs skitter on saliva that sits on the porch,
she
yells.

''TOO LATE''

door slams and a picture falls from the wall and shatters into 17 pieces
leaving other fragments of wood.

I hear cars screeching outside as oil cascades onto the boardwalk.

an old lady is rubbing her thigh
and flicking her neck from the previous hour's injection.

I have yet to watch that show.

some guy wants my number but he has a fiancé and she thinks I look strange in my green overalls.

van gogh was a kind man.

I have got other errands.

my thumb Is protruding and the index still thumps sometimes
from when I sliced a good portion at work--

never compensated.

still walking on hot rocks

and still recycling newspapers.

still eating from tin cans on the dresser that I got for 3 cents in the
1930's.

have yet to read a book I've liked for some time.


still trying to make sense.

still writing.

still breathing and
pretending i'm a messiah.

still awaiting the crucifixion

Ads? Pretty sad, on the one clean place I had.
Makes me feel bad,
Like I lost a friend to death,
Of the slow kind. Eating at his force. Explode. Painted by sheep, because no one is true. Haha

dancing on the freeway
while flipping off the drivers and ******* into someone's yard
whilst eating a
lettuce
wrap.


they swerve around me
and honk
and weave in and out of lanes

and scream

and cry

and throw rotten fruit onto me.


fires erupt in the distance

and several
buildings collapse
into thin dust.


ruins are uncovered
showing the slow ascent of man.

discoveries are made,

then the shots are fired

and hit me in the gut
and temple.

it flings off of my chin
and onto the cement
clicking my toe.


bloods spills out
and i crap myself from the excitement.


the excrement collects into a neat pile.


then the helicopter
fro ma distance shouts at me,
telling me to

''GET ON THE GROUND

AND
TUCK IN YOUR GENITALS''

i comply
.


and the news crew
rolls up and interviews me,

and i spit on the womans face

and she ****
and rrubs her *****
behind a bush in the distance.


and i'm handcuffed
and throw into
a van,


and slowly
ripped apart
by
aligators

as they throw me into a laggoon

and spell
my name wrong
on the urn


and drop me into a boiling vat of lubricant for the elederly.


and then my eyes
close


and death
is slow release


and none of my relevatives
are sitting at the gate

,,


just a few

birds

that form a beautiful V
in the rising dawn sky

I want to run
So far
Into nothing
And bury my eyes
In a dense
   Abyss

The laughing permits
And so does the humming
Step inside yourself
And visualize the dream
Dancers in the dark
Cancer in a sombre heart

A stillborn child when you were
Hopeful
Reminders of a decadent past
Youth and fortune
Love and lust
Starlight
And dust

What remains is
Enough

What's done is
Done
& done

my eyes are heavy

and crusted.

and this coffee
is cold.

she woke me up to too early.

screaming in my ear
and telling me to get a job.

then I just ate potatoes,---

kind of greasy.
no ketchup.

but it's morning,

and i'm smiling.

what a surprise.

''the leaves are green and beautiful.

and there's no snow. and there's birds out here.
like a Disney movie''.

just like a Disney movie.

what has happened to me....
!

losing it all

everyday

every night

every second

every millisecond


every granule of sand

every
balled up fist

every flowing river

every earthquake

every tsunami

every ticking clock
losing it all

losing the spirit

and the color

losing the trust and the understanding

losing the sense
and self-worth

losing the passion
and respect

and the dignity

and gratitude

losing it all  gradually
as the worms
consume

the detritus of life that I so fondly cherished

I sit in the gutter
I sit on the street
I sit on the mud
just below the creek
I ramble in the wind
I row in the stream
I talk to bugs
& eat refried beans
I smile in the morning
I cry in the night
I am only guided by
a flickering light

my money

my watch
my house
my car

my phone

my wallet
my toothbrush my couch my lemons my green grass
my plastic
tub

my plastic hair
my plastic teeth

my blue pool

my black
eyes

my red heart
my green soul

my exoskeleton . my ectomorphic mass.
my balloon filled gut

my bleeding
tongue

my brown shoes . my yellow banana. my $1,000 child slave my
$10,000 hitman

my $1,000,000 white Bengal tiger

my $0.02

conscience

my $0.02 pack of gum

Some dude named "Dust" would always contact her
"Why don't you just block this guy if he's such a nuisance?" I'd say
"He finds ways of contacting me and he keeps bothering me"
"Yeah, but why do you even engage?"
And she would engage working her little thumbs, amused with the dysfunction.
He was a drug user afterall and incredibly manipulative. I'd hear about this guy all the time and how he was supposedly dangerous and had guns. I'd laugh.  I have guns too and am prone to mental instability but I'm not outwardly dramatic in the fashion he is nor do I really make a show.

But alas, a month or two went by and the relationship wasn't working. I wasn't crazy enough
and when that time came she blocked me.
I reached out one time after and there was no response.
Everybody has a choice, she made hers and Dust is still there in her head somewhere.  Don't be a 2nd

I envy those who cry

I only cry when I'm drunk or high.
I just end up laying here lonely and empty in a literal cabin in the woods where I walk to my **** job to work with other miscreants and talk about dull Netflix movies.
I was a child with dreams. I wanted to be a rockstar before I started to hate what it all means. So I just sleep instead.
I sleep without dreaming
I talk to no one.
I don't even hate anymore.
I just sit like a shell and eat my trash and stare outside.
I want none of this
I just want to lay down for good