this is your last goodbye
this is your last note in the sand

your last puff of smoke swirling in the charcoal night air
the last smack of your lip
the last
cube in your drink
the last static frequency absolved from your television,
the last text from your phone
the last sigh from your lung
the last
shirt from your back
the last
laugh from your soul
the last
kiss in the grass,
the last tear as you pull away.
the last promise,
the last excuse,
the last wish,
the last exit.
the last journey to somewhere where the shadows are kind.  last goodbye ,
last  goodbye. it's over

I've lost myself so many times

No words

drain goes down

and so do the crumbs of another crowd, hollowed out in
your heart

This is your job

I think when I say stuff like ''

YEAH WELL
I WORK EVERYDAY,

'CAUSE I'M NOT AN ENTITLED
LITTLE *****--

I DO WHAT I HAVE TO DO!''

it's because
deep down,

I hate my life
so much--
and I'm not fooling anyone.


I thought I at one time was special and could circumvent the pain,


but I've just become a
broken down
wheel
like the rest in the junkyard.

the fight is

leaving me

As I write i feel the humming in my head like a hummingbird pecking fruit. I hear my tinnitus and I hear a running faucet. I hear the distinct sound of nothing and I lay here on my bed with my mesh shorts
I have nothing to say but I've simply reflected on my life quite a bit. I need to make a load of changes. I won't spam poems of despair if I'm not actively making an effort. I have a fair idea how this will all end, but the effort is worthwhile nonetheless.

I have $55
I walk into a grocery store and buy lemons

I walk into a post office and hear hissing

I sold the old stolen bike.

I am a prayer to noone
Battered and bruised but the pain is a reminder of my persistence.

I have moved on from toxic relationships and that has left me with no relationships. Maybe I'm the problem. But I'm not giving up. I'm giving in
To my better self

.,,..,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,..,,,,,,,,,,.,,,­,,,,,,,.,,,,,,,,,,,,..,,,,,,,.........................,,,........­.......,,,,,,,,,,,,,,..................,,,,,,,.............,,,,,,­,.................,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,w,hy,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,A,,m,,,,,,,,,i,,,,,,,,a,lw,a,ys,,,,,,,,,­,d,,rea,m....in,,,,,g,,,,,]]

I don't know where my mind went. At the bus stop at 5am picking up trash and looking at envelopes.
I step on the cracked pavement. Daddy is late today so the flies **** on the pickle.
These words mean absolutely nothing. If only I had a spatula.
Freezing now with an imminent snow storm. One day I'll get what i deserve.
One day I'll look at a dead crow sqaushed in a truck wheel.
one day you'll tell me to sleep so I don't hurt anymore.
I'm the bad guy biting my tongue.
I roll over and pray for dawn,
I sit up in the gray moon
telling her all my secrets because I no longer care if I can
never forget

Let the professionals have their $500 vintage typewriters and Mac book pros in sunlit nooks with chirping birds and glacial water coffee and decadent street humming.

Poetry should be written with red eyes at 3:22am in a stuffy room on a cracked smart phone.
There are no rules actually, but it's how
I manage

I think if this beautiful girl I knew who used to be my first crush. She would give me back massages in class and had beautiful purple eyes. Then one day I asked her out. She said "no" and it hurt me.

Anyway she's been dead for the last 6 months just checked Facebook. I had deleted my Facebook so I didn't know.
****** overdose. 23. Gone.
And what will it all mean.

What will I mean.

I will cut my neck open
And draw on the walls.

I don't care if summer comes.


I dream about flies and maggots.

I *******
Feed The wide     Hole



I dance   on the street
Screaming

Screaming for more

I got a bad ***** she call me Julio
Ridin down the block like Skittles *****
Yuh
Yeet yeet
****** be hatin
Hatorade lil baby
******* mean lil baby?
Skrrrt
Drrty dozen Poppin xannies like a fountain
Cuh cuh
Eskettit
**** a ***** like a ****,  yuh I'm hard
June bugs get the
First of the
Feast

love is in the air

fat
ugly

and smoking

when it's

8.50$ a pack

why?


buying beer
so I don't get hard-liquor
'cause then it's over.


no car-

at least I walk to my JOB sometimes--

paranoid
mainly because I'm the only one foolish enough to actually walk in this heat.


haven't heard from my pal
for going on 2 years now-- I forget why--
just a case of bitterness that festered for too long.

trying to write some music-
but is anything worth doing
if you have to
TRY?

don't we just live to squeeze out as much happiness as we can so
why
bother with something
that's painful?


writing this is sometimes painful

but it's easy and a lot more effective than a song usually.

I'm no good

no good

no good


no god
there is no god-


someday I'll be the happy kid riding my loony tunes bike
for the
1st time.


what a shame to have peaked so early-


it's ok

I will work I will work
I will work
I will work
I will work
I will sleep
I will awake
I will work
I will write some poems
And make some art
And write some music
Some people might like it
Some won't
I will lift weights
I will punch the air
There will be a few women
There will be no children
I will be rich
I can do whatever the **** I want
I eat a salad
I die
It's  october
another person dies
and another
and the tree just stares
and mountain laughs
We all laugh
the fetus on the table laughs

I made a quesadilla
With some anchovies and ham with some eggs waffles and syrup & a glass of chocky milk
My belly is full
& my **** aches
Tomorrow I shall go out fishing in the prairie; my cat
Died and I'm tired of sitting around. It gets heavy in this heart , it gets hot in this
cage
The longer i stand the more I
suffocate

I have to move all these poems somewhere else-
thinking
about having
to drag them one by one,
then deleting them,
then assembling
them and publishing on a website and having them sit

brings me pain.

it's like dragging a ''REMBRANDT'
but the ******* thing is 2,000 pounds.

not worth the effort

I played the guitar on the steps last year
when I tried
to be a friend to you


I played the piano
in the afternoon when I tried to be a good guy

I played the string
in the evening when
I tried to be a joker

I played the kazoo
when I ran out of things to do

you knew it all along --

talent is something we laugh at
when we're staving out  on the vine  --- rolled over too many times

Had Ramen at 2 in the morning and overdosed on iron
No joke went to the hospital and was flushed out.  Prescribed stool softener and antacids,
Sat in the gown and watched the light with a ***** in my arm. Irradiated light blasted my belly, an xray of a hoof. I drank a throat number and spat out pellets then was pushed around in a chair by a fine Latina. Then pushed in the cold. I still wear my bracelet and walked to the car. An emergency was the run over drunk on the road with its brain pushed in. I blasted Sigur ros and Celtic frost . Then the sun rose like a rose.

I feel like I've suffered brain-damage and it makes me feel bad.  maybe too many nights alone does it.  my vocab is bad  and my thought process is dull and stiff .  I splash water  and burn up a little.
too  think I had it all  .

I   can  still point  at  saturn

Time will let me down the mosquito ***** its nectar
I await with pale hands and balloon strewn nooses, hopeful but not naíve.
If I was to fall now it would be to my feet. She smiles,  as she's supposed to.  What a life

I just want a simple life  I don't need grandeur
If my dreams happen or don't, so be it.  No difference when you can't even enjoy the moment.
I just want peace of mind,  a sound mind. I don't need dreams.  I need reality.  I need a firm grasp of my surroundings. I need a bigger hole to jump in. I need a bigger flame to burn my delusions.  I can lay amongst the ash, I have friends somewhere

nothing is shocking anymore which  is perhaps a good thing.
That means we're getting back to content.

I love death metal  -
but pure shock is empty.

******* the fetus
with a screwdriver and bashing it into a pulp
while I feed the mucuousy remains
to my mother---


okay
i said it, now what?

heil ******.

okay?


I'm glad I got it out of me when I did.  It certainly made a noise--

and that's important when
no one is listening

the serial killer speeks

and he listens to Debussy,

and red handle in the stairwell,  a knife to the back  and a single sigh.

the moon is bright tonight,

and the shoveled snow
makes a puddle in the driveway
which seaps to town.


3 nickles on the windowsill, half a call to your shadow.

''I want
to dance''

She dances and it's beautiful.

if only there were more than 5 minutes to the day and 5 seconds to contemplate the buzz in the air.

sweet dreams,
  I don't need
to say more        , your smile says it all

The lightswitch turns off, and so do the shadows that illuminate treachery in my soul.

good   night,
and sweet dreams to the
   ants that cover my bedside cookies. the milk is half
drunk

I cried for you
like a little baby, and here I am at 5am writing a poem for you because I can't stop thinking about you and how you touched me in a such a profound way.
I'm not even angry anymore, and you deserve most of it, but it just seems so abrupt and cold this end.
I can see you online witg your posts, but you're not here. You have fundamentally vanished, decased, erased from my life, and I can't accept it.
There's too much invested, but you're gone,
And I'm gone too.
And you're heading off to some brilliant future with a newly kindled love in a city with potential, and I'm still here.
I can't just spontaneously love like you can or others can. I take ******* years.
I dont let anyone in. Noone knows me, not even my mother.
I will still be sitting here and I want to reach out.
I'm tired of the failures, and you leaving just amplifies my feeling of worthlessness.
I can't keep being alone, and a recluse. It is killing me,
I can't keep hiding, I can't keep dreaming,
I need to be free.

Free by any means

cut throat



with no one in the hall.



it's about 10:30 now--

so the tv is off.


bed time insomnia and ill will.


I still dream of you sometimes

back up

a  test.

12  on the dot

as it rains

turning    into  mist.


alive no doubt

why even write

                         I don't need to explain.

I watch the windowpain,
I  dip into a black sun.

what the **** is the problem,

yu drive me home ******* 6 times? and call me a ******* sweetheart and you're too busy? just to spend a little ******* time ? you dumb ****? I ******* hate you and hope you ******* burn in hell after I cut your ******* head off you ******* *****

                               took a shower,

laid in bed,
drinking some JD I don't care.

first time in about year,
I 'm boring and have no vices.         life is boring .
                     I should have
been

a killer,
I would have respect.

                                 I  don't need                                              

this           any                                                 more


heart
like                           solid ice

Do you feel any better when you've been stuck inside?
Do you think it hurts me?
The only thing that hurts me is
a dead bluebird when I'm walking to work at 5 am.
I dont care who you ****, or how you parade yourself.
I'm a man now. Only the boy would have been bothered, because he couldn't bear to be alone with his thoughts, unperturbed, resiliant; he needed company.
Now my thoughts are company.
Now the wind has something to
say, and I listen

Lol

Bbo

Ki

O.lol

****

Rolloing in filth with the feces scraping the light



Look out

Kek

With a balll and fist

Get waht you deserve

No fun now when it's all for keep

Death awakened me and it was like a handshake in pale light. I felt the immediate reverberation of a dismal fleck of starlight harangued in the glossy aether.
   To pass away meant passing by. The painter wipes the last of the blue hues on his apron, the weathered book clasps shut, I see a dog running and a fountain trickle down a path to my home. Somewhere I've never been, but always remembered.

go go
toad

pidgeon scratched paper in red ink

neon slipper
agua

black ****** bamboozled

blessings

for the in rest
in  a setting

give it all back

fools good
for the furnish

why don't you
scam

  easy tiger
easier timer  it's a good slam
slam it down

down in chimney holes

laugh after

12       hours  is all it takes  for the shore line to recede and return into

a crumbling abyss
overlooking an  albatross prairie.


if There was no alternative
then what is your  choice?

I see she is a baker ,,   and      a mincer and maid   and protagonist
to a fairytale.

she is tall
and weary.

the nicest eyes ---    but still so  malevolent.

I take a bath in the cold air,   as the leaf  sits like a balloon  on   a gush-geiser blowing crystals 3000ft into the air
no room for the  wanderer.


I PICKED UP THE TOME

I read the last chapter.  

What you said about throwing your own book into the night
weeping for what may have come to her
struck me as profound.

not a lot touches me.

All we have to our names are flies in a *** of stew and *** in our subway
sandwich
We kiss leaches and we pray to idols.
Step off the ladder, there is an
eternal light, like deniro in mean streats.
Capiche

when you bury me,
just play motion picture soundtrack.

I want to sleep in the dirt,
I want to smell daffodils. I want to stare at the blue sky. I want to burn in the heat. I want to play with my toy. I want to
be here.
I want to be the now.
play
saturns children
by electric wizard.

play
sunday morning by velvet underground. give me love, so I can pretend that it mattered.

you are so

precious/..//.././/././././././..//..//.././\\


precious

I could live in the ice.
  I don't mind heat but
95 isn't pleasant. what work can you do?
    lobster red in 5 minutes
raking a lawn and watering a bush.  so you sit inside and eat popsicles.
   and it's too hot to lay down and the fan is 2 watts. the toaster in the tub cools it off quick,
  with the electrolytes and all.  another day for swimming

sponge bath
In a white moon saucer
The crumbs laid out spell
Something like
"*******" so
I roll up a pad and play dice with the ***** licemen; like bugs they make love

sometimes
you just
sit there asking
yourself
if you're
okay.

''are you okay?"

I sit
and breathe,

and a few
tears
form.

i'm smiling,

and I just like
to hear
a few
crickets
dancing
in
the leaves.

now that
they're
no
longer screaming

See these circus families come up in their SUV's snatching up the last of the real estate, desperate clowns
The market is garbage here in California and I'm in effect a holdout, a refugee seeking asylum

But theyll buy these dinky cabins in the mountain
& During 1 winter season roll a snowball and snowman
then retreat back to the plains. Gutless; those who live here only do so because they have no choice,
why is that so hard to comprehend

pisssing


on the porch
as the backlight   illuminates
the hall.


a lizard sits on the porch
and the ghost
of your    deer-skin pop


glows in the den.


I haven't a clue.


but I have 3 tickets to South America.



they wish
for

a snowy
summer.



I wish I was                    here


now.


2. +2
-
4


  good luck
god

And yet here I am making a poem in His honor

82 iq blues

  START now
What's for food. She melted the walls with her eyes. What of it . I talked to blind mice. Cadaver with a nose like pain. Begotten and strung by lines. We float on.  I kissed a girl and liked it.  I went alone through the wilderness like sissyphus and produced a bear. Age had me down. You took the number.  Ha . Keep the coins 999999999

888

85th presidents
Parades for flags. Bombing children and eating ***. Where were you then?
Keep your ******* hallelujah. Keep your hypocrisy. You're not my brother son. You're my shovel and this is our grave

The little man with the blue shirt
Drinks jars of fermented **** of which he purchases online for $179
Dollars

The procured **** is sourced from the bladders of Hispanic
Gypsy kawaii Core only fans models

His only love is derived
From the stenchy
Liquer
It has notes of lavender &
Hot mustard

God is dead , but the little man
With a blue shirt
     retracts his trigger & smiles
Unmolested

I feel bad because I'll never be what you want me to be.
The problem is that I genuinely don't care and I guess that's why you're attracted to me. I'm perpetually out of reach and indifferent and
I don't feel compelled to keep you around nor reach out, but when you leave for good that's when I'll miss you. That's when I'll regret not having done more to hold onto you.
It's a trait of psychopathic narcissism;
I love the idea of being loved, but actually being in love is too much. I cant give you that power even when I know you only meant good
And now I have nothing, because I refused to receive even when you were prepared to give me
Everything

the only thing stopping you from greatness is the fear that
others
won't find you great

All women are ******
Makes your interactions a million times easier;
I won't give you anything, and I have zero expectations. You're as ephemeral as the morning fog and I'm glad when
you'll eventually leave
, but for right now the dog is barking at its master at 2am
Don't ever beg ,
don't ever grieve

Writing poetry when you have no audience is madness,
It's like the schizophrenic transient babbling about spacecrafts
But the second you put him on a TV show
It's genius

I hope I meet god so I can spit in his face.
I hope I meet Satan
so I can show him real torturous cruelty
I hope I meet a child so I can say I'm sorry
I hope I meet a mother so I can ask who are you?
I hope I can meet an animal to ask why it's so calm in the face of death
I hope I can meet a star to see where its black heart resides
I hope I can smile when there's nothing left of us
And the tears flow into the dark abyss with everything else, lost & unsure

I think my problem is less about confidence and more to do about my apathy. I don't really think I give much a **** about anything and how I present myself and how im perceived, but then that also includes the way I see myself.  Do I matter enough to showcase my life and *******? There's such a saturation of material of all sorts that I struggle to justify my output. I could just do it for myself but then the nihilist in me says why bother? Its an eternal struggle, but beer helps in these situations. Makes me feel like I do matter, self important. I can even write letters to myself.  Hello self. I am so fine.  I wipe off the dust on my mirror and sing.  I get over it,  but there's room for all sorts of **** in this tank.  No one is bringing their masterpiece with them to the abyss, but some try.  So I don't

If you feel 'meh' about someone through an app,
you'll feel really meh about them in person, but my **** has no standards

Today I'll buy a **** steak
& Macaroni salad

My cat Winnie needs a new sweater,

Go driving in the sun until you hit mercury; the dead still lay there despite the incalculable aeons dividing our
weeping vessels
8

the   hobo      scram  


with the eagle face tattoo.

bitter wine and 2cent   deodorant.

the suitcase with linen shirts     and a dreamstation  ---   ****** up?
****** up?

***** **** with the crucifix? and the hotdog seizure?

you cut my **** up
like a   ((()))

spending money on your ham.

baby
got me a    tan  --- -   1056   i aint garden fool.

packed up     in      lentil  bean   gravel.   on a road less traveled .    2 words add up
to a    diatribe.    get more
sunlight

What was once green is yellow
& The pockets are lined with bent cigarette stems

I saw a little girl painting on a sidewalk.
I went down to the bench
& Wondered what
It felt like to be alone again

Today was just practice