If I knew anything I would have just kept quiet.
If I knew anything I surely would have never met you. I get in these lapses, I forget about the soft landing and the harsh freezes.
I wish I knew my self more. For what reason do I look out this window, with black lungs which spell my fortune.
I don't need to know.  I wander along to my  big red bed.
   So many roses .  It's the same

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

he strangles her

breathing in a tube


fire fight

black cup full to a hazard   scaling the mount

too soon
to yell

hasn't picked up
mail in the yard

Tigger is in me
poking the dots  


caroline-
or Jackie,
or Presley

--
so nice --

staring without blinking --

talking then leaving.


stranded in your vacuum

I read today's papers in
disbelief

when I get nervous meeting a girl
,
I just imagine
her having taken
the biggest stinkiest
rancid **** with her *** stretching out to the size of a fist
and the stink
permeating
for meters abroad;

and her picking her nose
with glee
and her pits stinking
and her feet sweaty
and her breath sour
and her legs and ***** hairy
from a 2 days growth

disgusting creatures.
  foul apes;
like me. elegance Is overrated, and now I'm turned on...

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.

was at the supermarket buying blueberries and some frozen pizza

and then I decided I needed some salt as well
so I went to that aisle and
happened to be where the bread was too
so I got that

and a few more peaches,

and a slice of beef, loose shoe,

and then an apple and pear

and some gushers and milk and cheese and eggs,


then I went along my way, to the self-check out,

and it flashed into my eye and my eye started watering and I cursed it for that.

it was a sunny day-
so I drove straight to the cemetery and had a picnic
with dead people

I get tired of writing about me all the time
Because how much can a man *****?
So dig up some dirt and clean a car,
Don't cry, don't be a sad sack.
Put those dead roses in a vase and pretend they're alive, at least they smell good

the nights of humid air and loose sink hair
the night of barking dogs and screaming frogs
the night of silent cars and purple mars
the night of blood red wine and healing scars
the night of doves and crows flying
the night of sleeping lice and dying minds
the night of black and white pictures and leftover love
the night of swimming horses and pressed up diaries
the night of fools beckoning to the hall
the night of a concert played in perfect pitch to a deaf audience
as they all applaud

No escaping it
I see it everywhere
Crawling into their brains
& into mine
Making me numb and apathetic
titillated with the understanding of trivial knowledge
Knowing my neighbor's
trip to Costa Rica
& Breakfast sandwich
rather than knowing my neighbor
Clubbed into submission
among weak and docile beings
Masculinized women
& feminine men
Wearing glass of automated knowledge
Sharing nothing
But the sadness of consciousness
In world that's asleep
We gave birth to AI so
a facsimile of life could go on,
when everywhere else is death

It makes no sense but it felt good making it

I don't need 'meaning' to appreciate something
I can appreciate it just for being.
It says enough without
speaking

Why do I continue to keep in touch with this person?
Why do I fail to remember all the misery and dysfunction
and anxiety induced in being confined to a plainly doomed situation?

Why do I need to be friends with this person? why can't I just
let the hate fester like most?
I am too empathic and compassionate
and genuinely want the best for this person even though they scammed
my credit card less than 2 weeks ago


I should be caving in their car window
and throwing a molotov cocktail through their house,
or leaving a
       note;

why do I go back?
why do I feel like I can get the time back that was lost

Ruining myself

but if you let go
It stops hurting.

It only hurts because you care too much
Otherwise
It's just skin

If this is all it takes to bring down a civilization, then maybe it should collapse
modern humans are weak , and the 'primitives' would be laughing at how pathetic and far man has fallen. Like a wolf sadly glancing at the pellet-filled
chihuahua barking tethered from a fence. It was lost a long time
ago

I really love when it rhymed. Now check out my link.
"YoungPARROT95$"
help a ***** out blood, smash that like, smash that subscribr.. lemme **** that weimer. Please like me.
Please like my stuff. My self worth is derived from other people liking my material
Does art exist if there are no spectators

eating cranberries from a tree and whispering secrets into the ear of a mule,
spirits guide me.


today is 2017

and I see her on the radio when the clouds darken.

inside of the catacombs sits the sword of leonidus,
still breathing.

I flick on the news and I see heads rolling on the dirt as mothers kick away dustpans full of bones.


a leader is speaking and echoes boom across the pond
and a few words are etched into a tree as dusk follows dawn.


LOL
LOL
LOL
LOL

ROFL
ROFL
ROFL


strawberry toast with jam while nailing slivers of wood into your ***** ****
makes for an interesting Saturday evening in the Hollywood hills.
a cool 78 and fat siliconed ***** with purple streaks make
me dizzy mostly

Was on top of a hill sort of mountain in a wooden castle and started  carrying wood to the bottom of the hill to a location at the end of a long strip of gravel road. There I began stacking the wood.
At some point someone called the police on me because I assume I looked like a transient stealing wood with my shirt off.
Back at the fort I saw police cruising by, one faintly a woman, so I ran back to the wood pile. There I found a shed with assorted food items mostly canned stuff which I presume was left in case of an emergency or just stored by passerbys and people donating.
Then at some point I saw a *** with a shaved head in an alley nearby, he said
"Are you new? Is this your first time?"
I looked back with a scornful look
"It's been a week"
"Nice cannibal corpse shirt" he muttered as he puckered his lips walking towards me and then finally touching me.
I then reached out and grabbed his neck and choked with all my might and then proceeded to punch him numerous times, but he kept advancing towards me.
I then grabbed a football helmet laying on the ground and proceeded to bash him in the head with it, crushing it, and his head somehow became decapitated in the process and rolled away so I put it on top of his belly.
I then woke up around this time and went to get wood for a fire

So hopeful
And weary
I cannot feel my hands
My hands are cold and stiff

I kiss you somewhere over
Here
Then make my way to the partition

I cannot see straight
I wringe my collar of the desecrated
tears
My serpent speaks
To make love is to **** and penetrate
Stab deep into your wound
And dessicate
Annihilate with fury
My overtone sweet with faith and sophistry
Now is the time to wonder
Were you always this innocent?

On a wall
Dripping down blue ribbons like a noose, your hand outstretched and cadavers leaking on a table
Squeeze the pus from the wound and consume ***** dogs
Names etched in sand with no purpose

I drank some water just now and I watched a movie
My plants are cold and now it's dead.
See something between these lines because I genuinely don't know anymore
Nothing really matters does it
?

I cut an apple blossom from the tree
and laid it out for her,
there was still some pollen residue on it and the branches were shaking from the wind.

she saw it and smiled, and I knew It was better than any of the cards.
be real,
don't try

clockwork oranges
kneeling to an apple in the Sahara.

taking a bite out of a ***** pancake in some strip mall

drinking the whole milk
whole.


sighing on afternoons.

cradling a cat in the evening
while spinning a top.


virtual reality
head set
on an infant.

getting up at dawn to feed the worm.


taking out an ad in the newspaper
that never coms around any more.


looking at people in the eye


.

slowly walking away.


tattering this spirt. ----


Into a door that doesn't open

I just know I'll end up alone in an apartment with **** memorabilia relics and statues of Egyptian artifacts like Lemmy in a condemned apartment in the outskirts of LA with my hairless cat watching old VHS tapes and drinking decaf coffee with my slippers on;
   mainly when I'm not touring.
  I want the rock'n'roll life, and it's mainly lonely. life of the cowboy. Some illegitimate children, and then it's me all alone again--  like always , like how it's supposed to be,
because you all drain me

I got a 40 oz, and listened to music on my way there. I bought it and asked how he's doing. He said 'fine'. I actually wore a mask this time, then I drove down the road and saw a downed tree and some rocks.
It was cloudy and grey, and devoid of life and intention and it felt fine. It felt natural like my imagination made
reality
But I always vanish in my dreams and I've just started sleeping

everytime you have ***,
especially if youre positioned over the girl in military style with your straightened back
  and tightened glutes and hamstrings with your neck aligned parallel
thrusting
in unison with the metronome,
you always think ''
oh yeah, I'm just doing a workout at your leisure"
and when the *** seeps out of your **** and you roll away,
you stand up
and shake your head in disappointment
and **** on your cigarette stained with
***** juice.
that cigarette is always amazing afterwards though,
and so is the
drive home

yards
in a mile for footstools now .
  she rubs her silly
***
like a serpent .  who here has no future ? save thy nickel and pet your
prudent
pride
once more and feel tonight as you slither
across floorboards
for
amused muppets seething

ripped off
a fletcher,
lizard kin and bleeding, hysterectomy
who know there's 52 in a bottle
squished

blue indigo father Dunlop- hideos in the qeua you paint by numbers and pick from your thistle jar, hairless luck
meow muskrat ****

I always get blame after the fact. I'm always the 'bad guy',
but I know the second I said "I love you" it was already over.

there was nothing left to plunder.
I was no longer interesting, I was
easy

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,
I can write circles around you

I can do laps.

I can breathe the poison

I can be the 'bad guy'.

I can be the 'hero'.

I can be the nobody.

I can be  the trash bag, with grain rice and 3 rotten fruit.

I can jump rope on a train

I can sing the alphabet.


I can **** the mouse.


I can spill the guts.


I can zipline to peru.

I can  feel the crevice and eat lettuce on a 2-day basis.


God-given rights
are not sacred.

Just

believe in yourself.


& stop telling me    I'M NOT WORTH IT.



:::::_)   ::::)  :::)  :))) :) :) :) 0

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

When your head is packed with garbage & there's an unrelenting ache there actually comes a certain clarity,;
I can't concentrate on anything because I'm just trying not to die, thus 99% of living becomes superfluous and you focus on the pertinent, which is not dying, like I stated

It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society

I have that stapled on my wall,
   above my drawing of a cat.
  and I feel no better, I sometimes wish I was well-adjusted. life would be easier being
empty

feeling pretty manic right now maybe its because I haven't done anything of interest today.
scorpions settle in the eyes of traitors alone with rotten bananas that we do not discard unless poisoned
my
neighbor is spraying his house with a hose trying to wash off bird ****,
and I see him
65
with rainbow crocs and a ponytail as he huddles over his hose and sprays and he plays grateful dead
  and a waft of *** smoke comes out of his smelly garage in the saharan heat.
the tank top sitting like a used up napkin in a deli with green splotches of
life.
old timers used to be interesting but now they're hippies.
so it takes 5 minutes  to bake a hot pocket-
  the end of the world is
  now

this is my therapy moreso than music. I can say what I want -- I'm not confined to a melody , or attached to any notes-
it's free form. it's its own music and has its own dance; I can laugh,
and cry,
and scream, and say how it really is-- and it's really great;
  really great , and doesn't have to be that grand. There doesn't need to  be a big crescendo.
just soaking up the sun with an empty glass in the dull noon is sometimes enough

he was sitting there for a few minutes and watched the flies buzzing around the rotten bananas
and oranges that sat there on the counter for the last 6 weeks.

maggots were pulsing out of the sink
and worms were coming out of the carpet.

the windows were boarded shut form the constant burglaries,

and all the valuables were packed into a brown sock that he hid in a purple vase.

no one ever came over-
and his only friend Greg hated him because he stuttered and licked his lips a lot--

so Greg would sometimes leave his feces on the steps and he'd walk on them sometimes in the morning and it was a sad
sight indeed.

anyway,
he hung himself that night and there

was faint karaoke playing at the next bar whilst the bartender got head from some 16 year old.

and the flies consumed everything,

and the fire scorched all innocent beings.

none were spared, except for the worms in the carpet

I like doing pushups  and pull ups
because even though I have the equipment and a full weight rack in my cellar , I always assume that it could be taken away. I always picture scenarios -- alone in the woods with no equipment or nothing else;
try doing a 500ib squat or 300ib bench press then; your muscularity wouldn't even be suited to that environment, it would be dead-weight and quickly absorbed as fuel. & if you've ever used steroids or are currently abusing hormones, your
***** would shrink to a walnut; you've already damaged your body's hormonal system and are now a man reliant on exogenous substances. you're dependent. I
don't want to be dependent. I want to climb up a branch and pull myself up 20 times if I have to, or push my body's weight 100 times ,
I don't need a piece of steel , I need a piece of deer lung.
& as the cell closes in, the newspaper with water bags
make great dumbbells. just be sure to get your vitamins. & watch out for predators in the night

bitten on  a finger in a crisp in a jar in the hallway down Africa sewage

indian toilet with cactus

gypsy nale in the ice cream

with cherry dumplings

god's your man

man I stay above it - above it like vasectomy

crawling
down the ditch    nose bleed headace  hairy skull
witch blood
babe

gothy gothy

you only did it
cause' your dad has money    

FAKE

go into debt & be free
slave for a goal, like hardwares and cynics turning coins down by a crumbling and filthy street
today is a good to waste, like forever, and all the days after.
don't be afraid to
             fail

Sick of everything
Sick of the world and people and her and myself and my cat and my musical mediocrity
Sick of living

Sick of the torturous routine
Sick of not getting better

What is 'better'?

Wanna sleep for eternity but instead I write at 4 am
Too many tears have been spilled on this
Too many dreams manifest into nightmares
My escape is a quick pull
& my love will be permanent

Don't forget to forget me.
I know you will

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

all around me are familiar faces  ;     if you step away    be sure to memorize
the voice code, 298 zero and proceed.
  if you must you must
, no time
to   fly

I see stars i see
Blackness
I see bitter lines and folded dreams
I see promises kept and promises
Broken
I see dirt roads and paper
Highways
I see plasticine smiles and liquid metal
hearts
I see tears in rain
And fiery baptisms
I see cataclysm lullabies and tired punched out
Laughter
Waiting in gutters for two cent coffee and divorce lawyers to **** my ***
I see wallpaper liars and tombstones filled with kings

I sit along this street and look up to the faint glow
Never expected nothing so it never hurt to lose

Lose
Lose


Lost

Tapioca
Weathered
# 9
You were shot in the morning
I loved you
I hear your voice
You speak to me
All you need is love
But the hate sometimes
Gets its way

Let's be friends and lovers
All time is an illusion
it didn't matter

Swiftly and unapologetically,
my favorite God wrote poetry for the fabled liturgical society
If I heap trash on the pile maybe I can be surmised for my genius as well

Blue is red and red is yellow

Tonight the stakes shall impale the treasonous
Interlopers

Let none see our folly; the earth is due for its poisoning

& I took a **** on a baby
Yesterday while
the windows were not open

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

they burned the cities.
they burned the pharmacy,
they burned the bus stop
, they burned the libray and the depot,
they burned the fire station,
of course they burned the police station.
they burned the homeless man crying for his socks.
they burned the dog,
they burned the manicured grass
they burned the log cabin and the phonebook and the 12 hay stacks across the way
but they didn't dare burn the synagogue
but they did
burn a church,
and they did burn a zoo. the animals ran free

because someone tells you something is a fact

prevention is more affordable
than treatment
dubiously related: the medical field

Older doesn't always mean wise
the importance of getting 7-9hrs of sleep every single night.

Human memory is extremely unreliable.
fabricate memories
conform to our biases

revolve around photograph

gender of the people doing the ignoring
*55555

feed a cat

Why do some people in their
Poems suddenly talk like they're 18th century
Aristocrats?

I merrily stroll for thy love as truth is bequeethed upon me,
Strudle fruit like wine I digest for I am
Famished

Do they send it by mail too?
Indubitably

I throw a sock at it but it starts hissing at me. Let me eat my Cheetos in piece.
My eyes look up at the van Gogh, a beautiful portrait of a corpse, like me.
My head is groggy so I lay down and sneeze.
"You will be forgiven"
Yes, as long as there isn't a jury. To be good, you have to be fast, and sadlly some will get left behind

I'll forget this in an hour


just   like  a dead rose on the table,

or a box     of  
wrist watches.


I'll forget
I even wrote

''Jupiter   in bloom makes
for a                                   lovely  airspace''

Running shoes,
just like   the profile   ,  and the pictures,
and the posts,
and the blood  ,  and membrane
and procedures on the   cranium

baggage   without   ever carrything anything.


the load is yours.

& you'll   either live by it ,
or you don't.

      I choose neither.

Love is a like a ride for women when men built the amusement park. It's too much ******* effort some times. I'm not here to amuse you.
Pay your own dinner, tell your own jokes. I'm staying home and doing nothing. I already worked today

Like a rothko.

Blue over white

Black stretched over red and crimson
light
bleeding

The air is hot and heavy

The walls are quiet in the morning

The fragments of ash
spill into
the noon

The violins sound for the dove

The canvass stands stoic amongst glazed over eyes in the lobby

And in the dawn there is nothing left to mourn

The painting was finished