Sick of this suffering there is no respite.
In my head is a battlezone and nowhere to rest
I walk up and down the hall, maybe a chemical imbalance? But I take every hardship as something to endure for the sake of glory.
The pills would numb me,  but not to the realities of this plane of torment.
I would always know whilst sitting in my docile state that I gave in, and there could be nothing worse.
Even now I'm tormenting myself when most would readily accept help.
Hatred is what I feel, and it sustains when nothing else could. I feel no pain when I'm angry,  just a calm in knowing I'm still alive,  I'm not dead yet.
Or at least haven't been snuffed out. But the time will soon come.  When the echoes  stop repeating and it's the still bleating of an empty void. I don't know

But I'd have to pay for it. And I wouldnt mind. I stopped caring about what's 'real' anymore. This pain is real enough

its so cold   ..     my nose in running
and my  breath is fogging up the screen.  
my hands are blue.    my shrub is dead  .
my coffee is
slush.

my         hair breaks off in chunks when
i shower.


i'm here all alone.

          i   talk   to pictures of  
john goodman.


i  go on forums i shouldn't

I    I   I      I    I

   i  don't really    exist
i don't exist

Just to see where I go

I've killed myself countless times -       I pull the trigger and lay the gun down on the desk.

I peel my brain from the plastic-film,  and draw with crayons.

I seep into the carpet, and I feel a warm hand on my temple.
She walks in
and disrobes

and I see a hole in her.

a deep gray hole  that blends in with the air.        blue light--  and a song
about living in the hills whilst young.


pull out a ******* sandwich,
who told you?       Sit down.  sit over there.          pass it to me.

puzzle piece -- hand-drawn,  lips pursed with heat;  

9-9=  3

I   am still a child sitting   on the bench  ,

and I still hear a crumbling          sun          and   it flows through me without
prejudice

I put her back in her box, and tuck her under the bed and she doesnt even cry

My back hurts real bad
she called me to tell me she doesn't wanna talk

I ate a serving of rice
& A pepperoni
Condensed
Grape
substrate

My eyes hurt
I bleed in my gums
I *** a lot

I watch a show about lengthy dogs
Pick up your watch
Leave me alone
Leave me alone

Dont

Writing while half awake & dealing with ***** trash
slide down the slide see the blue sky
I've opened my heart to no one but the night

Women, birds, cars, zoos, atms, shoes, pasta salad, cake, burritos, haMmers, grass hoppers, parrots, politics, money.
I just want my box, and the world can *******.
It takes about 25 a week so it's attainable. I don't live to work, and I'm not sqaundering my youth to be a slave. I can be a ****** in my 30s and 40s, but right now I'm a rockstar. I don't want my soul essence squeezed from me. I'm not ready to be shackled.
Shackled by marriage, or children,
Or social status and its upkeep.
Just give me the box, you can have the stuff

Lucid dream. Then I will

escape

So it goes
   2 steps forward A lot of nothing

"Dont mistake my kindess for weakness"

She cries anyway.
Red
Tears

I999

Bukowski was the best poet of all time,

my opinion--

pretty much ***** the art form,
and took out all the rhyming because songs already do that.


most are imitators--

I Respect him,
and see a little of him in my work,
mainly the fact that it's just a mockery and I don't even know if it's
worth

the time typing it.

but I really like his stuff on death, on his last years---

and
now the microwave is slamming,

and now
there's a fan blowing,

and now there's
a mosquito
******* my blood--

and now
I'm just making stuff up,

and now
I'm thinking of nothing,


and now I'm wasting your time--


and time is an illusion

A giraffe dancing with heels while eating a watermelon and ******* a clown
That's the first time anyone has ever thought of that

Congratulations

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

I don't CARE

I wander through the ancient
gardens,
I **** the ****** in her little slit.

I burn the temple,

I pray to the last priest on judgement day. **** my ******* with a 22inch
cactus.

I don't care.
you don't matter.
******* all.

you all mean nothing to me.
         Ill die alone,

but at least I won't be afraid.


last embrace.
must I dream and always see your face.

lover

lover

leave me for good.          leave

me please.

water turns into ice
then melts back into water
maybe it does this
because it gets bored with itself

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.

6 people died today in a parade
They became part of the display
I pulled my lazy boy down and remembeed why I'm proud to be American, that means sitting when a ****** marching band skimpers forth with some soulless katy Perry admist a Kellogg's float. You're dead and you don't even remember when it happened

Laid up sick in bed , with 3 rolls of toilet paper at my side
I ******* for the 13th time

There's a bottle of OJ in an iron canteen
and a Mexican
Flute perched in my grandma's arms who sadly succumbed to her
       sorrow

the mucus drips drown and 3 girls wanna **** me. If I didn't have aids I'd **** them tomorrow instead of Wednesday
I
latch onto a common thread
which
Is
don't share too much of yourself
unless you wanna be caught

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

a dead mangled up bobcat with its head sqaushed in and brains seeping out of its eye in a patch of dirt on the mossy hill,

The bones will be clean within a week. Death doesn't care, we just get in the way

I remember the nights in paisley shirts with my friends
Matt and Nate driving to San Diego and LA and Frisco and playing old velvet underground tunes or originals about hopping trains or Eliot Smith.
I miss those days, and I remember the scorched guitar that we got from a burned down house that still played perfectly and that we named Lucille. Everybody was awestruck by that guitar.
And I remember sipping beers by the Volvo at 1am laughing and kissing drunk girls who faintly cared for the music, but it was all about the music, ALWAYS about the music. And the crowds would applaud and we would fight on stage and flip tables like idiots and get kicked out, then inevitably park outside a knoll and stare at the timeless sky.
those days were formative and made men into men. Meandering along lost roads searching for purpose when everything seemed so bleak. We didn't know the direction, it merely manifested itself in front of us like ethereal plains, and when times got tough we stood tall,
when there were only a few options
we stood tall,
When the flame was all but extinguished,
we stood tall.
It was our only choice, no one taught us anything,
the pursuit towards glory was only a dream
but we chased the glimmer into madness

It's sad that this all just goes into a  box.
just like a music genre.

it's metal,
it's pop,

it's progressive jazz,

it's Spanish celtic gypsy music,

electronic
banana  
avante garde.


Into the box it goes,   locked away   ,    and enjoyed

carefully

I have nothing to write about
Everythings closed down and I have the same routine everyday
No one even really talks, which I'm fine with, but I'd at least want the option to hear your drivel if I feel like it.
Boots and Hammer digging the ditch outside
Should be done by next decade then it won't snow in the garage no mo
Distance so fine

I see them moving around in there
it's an old dilapidated cabin on the corner of the street,
and the town ****-heads
and transients like to go in there and squat and put up blankets
on the windows
to indicate their presence there so they can shoot dope and **** in peace.

There's a dead dog tied to a leash which is in the final stages of decay;
and a shirtless man named Mark works on his wheeless truck set up on cement blocks and has a headless manequen propped on the roof

      One night I throw a heaping pile of dog **** through the window and hear someone yell back
"I'LL **** YOUUU"

When I awake the next morning all the are cars gone.
They probably left on account of it being 12 degrees and not having
any electricity.  Someone forgot to pay the bill

Is it worth writing if you can't be yourself?
If you're afraid of the outcome, if you be yourself?
Is it worth it to be perfect if it means being fractured in your self perception?
Are you writing as a means to fill a character role, or is really you writing?
You might lose the teen girls with your raunchiness, and the old strigid traditionalists with your erratic lines, but dont lose yourself in the process.
It's okay to ****, it's okay to be messy and uncouth, but please don't lie to yourself

this life isn't meant to be quiet
the damp roses cannot sustain monotony
To sit idle is too betray aeons and perpetuate suffering
knowing too much led me to thinking too much
The perspicacious dancer dances for oneself
Look out into the light and see what is there,
Stop dreaming for tomorrow
Tomorrow was yesterday
And it's too soon

this site is too limiting

but the only place where you assume there's an audience
even though  it's someone
clicking and then promptly leaving .


I had   a   3 way

          with a         lantern           at the bagel shop  but still  forgot to tell you about the   overdue movie.


a reference to videostores
which are now extinct;   blades of grass,

chopped up by the pound.


I   cried
3 times.            

I wrote the same **** 100 times.


I keep writing the same ****.


i'm bored.       ****. a bad word.  a racial slur(the worst one)


a crisp and  a dead  giraffe
painted with stripes   and still walking home .


I pull the covers to sleep-   and it is profound

walked down the road and along the street where there was snow. It was cold and cloudy and my finger was cold too. I walked into the store and the Asian owner Bob had a mask on, I didn't. I proceeded to place my miller highlife and tea on the counter and paid for it. "Nice day" I said. He agreed and I walked back into the snow and went home

Threw my phone against the wall and it shattered in a million pieces. then I threw the rest in the pond and let the frogs eat the battery and SIM card. You can have it; & I've never slept better. I even read a ******* book.  That's different - & I didn't even miss
anyone -- in fact I realized how much I hated being available to everyone and anyone at all hours. but I don't mind the dark-
it's nice and cool here

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

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

I remember a 90 year old jew at the Getty Center coming up to us in line while waiting for the bus to get to the top of the hill to see
Leonardo Davinci's hand-drawn notes and sketches of 'Human Anatomy' and other classics;
and this guy wouldn't stop talking about reuben sandwiches and Canter's deli, and that you have to a have real Dill pickle, not that ''bread'n'butter ****'. & he kept showing his holocaust tattoo with blue ink and would say how the guards killed his mother and ***** his sister and threw his little brother in a cell for days to come out starved and covered in lice so he was thrown in the chamber himself,
and he kept talking and talking
and talking
blah blah blahhh
  and he shed a few tears and drank his water in the bench area while eating his sad balogna sandwich,
but at least he was done talking. man he was boring.
I had stuff to do, like look at drawings of human penises ,
dissected
and
the bushes were all blue in the courtyard; because it was July

I ******* everyday
Everyday
Not at work though.usually at night
I watch movies too.
I should start reading again.
I have a really ****** life which persists despite my best efforts to improve.
Systemic poverty and growing up in a household full of ******. I won't make excuses. I just despise you ******* ***** who had everything given to you on a pladder and are still insufferable with your excuses. Fuccbois and Sarahs and Emma's, decay on the excrement pile.
I will succeed , if success is contentedness. Pain can only last so lo g before it becomes your normal.
If your whole life is having your intestines slowly wrung from your body and your testicles desheathed eventually things will equalize.
Hell isn't a state of mind, it's just a nightmare that thinks it's a dream , and I woke up too soon, you'll be there too and with a certain someone

I  pace back and forth  in  the pink room   and pull the blinds    tightly.

Ashtray in the corner
near the sink.

Radio   by  the door.
hammer on the  bed.

fork in the socket.

rose in  the glass.


eyes in  the ceiling .     ***** in  the   shoe.                hair in    the   bowl.


kissing  my  lord.

kissing  it.
it all.

so much.


the  leeches  know now ,  everything,  everything, everything since before time since before birth and before the creation. SHOULD HAVE LISTENED
SHOULD HAVE
******* LISTENED TO THEM

YOU ******* FOOL!


......

4 DAYS
go by-
I hear bug.

message without a voice.
crying at me
as though I  could have known.                  a handy device  like   maybe for to  the cleft  in the dry hand
back  wards?   for the purse-chase,-  casted by it now?


I speak

to you

.


I  want an answer.

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

I brushed my teeth and made coffee and looked at my phone. then looked at my phone. Then looked at my phone then curled some weights and looked at my phone. Then I called someone on my phone while looking at my phone. Then I looked outside and saw a moth by a lamp

I don't count the page.
Folded in numbers, frail and benign
Look to see what you've written
And what really matter s

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 pain splits my head open
& My heart spills out of my gut

Greedy gelatinous slithered eyes stab at me
& A duckling yellow combover with grey tongues spit at me
"No time off"

I turn off the device and go back to bed; the fuzz in my head lingers but at least now I know I wasn't crazy, just
sane

- - Masked, bought soup and cranberry juice then ate strawberries and a health bar
- went swimming
-got the mail
- walked dog
-dog threw up
- talked to pat
- watched movie on ***** rockstar who shot himself in the face
- jacked off
- did some push ups
- ate a subway
- took shower with green soap
- folded shirt
- walked dog again
- dog happy
- bed  ?
- bed
- sleep
-  dream then
- wake up

Of all time  in history I could have been born,

I'm here on  a computer talking to imaginary people
in   a box
with  wood-grain carpet

and a tv with a   nondescript latino face.


What does it even mean to be a human?

What is pain?

What is genius  when it all takes     is a **** salute,

or saying the obvious?   Or just loving one another?


Why does hate always get a bad rap?


Where  is  the exit?

where is   the promise,

   where is      the sensitive eyes        in     the    deadair room

with 3 chairs


where is my   participation trophy?


where is my  diving board,
my knitted sweater,
  cellular phone, comatose giraffe?


who's back do i scratch?
who's bed do i make?

where are you parents?

where is  

the end

I used to care and be cautious
But now I just really wanna impregnate her or someone.
I'm sorry child, but suffering isn't too bad, it's the living you have to worry about

Little blue baby feet are crawling towards you and the door is shut
GOO GOO GAH GAHH
It ***** on your blood and shrinks your body down to a prune,
The feeding season musnt
Be disturbed

Some 60 year old ****** with no teeth offered me a ******* for my pack of cigarettes.
I just gave her the pack and said
"Thank you, but I'm alright".
I picked up my brother at the next block.
There is no light

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

Love is two things.

Rain
, Blowing cold.

Sentience

Disturbed.
Passive,     but giving and of course suicidal.
All the above.
But one more.

Loving

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

when things get too heavy or your problems seem insurmountable to overcome, make a list.

  I love making lists.
Start easy.

1. Go ride a bike tomorrow

good, you're getting some cardio

2. spend at least 30 minutes in the sun everyday

now you're getting vitamin D

3. give up alcohol and ciggarettes

Now you're giving you body a chance to heal and detoxify.

4. Get a better job.

You can do this. This is the ******* one usually, but having an income gives a sense of intrinsic usefulness. You're contributing something, even if it's a sandwich to someone's mouth.

5. save up money.

Good, getting some money in the bank for some financial stability and to provide a safeguard in case of disaster

6. find a loving girlfriend.

need companionship for longterm mental health, we can't stay alone forever.

7. now keep this up, maintained.

This is usually where I start my list again.  
I'm tired of the fallbacks, and the hindsight anguish.
Someday
happiness will
last, but for now the list is my comfort