Roomate:
"It's uhh...
...Mad Max role play."

Naked Bound man
center of the room:
*"We get really into character"

Psychic type with no
Emotional energy?
Abra fled; no spoons.

I spent seven years in purgatory
Not between heaven
Waiting for hell
Felt like sand and fire
Like I was dripping down
Cooking the Unsubmerged parts
Up above the hourglass
Pitter patter
trickling below my feet.
In a heatwave.

who showed god
The magnifying glass
He burns ants with?
**** that guy.

I am an ant in purgatory
It feels like I can carry so much weight
I am small
capable of so much
look around.
Everywhere around me
People built normally
can do more
It takes a mad scientist
His imagination of the shrink ray
The switch on the side
Something out of a sci-fi movie
Just to make me grow

It takes somebody with an imagination
Just to think i'm impressive

who gave god the Shrink ray?
bless them.

I thrive on the creators
The thinkers
Bath in their passion
Crave their attention
I need to hear their words
See their art
Live their stories through mediums
This abundance of descision
Where they hold hands with a paint chip god
Fingernails of mustard, line and savage
Seductress tendrils
Spilling splattering across canvas
Or music sheets
a stage
Computer screen
Purgatory.

Who gave god the paint brush?
It was me.

You are in a recliner
M.A.S.H. is on the T.V.
A boy moves you to a wheelchair
White doors
Hallway
Small reuban cube dinner
Thickened water
Chocolate ice cream
White fabric
White light
Black curtains

He waits in the park for a date.
A bus full of los Angeles Models and photographers
talk through walkie talkies.
He walks around spying through his peripheral.
pretending he's James Bond trying to scope them out.
He wonders if he seems suspicious, or if he's going undetected.

A Beautiful girl passes briskly by, looking curiously around.
She long dark bangs, fall colored scarf, flirty skirt.
She sits on a nearby bench.
He no longer thinking of his date.

"oh my god."
"wait, no."
"what if she showed up right when you started flirting?"
"be respectful."

A vibration in his palm.
"I'm Here"
he looks around
the only woman to fit the profile is perched on the bench.
"no way."
He walks over to the girl.
"you walked right past me, beautiful."
on his face is a smolder
the gas mask used to hide all sorts of jumbled feelings in the past.
Today. it's hiding a tiny jumping boy. feeling like he just won the gorgeous girl lottery.
This is his Date.

They go to Dobra Tea,
She takes a sip.
"It tastes like peaches" she says.
"Peaches come, in a can." The boy starts.
"they were put their by a man" she adds.
they screamingly harmonize a bit too loudly for a tea shop
"In a factory downtown"
they shush each other.
giggles erupt out of them as they collapse into the tiny pillows.
they get quiet.

the girl explains she puts her "bad pictures" on tinder
so people are surprised to realize she's beautiful in person.
stricken by her brilliance.
He applauds the flawless strategy.
as it clearly worked on him.

They go on a few more dates.

First She takes him to a graveyard.
They talk about their Jiminy Cricket's
Shared demons, so familiar some
creep from behind gravestones.
push leaves from their path as they stroll along.

Then He bring her to lighthouse.
A thick cold fog.
they switch between belting 90's pop hits
and laying peacefully up at the sky holding hands.
Music.
sound of bleeding hearts rubbing against each other.
bow and violin.
how soon they flint and steel.
spark too hot, too real, too soon.

later, in bed.
His heart leaks something.
He wonders if he looks suspicious, or if he's going undetected.
when she pushes "did you just say you love me?
Tired, and teary eyed, He says:
"Peaches."
It was their safe word.

As she starts in, Clearly not satisfied,
"C'mon, I know I hear-" she interrupts herself.
"oh... you said peaches."

See, he could have said yes,
It would have been more honest.
but this was only their third morning waking up together.
even though his heart wanted to say it again.
his Jiminy Cricket doesn't care if he loves her.
it knows he can't take care of her.
Jiminy knows that when he goes home tomorrow, she's a poem.

So He says peaches.

"Why did
you let that
man cut?"

"Because your
mother is a
good person."

Phrases heard In:
Black Jack,
League of Legends,
and The Bedroom.



"This is supposed to be a team game".

"Tap like this, to hit it".

"Let's Double up".

"I need a leash".

"No, no, no, never do that".

"That's everything I have"

"Forfeit Forfeit.. Just forfeit."

"There's no chance"

"Just keep trying! don't give up! we can do it!"

"It's just not in the cards, man".

"I wouldn't risk it".

"Never stray from your strategy"

"Push".

"just take the tip".

"Nice job!"

"We're ******".

"We should end it".

"When you go in and out like that, it throws everything off".

"BUST, BUST, BUST, BUST"

"Awwwww".

"Okay, let's finish"

"Sup"

"I always end up on bottom".

"Hit me".

"Ace!"

"split them".

"stay in your lane"

"Stop being toxic".

"He busted!"

"We won!"

"this is a battle of attrition".

"I don't have enough money for that."

"I'll move to the middle"

"Look at this champion!"

"Consider yourself honored"

"You didn't listen, you should have listened".

"How do I play this, Champ?"

"Don't hit the 18!"

"Come onnnnn!!!! COME ON!"

"****!"

"That was a terrible start"

"You got lucky"

"We got lucky"

"That was a hell of a match".

"Good game"

It's odd to be a peon.
To sit in a grey Office.
Blue tucked in button up.
Red tie.
My opinion is irrelevant.
It's hard, it's rough.
It's not safe.
I am disposable.
All face to face is false.
My red tie doesn't help me.
It only stands me up.
I look left and find a man
both dressed and sitting down.
Whiskers ***** from his chin.
Teeth behind them smile.
A bit lip, a burnt tongue.
From the coffee on his desk.
He doesn't seem to have a soul left.
This cubicle has leeched it away.
I too have bit lip and burnt tongue.
From coffee on my desk.
I too am dressed and sitting down.
Am I doomed to a similar fate?
I wear the costume, blue shirt, grey slacks.
I look like I fit in.
But I add a flair to my uniform.
White and pink bunny ears.
Not too silly
Just enough.
My foot thumps the ground at excitement for my call.
My nose twitches at the smell of strangers as they pass.
I may not nibble carrots or hop around grass.
But I'm the call center bunny.
I'd much rather be different.
It feels wrong to fit in after so many years of being different.
I need to be looked at, laughed at, loved.
I can't be cookie cutter.
But I can cut cookies and hand them out.
Being ignored just felt so wrong.
If i do this right. They'll remember me.

(W = Anonymous Elderly Woman With Sudden and Severe Dementia)
---

W:

"I was an evil little girl".
I used to stick my tongue out at little boys. They would say,

"SHE STUCK HER TONGUE OUT AT ME".
Then the teachers would always say,

"Young man, she is a respectable young lady and has done no such thing".
So I'd put my thumb to my nose and make faces as they sat".

"My grandmother always raised us to be "GOOOD" "GOOOD" and I was goood.
It was so boring.
They used to get so frustrated with me".

"I was so proud of my father.
Everywhere he went he had to fix people.
He changed things
nomatter where he'd go. He always said

"I CAN MAKE IT BETTER FOR THEM.
IT CAN BE BETER".
He never loved me. Didn't have time. I should call him.
I want to call my father"


Me:

"Did he ever self-actualize and realize that he was making their lives /his version/ of better? Before he died, did he realize maybe what he thought was better wasn't better for everyone?"


W:

"No.
He was a tsunami that changed everything he touched. We girls
respected him.

Listen to me, hah.
talking about such things, on a toilet.
I have no dignity left.
We have to laugh.
Am I crazy?

Me:

"You're no more crazy than I am.
Who wants to be sane? That's no fun".

W:

"That's right!
If you can't laugh,
you die".

Me:

"Earlier, to describe yourself
as a child, you said
you were "Evil".
Do you beleive that part of the reason you were so "evil"
was because you were beautiful?
And you knew it?".




W:

She paused for a moment and pursed her lips in contemplation.
...

"Yes."

The woman nods a slow turtles nod, with both eyes shut and squinting and a pouted mouth.
Her puckered lips fade into a smile.

"Yes, absolutely It was".

I want you to know that you are precious to me.

Not precious like some rare stone around a ring finger or
a sentimental gift.

precious like a photograph of a child in your wallet.
precious like a young girl finding kitten wearing red ribbon under her Christmas tree.
precious like a young girl holding cardboard box kitten.
precious like a mother Glowing. singing to her belly
precious like a mother holding a cardboard box.
precious like ashes on a fireplace.
precious like a photograph in a wallet.

see, when I met you.
we had no idea how long we'd love each other.
we didn't question we did.

when you said you were leaving.
I Asked, "do you have a bucket list?"

What's next?
We did everything on it.
Went skinny dipping,
Climbed a rooftop
Went to a seafood restaurant
Because, you hadn't yet.

Then the day before you left you said:
"I love you"
quiet.
underneath your breath, so I wouldn't notice.

"what was that?"
I would ****.
You'd turn 50 shades of red.

"You've sure been sending a lot of hearts through text lately.
did you say you love me?"

You nodded, but never spoke up.

I kissed you.
"I love you too."

You didn't say it again for awhile, but,
I did.
So many times that I lost track
then every once in awhile
1,595 Miles away.
you'd send me a facebook message
you were wearing my cologne, you missed me, you loved me.

I would glow brighter than the moon each time.

Now you're coming back.
In just one week I get to hold you again.
kiss you again.
like a photograph jumping out of it's film to breath.
You are so precious to me.
Just thinking about touching your hand.
looking you in the eyes to hear you say any words to me.
Listen to your dreams, Build us a living room, and Make them happen!
because every precious thing happens there.
A fireplace, a Christmas tree, a carpet covered in pointy children's toys.
Your clumsy body and my clumsy body, interlocking fingers watching pointless Television.

Because we can.
Because you're home.

The broncos won And I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was too busy
washing trash cans.
Heard about it through some magic rectangle.
The kids call "social media"

about all the different things
Lady Gaga looked like when
she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser,
pizza rolls,
Dolly Parton
Because one time Dolly Parton wore a red suit, Which I thought was kind of a stretch.
I saw a commercial saying that more than
400,000 babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think I've ever been less ****
than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man
Half covered in Beer and nacho grease stains
And goes "oh baby,
that buffalo sauce gets me so wet"
"I just wanna grab a fist full of your hair
bend you over these pizza boxes an~"
"No"
"No"
"N~I mean, I'd be into it"
"No"

My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
They have her doing laundry in a musty basement with
middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
"Ruins the magic" she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked
doing her make up
Wig cap and undergarments.
Snow white with her nose up
asking for kombucha
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
Who says these princesses
would sooner **** a man covered in nacho grease.
Then show her any respect.

I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray
when they yell
"CUT! "
and the actors go back to their miserable lives, 
I figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making a livable wage is our life term goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good miracle.

Like when she found out she was pregnant.
Was
She had already lost him.
Or her
I was over 3,000 miles away
With another man
she was drinking herself to sleep
Praying to some porcelain god for me to stop
I'm sure the morning sickness didn't help
Her depression
Or hangovers.
Or the will to tell me, The man already greiving over one lost daughter
we had lost another.
Before we even knew she was there.
I only tell her I love her.

She says she needs me around
because I’m a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But I love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens
half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets.
And her still believing in magic.
She gives me something to dream about
while I wash these trash cans.

Like watching hairspray together
Her bending me over some chicken wings.
Our little Princess.

My eyes have no whites.
My age, gave me stale white sheets
White light, black curtains.

In the audio recording you sent me
An hour of touching yourself
punishment for misbehavior

you giggled and cried at the same time

The "Oh, ****"'s
"dear, God"'s
They built up inside

screaming for the pain to stop
With a trembling whimper.
"This is fun, but I can't wait 'till it's over"

If only you had said this sooner
In the daylight
We could have known
Time was running out.

We were never so honest
as our ***
Not even to ourselves

Collaborate on a spotify playlist that will play on shuffle in my casket after I go.
I want you to add songs you want me to feel the radio signals of.
We know we feel music with a fifth sense,
A full body ASMR tingle
Whispers of russian woman fixing our robot parts.
Well I can't hear you, speak, move or eat
But bones vibrate to soundwaves just the same.
Give my casket the best **** bass you can find.
Bass that will wake the dead.
Rattle me like an instrument the way you plucked strigs while we were alive
You have control over what i hear after I go
So you may play me music beautiful as we played in the space between our fingertips

Play spotify in my casket
Only you and those i trust have access to adding songs.

But don't add garbage music.
Because I swear, I will haunt you.

Having a partner with mental illness is not a low-level quest.

Having a partner with mental illness is debatably the best quest in the game and has incredibly valuable Loot.

"I am farming so much exp off of this argument right now."

"I just scored some mad reputation points with your parents."

"Hey, can we do that over again? I didn't get the drop I wanted."

Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier

I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton

You're right. It's totally her ***.
Ugly Faces - Watsky

Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything

Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion

Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX

Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement

I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted

Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords

I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
You Don't Have To Be A ******* - Flight Of The Concords

You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons

No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table

Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit

Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok

I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.

That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa

******* spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go

Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto

No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona

I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo

That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers

Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.

I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
*Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.

I once sold a hair straightener to a woman going through keemo

I once sold a a weight loss supplement to a girl struggling with anoerexia.

I once sold female libido enhancers to a forty year old man.

Sold a car to a Parapalegic

Sold a telephone to a deff woman.

I once sold a child an imaginary friend.
And a Vaccuum for their sandbox.

I once sold a soul to a telemarketing company.

They paid me in biweekly installments.
And they got a hell of a deal.

I spent years of my life in a fantasy world.

Well. Lots of fantasy worlds.

My clothes were cooler
Voice smoother

Choices simpler.

You finish quests, unlock gods, Slay dragons
.
When my DnD group broke up I thought:

If I'm not the gnome bard or the elven ranger or the dwarven barbarian

Who am I?

The answer:

I'm the kid,

Who was doodling demons in the corners of classrooms.

Who didn't quite make it through the pacer test in one peice.

Who spoke up a little too loud about religion and not loud enough about being bullied.

Who didn't have party's to go to because he was to busy with his party of heroes.

Who will I be now?

I can write my charecter sheet however I want too.

Natural Twenty on my charisma

Critical hit my failures

Damage reduction on Haters.

In real life, I paint my face on blank canvas

I have one simple goal.

I want to levitate slightly off of the ground

While summoning an undead army and shooting fireballs from the sky.

I might not get there.

I'll be ****** though, if I don't roll for it.

4/12/17

At 8pm, it is the changing of hats
in assisted living
It is time I releive a woman
from sitting in the dark
waiting for our paycheck to die.
She survived one more shift.
it is my turn at this game of russian roulette.
I meet so many strangers this way,
Each night before I sit, and wait for doors to close
I take oppurtunity to watch one open
Ask the new surviver to tell me their story.
and Write them down.

she moved across the countrey
away from her sister
a divorce from her beleifs.
sister Against God.
I empathize
How hard to move across The world,
pack up your morals
move in with your ex sisters ex husband.
I promptly told her I was polyamorous.
That my lover moved to ireland
To live with her husband
Packed up everything
She did not flinch.
I held this stranger
as she cried on my shoulder
She
in the fifteen moments I saw her
Realized
the world of differences between us.
She can find comfort in solitude
never once knew what I thought
of her Morals
How In my family
we celebrate divorce
how all burning houses are Phoenix fires
abusers can nametag forever
nametag your body is my body
Nametag husband
I worry for her safety.
A woman who doesn't beleive
in the word stop.
Doesn't consider leaving
my biggest fear is those
afraid to weild the word no.
to close the door.

she closes the door
I sit in the dark to my journal
I write down this poem beside a dying man.
the next contestant releives me at 8am.
I pass her the revolver.
I have survived this round of russian roulette.
He died the next night
and it does not feel like winning.
I live in the world of
revolving doors and revolvers
I wish to be the bullet.
pass through their skull as they go
see what they were thinking
In that last moment.

Lets have rough ***
in the courtyard of our kingdom
while the peasants and jester watch.

"Is that the king?"
"Yes. Both of them,
****. Did he just hit h~?"
"Yup. That was a moan."
Pan flutes.
Lutes.
purple green and gold garb.
There's a bunch of knights training in archery
and somebody in a far corner of some ocean
plotting to ride their horses here and declare seige.
But right now
it's the first of may
and we're just throwing each other around on the grass
under the flag of our castle
that we founded on voyeurism and being good at what we do
Which today is rough ***
In the grass
Of a game of thrones set.

Autumn squash soup sits on window sill of cardboard boxes.
Pumpkin pie wafts down alleyway
sits against a house.
The earthy colored scarfs. The brown boots and the blue glow from the 360 degree moon.
All look beautiful on you.

The speed limit is 30 miles an hour here
But i've been going 45 And I never look at my speedometer.
When the cop lights shine behind me glowing white and red and blue
I'm reminded why in fall, the color orange doesn't scare me.

I get a knock knock on my window from a man dressed in blue.
And when he asks me if i'm guilty i can't help but dream of you.

It's still fall season.
And I don't have snow tires yet.
But the weather man in my head said i've got time.
Mr. Officer in response to your question
Yes, I know why you pulled me over.
It seems that i'm on roadside trial for daydreaming.
And that slightly blue glow from the 360 degree moon sure does look great against your blue suit.
Mr. Officer. The color orange doesn't scare me.
Pumpkin carving flicker glow
Lantern guide you too your child home
While your there is there a rope swing?
Is the grass cut? Are you dreaming?
Is there a pie in the windowsill?
Because the baker inside.
waits for me tonight.
And i've been apple picking lazer tag
Holding soft hands in a graveyard.
Singing showtunes in our costumes that we struggled to sew together.

Mr officer. Do you even like pie?
Do you dream the scent and flavors?
Does it linger in your mouth?

Because to be honest
I think I'm going to love her.

rock smashes scissors
break our swords
Scissors cut paper
tear up our poetry
paper covers rock.
shielded by policy

we have our voices.
all rock, all scissor, all paper.
all spock, all lizard
we do not play games, we Speak.
We throw spock hands like Gang signs
spit parsel tongue at pride haters
we write love letters to revolution
We cut red tape with our long fuzes
Hit rock bottom, more bass in our
Voices than god knows what to do with
So we tell him exactlly where it should go.

Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock

They hold their pens like scissors
carving history books into erasure poems

We would swing our pens like swords.
But no leader we trust has been elected yet.

We would have a leader to guide us
But snakeoil salesmen plague our trenches.

There would be no snakeoil salesmen if
we had a stable government

We would have a stable government
but the stability was sharpied out of our history books.

And To history, loud voices sound
like the fires of god.
And are we not the voices with more bass then God knows what to do with.
without words on the wind,
There is no flame
so aren't we fire.

We all have tealights waiting in cold oven hearts.
stone hearths begging for Ignition
eager for bootleg promises of warmth
The orange rhetoric of our future
no warmer than tinders logo.
or a video recording of a fireplace
flickering on a flatscreen at best buy.
We are distracted constantly.
misdirected by Houses of paper cards
origami swans we don't dare unfold
Staying ignorant of the tire track liner inside.
origami swans are so much more beautiful
when they have secrets, right?

I have a matchstick
watch me strike it lit
flare this paper swan into a pheonix.
And hold it in my fist.
there will be fire.
and it will not be a metaphor
But It will be a revolution
And it will be a pheonix
and the pheonix WILL be a metaphor

The Rabbi at Temple Beth El
said when a mans consumed by gods fire
it is a severance from faith, a spiritual death.
what have we done
if not lost faith in our government?
Been consumed by the fires of god.
and why not tattoo pheonix feathers
on our backs?
at least this death gave us warmth.
a home in the world's ashes.

I stared at the dragons fire that stormed towards me
thanked it for the oppurtunity
to walk out of this world
holding dragons eggs
Like Daneris Tygareon
and they will be real dragons.
incubated by REAL fire
despite this crumbling cataclysm
you call a great america.
Spock handed Lizards larger and louder
with all the rocks
paper and scissors they need
to set the world on fire.
To Finally see something beautiful be born.
A Home that keeps them warm.

I got a knock on my door about a week after the break up.

"Can I come in?"
Honestly, I didn't know if she could.
"Where is she?"
"Her grandparents" she said, stepping inside.
It turns out ex-girlfriends are not like vampires,
They may, in fact, walk in uninvited.

"What have you been up to?" I ask,
As I close the door behind her.

"Work. You?"

"I had *** with a girl in Kennebunk"

"Oh, let me guess, nerdy with an irish face?"
She knew my type.

"No actually, Egyptian... I know, weird"

We walk up to the bedroom.
I try to hold her hand,
But she pulls away.

"I miss you."
"I miss you too," she says, "but it will make things harder,
You know that."

"Did you **** him yet?"
She doesn't look at me.

"So yes. When? How long did it take?"
"Nick, you don't need to know"

"I need to know, more than anything. When?"

"That night."
"The night I called you?"
She's quiet.

We decide that since we aren't together anymore,
It'd be a good idea to confess
All of the things we lied about over the years
So it'd be easier to hate each other.

We circle around the bed taking turns.
Getting angrier, and angrier.

"As soon as I walked in their door
His girlfriend stripped all my clothes off.
She didn't even let me say hello."

"Well you know that love song
I wrote for you?
It was actually for my ex girlfriend."

"He said I was great at riding him,
And when we were done,
We smoked a bowl and cuddled."

"You cuddled!?"

"Yes. Cuddled."

"I want, just.
To *******."

"Then do it."

I fade awake with her naked body draped over me
Like the world's most comfortable blanket.

This is the last time I get to feel this happy.
Like a dream.
Safe. Comfortable. Warm.

As I open my eyes,
I see the empty room.
Her things are already gone.
She is a foreign object in my bed.

Her once delicate touch turns
Hot coal and burns me.
I jump back and bury
My head in my hands.
The room starts spinning.
I don't love her, I'm not happy,
We aren't happy.
I hate her. I hate this room.
I hate myself.
I want everything to just go!
"Put your clothes on and just go!"

She is awake now.
She reaches for my phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Do you know my number?"
"I don't have it memorized."
"Good."
She hands me back my phone.
"If I need you, I'll call you."

She leaves.
Forever this time.
It turns out I was wrong.
Ex-girlfriends are exactly,
Like vampires.

imagine a big dragon
Are you doing it?

"ye"

what color is it?

"b-blue and yellow"

Blue and yellow. Cute! Isss it big as godzilla?

"no, it's smaller
likee the size of a horse"

Dats a smol dragon
I like him.

"its not smallllllllllll
a smol dragon would be like, a neck dragon
hes big, just not hugeeeeeee"

Ohhhh okay. He's a big dragon, but not huge.
His teeth are like little point pearls
do you see how shiny they are?
and pink

"why are his teeth pink"

They are pearls.

"but pearls are white"

then his toofers are white.

"gooood
good hygeine"

Mhmm
One of those pearls in his dragon maw
his little baby toofeers
thats you

"why?"

because than you can fly with him everywhere.
Just imagine looking down through his mouth at the cityyy
as he flyyyys
and sitting all nestled in his lip
Blue and yellow leather
He could sing you storiessss and brushes his toofers so his breath would be warm but not stinky

"gooooooooooooooooooood!
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwhhhh­hhhhh :3"

"My small tenant" He says to you.
as you crawl out of his gum and walk out onto his tongue.

What is your dragon houses name?

"his name is roxy"

He's making a very silly face, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes to talk to you
he sounds silly too
talking with his tongue out
"Welcome Home. "

"i loveeeeee"

Roxy the Blue and yellow Horse sized Dragon House.
"Ready to slide?"
he asks you

"alwayyyyyyyyyyys"

he swallows you
it's very slippery and fun!
like a water slide
And is warm, but not smelly becaus he brushes his teeth
you fly over muscles and liquids and tongue and land on a biiiig trampoline
You can hear Roxy from all around you, quite loud "Having fun, my tennant?"
You are the small size, or a dragons tooth.

"good :3"

"uh oh!" He cries
you see fire from his back
it's zooming towards you!

"nooooooooooo run awaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy"

You run up towards his tongue and trip into the sticky icky
The fire is warm and tingles oup your back
then is over
and you standup, the back of your clothes all burnt off and your front all sticky icky
"I'm sorry, tennant"
"I sneezed"

"its oki roxy."

Roxy fashions their tongue like a staircase for you to come back outside

"daddy? Im sleepy... Can we finish the story tomorrow night?"

me too Babygurl. ^^
Yes we can

"yay!!!!!!!"

Good night

"ninighht daddy. sleeeepppppp well.
i love you"

I love you too baby girl ^^
Sweet dreams.

You curl up in roxys empty tooth spot, he covers you in his blanket tongue. it is warm. but not stinky. and you drift soft to sleep
"Good night, Tenant"
"I love you"

"i love you ttooo roxy."

You were born bone
I became tattoo
flesh tethered your scaffolding
Under my beautiful scars

Thin paint, Stinging red
Constellations of wings
Left them with fingernails
Your soft shoulderblades
snug under pale skin

A bit lip tease soft blonde hairs one by one
Down tips underneath
the divet in your neck.
I admire the canvas of your spine back to me, all red wing stinging.
Ready to fly off
Moving thigh and held
Shifting maroon blankets.
My mouth smirks
Attempts to hide how desperate
To taste it is.

Sweet bird. Sweet angel.
Awake all night
With a tattoo of an arrow
And her hand
Pressed to her forehead.

A glass of water.
Towel held like a childs blanket.
Still white.
Even used, it is still fresh linen smell.
We are still fresh linen smell.
Your hipbones agree.
My thumbs asked them.

I kiss your feathers gentle and let them burn softly as I trail down.

Your whimpers send me skyward.
Lighter headed now
Tight cheeked.

More rustled blanket
Your thigh dances over hipbones.
I feel the tethers between bone and canvas
Scar and silk.
Warm in these wings
Stars in this constellation.

Today, I want to sink my chest into yours.
Your heart pumping blood through my veins for a bit, mine doesn't want to anymore.
Let's trade.
I'll put my brain on ice.
Wash this skull cavity with some minty fresh chemical while my wrinkled pink mother board discovers cryogenics.
When I place it back Into my tingly, almost numb now, chemical washed head
I will still feel heavy.
I want to turn to a whisp.
Like the Night Elves in World of Warcraft.
A floating blue orb of energy
Just a spirit, weightless.
Let me live as electricity, like that spark you felt .
Like that spark they all felt.
Place me in the power lines so I can power houselights and televisions.
Let me be usefull for something again.
Don't convert my head though.
Keep that on Ice.
Better still, creamate
everything but my heart.
Let the ashes get caught
in carpets and drain pipes
Kept in little ziplock baggies,
Tucked in a wooden box,
Kept back seat of my mothers car,
So she can hold it once in awhile.
Until she parks her car in a bad part of town
And a homeless man breaks in
Doesn't steal the gps, or her wallet on the front seat,
But snorts me three hours later
Thinking he just hit the jack ***.
That's where I want to be.

In the lungs of some car burglar
Where his addiction should have been,
coughing on my ashes.

He won't get my heart though.
Keep that frozen in a white room.
Smelling of copper, by a tray of tools,
Latex gloves and paper masks.

One day, thaw it out
bring life to someone.

You ****** exotic,
beautiful creature.
Here we are again
I made sure to not be tardy this time
Which was easy since you moved ten minutes away
You called me seven times on the
walk from the parking lot, to your front door.
On the fourth call you mentioned pouring another shot of Jim Beam
So no, I will not be ******* you.
I am obligated to let you know I am a mess.
That is, I would have told you I am a mess
If you didn't mute me by providing more then enough proof it was mutual.
you said lets dump our boyfriends
date each other
Poly wouldn't be enough attention for you
Who have passed self destructive
into destroyed.
With your unzipped *** stained lingerie and ****** that I found
Still inside you.
you forgot it was there when you asked me to *******
the next morning
After my fifteenth no.

God bless that ******
Caution tape boon from some deity I should pray to more often.
Blessing me with one last chance to think before my actions.
That ****** saved me from any number of potential tragedies.
Yes I was disgusted
Not because the cotton string was mistaken originally for some sort of ***** rat tail.
Not because I imagined for a breif moment, a tiny sufficated animal
who got a little to curious.
Not because you were offended I wouldn't yank it out and ******* anyway,
instead of assuming it was a sign
I should stop my hands.
Go to bed.
Disgusted at myself.
if not for that magical used ******
from what I assume to be
the God of a full eight hours of sleep and
Inverted libido
I would have let myself be seduced Into spiraling back into ******* the pain away.

I've worked too hard at reminding myself who I am.
To let myself be the man who throws away the bruised hearts.
Or drowns them in a sea of bodies.

No.
Now that you've woken me.
Put your body away.
Now that you're sober.
Where is your heart.
Go on, get it.
Beautiful.
God is that a specimen.
Bruised from aorta to base.
Here's mine.
All purple and calloused.
Uncanny isn't it?


almost Identical

We got back together on election day
As they say
When one door opens
Another one is threatened with missiles by China

We did not have the popular vote
Our electoral college hearts didn't care.
We knew our love deserved another term

I stole my girlfriends car to pick you up
Drive us to the voting booth in my old elementary school
It felt like by you entering that building we invented a tine machine

If we actually built a time machine
Do you think we would change the world somehow?
Step on one of our stomach butterflies or **** ******.

when I hear butterfly effect I think of election day
I think of the butterflies in my stomach
Learning how to start the first fire with sticks
How we rub them together
Until the sparks catch
Watch each other become warm
For the first time
All over again

Your legs slide up behind the tiny curtain of the voting booth
They say not to let others know who you vote for
But you were very clear
I've never heard a louder pledge of allegiance from behind such a tiny curtain

We stole the tiny pencil
In exchange for your *******
I think it was a fair trade
I want to see the face of who found those in the ballet box

I wonder if the vote counted.

I feel like firing missiles into the ocean to showcase our willingness to destroy everything for *******

We still don't have the popular vote in our next term

Even after all this legislature
They only remember our campaign slogans
And sound bytes
No one reads bills we pass
Laws we right

We have so much love
It must be run like a country
Our Senate is skeptical of the leadership

Our people are butterflies
Always jumping
Flying
Giddily bumping into walls
And getting back up

If we are so bad at running this country why are the people so healthy?
What makes them sing so loud?

It's the letters we write.
I took our time machine forward

They keep our letters in a muesem
Glass boxes
Display our hearts played out with our poetry
I always knew you deserved the attention.

There's a tank of caterpillars
Children watch them grow and set them free
A living breathing memorial

We really did found something beautiful.

When we passed on
They elected our children to run.
Our love still thrives
Claims territory
Inspires young writers

I saw a young girl reading your letter start to cry
I didn't need to look.
I knew which one it was
You haven't written it yet.

You ask me if having a baby in this world is selfish.

I imagine two stout bodied genderless dwarves.
with beards.
hand pumping a minecart down
subway tracks in Boston.

Hear the rattling
cart wheels along iron tracks.
the crackling fire of a lit torch
Illuminating an obvious macguffin
a glimmering maguyvery boulder
in the side of the tunnel.

This vision is a testament to how well I pay attention
When I have tunnel vision.

One pulled lever slows the minecart to a screaching stop
the dwarves zelda bomb their way inside

There is a man behind it
the size of a mountain
hooked up to a bypap machine
umbilical corded to a television

he does not know whether he is nocturnal,
trusts his wristwatch to tell time
Which was over $5,000 dollars.
trusts this watch
about as far
as he can throw his money away.
So He collects watches.

I ask you.
Does this man sound alive?

Do you think he more closely
resembles a metaphor
For children zombied into media leashes.
another pet to pitch in the graveyard
of working class
blades of grass leaning on the T
nodding off to sleep?

Or is he more like us.
escapists
wandering eyes
With roots in our mattresses
Shackled in the entertainment
Always breathing
inflating never creating.
or breathing out.

Would a child help us out?
would that be selfish?

breath can we still
tubes of oxygen up our noses.
can we rip out the catheder
save with will power
would a child somehow spin
eugenic honey
royal bee propaganda jelly
Would we see the world without sepia
no more screen filters
less headaches
less screen time
advil addiction.
Two less pills taken
comitted to attention.
stuck in tunnel vision
smoke and mirrors
are so shiny after blue pills

This mountain of a man
said to ask the man on the mountain
and I was so deep in my grave
I decided to dig down thinking
If This is hell I must be at the earths
molten core, so the road up
is just as long as the road
in any direction so long as i went straight.
But I change directions all the time.
And I still haven't hit the surface
And I keep building boulders
to keep out the cave rats
and making them obvious,
glimmerig macguffins so adventurers
will zelda bomb them open
and find me sitting here
watching the world go by
losing track of time
But always checking the clock on my wrist.
Because it's so beautiful
and biological.
The ticking is so loud
I'm deafened to the humming
of my oxygen machine.
the television,
screaching minecart breaks
My front door being blown open.
By zelda bombs

I'm stagnant with nothing but
my dreams and a metranome
Counting down to the day
I hate this television enough
To turn it off

Trust this clock enough to turn it back.

For a breif moment hear the
screaching subway tracks
The whirring of my bipap,
The bombs going off
not just at my front door
but all over the world.
blowing open my eyes to see finally

that life isn't worth a bomb shelter.
If I can't be selfish,

**** repopulting the earth.
I am going to paint drooping clocks
eat non-parishables ironically
and Die an honest man.

Self-Examination
Check your vitals

Snap the Nitrile
Up to the elbow

we're gonna stretch and
pull the protector down.

Play an Avant-garde film
no sound, but

I noticed
you spoke it

credits were rolling'
down your cheek

nothing certain but death and taxes
left handed laughing' laxatives
In the coffee of mothers
Who pump out politicians.

This year You scavenged for Christmas
a life worth living
by killing intuition

stash it
in an Easter basket
in silicone lashes

push the ashes together
then burn the mattress
That's the sand.

through fingers, you make a fist
3rd grade principal

pulled you from detention
In a stretcher

white royal flush in the trenches
You fought to be human
all you needed was
a breath of attention

who said you could end it
win it, prescription of tribulations

from whatever God you'd scavenge for Christmas
he put you through it

all the abuses
habits

black and white canvas
silent obscuring angles

You're more than mannequin

who prayed for this madness
who pays for the therapist
If you even have it
who kept you out of church
And into church basements
writes the book of curses
force fed sedative

Says he went to college.
His Suit is stained in coffee
Yet you're the burden with the vices?

The film is over
the light flickers darkness
we sit in the coffin

smoking' and screaming'
blood is flowing, but there's

no fire
we're just speaking'

what happens after 3AM
witching hour that one scene

when the camera angle was
blurry.

it spoke to me
said self examination can't be

latex
you gotta s
nitrile

they're cut resistant
cover five fingers

not just one appendage.
Blue hands protect you

more than a stranger
so button your blanket

take down the black curtains
sun was always shining,

closed it
to blurry our focus

could take our Macguyver theater
wallpaper canvas stretching

hit us in the temple
like a parshah

finished another session
the blessing of human language

the messenger
malakh, without expectation

we fumble to understand
Scalpel in hand,

ventricle in tact
we're just holding' a feather pen
stick our hands in the past

take a look in the mirror
And write it all down.

https://soundcloud.com/nicholas-coulombe/self-examination

In my family.
We never lock the bathroom door.
we are not prudish,
we acknowledge that if we're taking a shower
someone might need to ****.

"If I keel over and die in there I want you to be able to find me
Not have to hire a godamned locksmith.
By the time he shows up
I'll have stunk up the place
Even worse than this ****,
And you'll have a hell of a time washing that out of the carpet"

For some reason, This confuses guests.

I'll never forget the day I was cooking scrambled eggs.
My date opened up the bathroom door.

in all her glory my 62 year old bapbap smiled at her from the toilet
"hey sweety, whatcha need?"

One of them was red and screaming
And it wasn't my Bapbap.

Last week I was taking a shower when I heard the phone go off behind my loud music.

My grandpa busts through the door with phone in Hand.
"Nicholas!"
Yes papa? I respond orderlly.
jumping naked quick out the shower
Assuming he was in pain.
Or needed medical attention.

Tell me what she's sayin'
he holds a phone out to me.
he's mildly frustrated, but healthy.
my wet hand takes on the phone.
She mumbles on the other end underneath my music.
"Huh?" I say.
Fumble for my spotify to turn my music off.
"sorry I couldn't hear you over my music. I'm in the shower."
"oh I'm sorry sir, We're moving dons appointment to this Tuesday. Is that okay?"
"They wanna move your appointment to tuesday. You okay with that?"
"oh jesus, christ. yeah that's okay."
Papa was not in need of any medical attention.
But now that my heart was beating a hundred miles a minute
I thought perhaps
I would soon
So when papa hobbled out,
I left the door unlocked.

In your Sillouette,
Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain.
This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies.
I am lingering.

You are gilded beautiful
Bare ******* pointed at Chandeliers
****** Capstones sealing perfect Arches
I am a foot protruding from your sculpture
In mustard.
I am that blot behind your Hip Bone

Cold Draft from the window
Opened Opposite the Magic curtain
A breath of ocean waves
Our bodies casting illusions
In ripples of Moonlit fabric
Dancing around our sillouette.

Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos
Silk screen thighs,
Underbust Corset

where the breeze whispered

where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones.
growing where we Calloused
In our Roughs
In our trenches
Rubbing Leather against Silk

You invested in our common interest.
A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling.
Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices.
Ownership,
And your body.

I love the Chips in your paint.
I hate the man who painted you.

infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism
Sick with a Spiderweb brain
Spinning from your imperfections.
You are so, perfect.

Artists come from all over
To watch the magic curtain.

Your Golden arching Back.
My Mustard Toes.

we all look at you,
even you look at you.
we do not Blink.
Just stare, position ourselves.
behind this curtain.

Our callouses grow like the black moss
bodies marble under ocean pressure
erode from the chill winds
Your archaic exhibitionism
Carved From Counting Gazes
Mustard eternally pondering
why our sillouettes, different colors
Drawn by the same moon,
Casted on the same cloth.

"SIR! How do we silence anxiety? Sir."

Welcome to the new era,
A-dread-alized Motivation

We Swept concrete
under bombshelter rugs

Wept skyscraper scaffolding
Twin tears down construction worker cheekbones.
Dangling off plywood
Staring at their lunchmeat
In silliphane
Placing it back
Closing their eyes

The sun rise past the construction
Shone red and yellow
Orange and black
War in the winds

We all knew that there could be only one thing to silence the Trembling fingers
still left shaking
from the resurrection
of our ancesters sins.

The uncertainty of our nationalism,
or ability to breathe. A tragedy
to bond us. Glued
to the severance of anxiety horizens.
"The New Era"
Stapled to the door frame.

Green now in the sky
They painted the missiles gold
so we'd know who sent them.

Waves came
Tore cartilage from the floor boards.
Fires came
Swept veins up in the smoke
a plague would have come,  
but the world glazed over with laughter.

labeled allergies a
coping mechanism
in the face of cataclysm
We swore at each other
Didn't blame god.
For once

This time we didn't want to curse
gods name that way.
Not when we knew our aggressor

The rich had bombshelter elbows
The beautiful had lips like
plane tickets

You stand accused of revolution
Influence,
motivation, rebellion!
PAYING ATTENTION
What do you have to say for yourself?

Says Judge Judy.
to the artists.
All of them.

Shackled in front of ovens,
Brothers and Sisters of rainbow skin

Motivators aren't needed when you're "Silencing Anxiety" She says.

A general in the white house asks:
"They're all too loud.
How do we unleash genocide
for a whole generation?"
And this *******,
Gaunt in the corner?
Says suicide.

Skyscrape city
Land of Construction and Buying Local
I stand here. Metallic red spandex
sweat collecting in my mask.

down the street a band of thieves
bang and clang loudly in The local bar
Not-so-cleverly named: The Tavern
"AYE!" says the largest drunken-est one.
"what cries first when you **** a girl?"
"her Eyes or 'Er heart?"
His filthy men take their guesses.
"Eyes!"
"Heart!"
"WRONG!" says Kane. "'Her Mother"
They all laugh, at the honesty.
Clang their tankards loudly!

These Bandits are a problem.
Some sort of Super Hero needs to bust in there and put an end to this.
which is kind of why the crime rate here is so high.
Because that's not what I do at all.
I'm just a 20-year old man playing dress up.

Monday Morning I call my friend Max
All I say is "Meet me at the mall ASAP"
Before I hang up.
From behind me I hear
"I'm already here, man."
I twist my head up and look around to find Max holding a Nerf gun pointed right at me.
Pop!
"What's The Plan?" he asks.
I kneel down to claim the Nerf dart.
Hold it tightly in my fingers.
"By the end of this day Max,
We're going to be Super Heroes."

We Travel around town searching for the perfect costumes.
First stop: ***** sporting goods.
We buy Mace
Air horns.
Kneepads
Under Armor Spandex, with armor pads!
"Dude! You look like military aqua man!" says Max
in that split second we had the same thought.
"Military."
we stop by the army surplus store:
buy gun holsters,
utility belts, Ammo pouches.
Never bought guns,
We just wanted to look cool.
Max spots a German machete
"Nick."
He glows, holding it, looking up to me.
"Yes." I say.
In a glass case full of various knives and daggers I spy something Precious.
Bladed playing cards.
"They're perfect." I say.
Max looks over my shoulder.
"You don't even know how to throw regular playing cards."
"Shhh, Max, I'm having a moment."
I hand the store owner a magical plastic rectangle
When we're done we Plop our shopping bags down in an alleyway.
it's dark now.
Dark enough to Slip into our New spandex armor.
Click Fasten our leg holsters
we spent our whole day shopping, for this moment.
Max holds out his machete and starts swinging it around.
"Max you don't even know how to wield that thing."
"Like you do."
cheque pants step out the side of a building and haul some trash bags into a nearby dumpster.
Then spots us.
"What're you kids doing!"
"Ahhh!" Jumped max as he lunged at the mans head with his machete.
"MAX!"
It was too late.
blood gushed from The guys skull
He slide down against the wall.
Max backs up slowly. speechless. wide-eyed.
"We Need to tell someone about this. right now."
We'll them a crazy murderer showed up and killed this guy."
"while we were changing?"
into our super hero costumes?"
We'll leave out some details max! We're lying! Let's go!
We Burst out of the Alley towards town.
"QUICK! In here!"
A Sign on the front wall read:
The Tavern
We dashed inside.
Men are laughing loudly, clanging their tankards drunkenly.

Then laughter stops.
Only the faint sound of pub music in the background covering what otherwise would be Crickets.
Eyes all fasten and glare at max and I
Snickers and giggles start poking fun at our outfits.
"Hey Kane, get a look at these queers."
"This ain't no gay bar boys, get a move on"

I finally Piped up through The gum of my throat.
"SOMEONE IS DEAD!
Blood everywhere!
Need..
Call...
Police!"
"Phew! I need to run more."

A Small bald man whispers to Kane
"Boss They must have found her."
Kanes Eyes go wide
"Boys!"
The men slowly rise from their seats and advance
Two of them slide behind us
Blockading the door
Large hands vault us toward the center of the room.
"You told the wrong Bar, boys" Says a bandit.
Quickly, I fumble through my pouches.
Try to whip out a bladed playing card and throw it at one of them.
As I flick, my finger gets sliced
Stings.
The Playing card clangs against the ground as I nurse my finger to my mouth.
they all laugh
"Oh look! he thinks he's some kind of Ninja" Shouts Kane. "HA!"

a bandit grabs my arms, twists them back hoists me up.
Max takes a swing at a bandit
It hits him much like a pillow.
A ***** eyed stare from max looks to the man as he Drives max right in the jaw and sends him sailing to the ground.
His lip bleeding.
Max reaches into his pocket.
fingers clasp firmly.
Closes his eyes.
LAYS LOUDLY THE AIR HORN!
The bandits jump back and cover their ears.
While the bandits hd their ears I escape the grapple.
I drop, reach for my mace,
Jump back
spray him in the eyes.
"MAX!
LETS GO!"
we run towards the door,
Still laying on the Horn.
Kane Stands in the way.
Grinning.
I finger a Playing card in my pocket.
Better get good at this fast.
Wrist flick
It flys through the air
Bee lines straight for him.
Straight in the eyeball!
"AHH!" His hands fly too his face in pain.
His fingers clench the card
He braces readying himself to pull.
We Bust out of there.
Run down the street.

flashing red and blue lights glow from out of the alley.
We peak around the caution taped wall
A cop is searching our wallets,
He Pulls out our I.D's
"Leave our **** Nick, let's go."
"But, My coffee mug!"
"But, cops nick! But our wallets nick! How about our clothes!  Our homework. My machete!"
The cop looks over towards us and we press fast behind the wall.
Max and I look at each other
Nod.
Race off over a brick hill
Around a Tower,
Into a parking garage,
we book it down
flight after flight of staircase into the basement.
Thump against the cement wall.
Gasping for air.
"Max." breath
"Yeah?" breathe
"It happened."

A snake doesn't just throw shade
We thrive in the shadows
Stalking our prey,
Think you've got what it takes
We'll swallow you whole.

I dare the kittens birdys & roadkill
To make a mistake
You really think your house spits
poison Better than a snake?

Our Partsel tongue is "forked for her pleasure"
Each time we seal a letter
witches get wetter

other houses cringe at our fame
cold blooded killers

don't buy it? Just wait.
Our Snakeoil salesman
Will Have you beggin' for change

You dare to stand against a python?
You don't even know code

I can't pull punches
if I don't have hands, Bro.

Like medusas hair dresser
Expect-to petrify
Better call Cobra
Get insurance for your life.
What's the matter
Gonna cry?
Because We can't.
Ask science.

I dare you to challenge
My Reptilian brethren

We're Unhinging our jaw
getting fed like it's league of legends.

Look into the mirror and Smile
Greet every customer with a warm Smile
Close your eyes alone and Smile
Think about the war and Smile
Imagine your daughter and smile
Leave your troubles at the door and Smile
Black out, wake up without a mother and Smile
Smile for the camera
Smile
Smile
Smile
Look I know you're depressed but Smile
Maybe you'll be happier if you Smile
I heard you can trick your body's chemicals into thinking you're happy if you just Smile
I didn't say be happy, I said Smile

Smoke a cigarette and Smile
Look your ****** in the toes and Smile
Put your makeup on and Smile
Pour a fresh cup of coffee and Smile
Hold their hand, look at the stars and Smile
Shut the **** up and Smile
Sit at the bottom of your shower and Smile
Empty this bottle and Smile
Lose your lifes fourtune at blackjack and Smile
Take this pill and Smile

Stop Smiling
Why are you still Smiling?
Is that all you can ******* do?
SMILE?
Smile
Like this contortion of flesh is taking a punch
Smile
Because this curvature is a war on hatred
Smile
Like a curse word
Like body armor
Like a paycheck

Smile.

Snake

The snake sits coiled in on himself
low in the dark ground
props his heavy head against the wall
he is sick and cold
it's in his blood to be sick and cold
he's too afraid to ****
knows he can swallow a rabbit whole
but doesn't want to see the rabbit leave
everyone loves the rabbit
so he turns invisible
becomes the dotted line on the floorboards
sinks into the heavy air
sometimes the snake can feel his venom leak out into his teeth
feels sickness in his belly
festering purple words in his mouth
too sick to be hungry
the snake takes to the ceiling
he likes how nobody looks for him
he can just watch
be silent
the snake loves to watch
listen to the goat bleat
or the rabbit make a scene and twitch around
it's quiet and peaceful and he can't be trampled
he can just coil up and love them all
if he is quiet nobody will know he is sick
they will only see his friends, the goat and the rabbit

Goat

The Goat Loves to be pet.
to be milked
trade himself for the love of another
to marry, sacrificial Goat.
viscera and smoke for the gods to be nourished
The Goat always comes back to life
Bones whole like the Milk, Zeus fed him
Rewarded with immortality for his submission
the goat lives like he knows he's immortal
does not listen to reason
acts on gut instinct
he has four gut instincts
they never agree with each other
the goat still has one horn
the second was shaved and polished so he did not
harm anyone
the first stomach breaks it down
the second passes it through without much thought
the third feels sick as it passes
the fourth sends it's nutrients through the body
The Goat feels a mixture of fulfilled and tricked.
he is still not certain if it was worth it
but sacrifice is familiar to the goat.


Rabbit

The rabbit thumps his big white feet against the door
sends it flying into the bar.
all eyes
twitchy hops
busted hinges
door frame
his bright white fur,
blue glitter suit
chatters his teeth
in approval of the attention
finger guns his new audience
his manic smile
huge attentive eyes
take in the room
glow as he speaks
fast and clear
commanding everyone stand
form a circle
most of them do
except the snake hugs the ceiling unnoticed
the goat has no motivation to participate
Goat distracted by his sketchbook.
Goat is drawing the snake
the snake is coiled up trying to disappear
Snake does not want to think about the goat watching
wishes for the goat to just watch the rabbit.
the snake is upset and can't sleep
the room is all dancing now
spiraling around the rabbit and laughing.
the rabbit leaves the circle and sits next to the goat
rabbit asks what the goat is drawing.
the goat points at the snake and says

"there is a beautiful creature that the world deserves to hear about"
the rabbit agrees
says how phenomenal an artist the goat is.
rabbit looks at the goat in his rectangular slit eyes
delicately touches the goats polished horn nub.
the goat leans into the rabbit and feels comfortable
the snake is very happy the goat stopped drawing to cuddle the rabbit
and starts to smile
less sick with less attention
up here alone without being seen
he can lift up his heavy head again
he looks at the rabbit
the rabbit looks for a split second at the snake
just long enough to wink
rabbit goes back to petting the goat
who is nuzzled into the rabbits chest
as rabbit watches the room of people dancing
all circling as he left them and commanded
the rabbit bathes in his power for a minute
bathes in his love for every creature in this room
how much love he is getting and obedience
complete control and omnipotence
all these individuals
the rabbit is a god in his own mind
he values the snake for watching over the room
values the goat for being immortal
mostly the rabbit values himself
for being their manic god, keeper. protector.

when the room stops dancing they look towards the rabbit
but the snake has descended the wall and eaten the rabbit
the goats gut instinct told him to swallow the snake
the the room looks at the goat
rectangle eyes one polished horn
and a look like he just brought himself together
the venom
from the snake
mellows the vibrations from the rabbit
the rabbis feet give the goat
unfathomable luck
Goat is level headed and looks
at his former dancers no longer under the rabbit spell
all separate
with their own lives
properties
the goat is no god
he is not a shadow like the snake
he is not distracted or indecisive in his art and mind
he just exists. talks.
listens. learns
he shows the room his drawing of the snake
they for the first time feel they are not alone
the goat, the snake, the rabbit, they all understand
they have so much love.
they complete each other.

"How many licks does
It take me, to sleep at the
Center, Officer?"

You punched your mother in the face for trans rights.
you're really moving up
found out you had ******,
want to switch majors
skip town
leave your girlfriend and move in
with the affair
Good job.
you thought it was all an uphill from the bottom
like a country song
lost your grandma
lost your daughter
lost your job.
the roller coaster isn't that simple.
you'll lose your whole life here, kid.
go get tested, you'll figure it out.

smoke cigarettes, get a psychiatrist.
have another panic attack, they're good for ya.
punch your mother in the face, don't even get locked up
count the cuts on your hands
watch the blood pool around your knuckles

you did it because she wouldn't let you call your partner "they".
"Call her an It if you have to, just not they."
well you should have taken that as signature.
left her there wrong.
been higher and mightier,
but you recorded her.
caught it all on tape.
and now she's blocking the door.

She's softer than you remember
weaker
it isn't hard to get her off you
to move her
she can't hold you back.
she can't even cry.
you scream and she won't listen
still you're wrong
millions of voices are wrong to her
"society doesn't think that way nick.
YOU think that way."
"they'll stop saying they, if
YOU stop saying they."

Maybe that's why you fought so **** hard that night.
protecting the audio recording.
of you leading an army
alone
at your own mother.

Of all the things you've looked at and said
"Wow, that's so beautiful."
How many are still there?
Ten?
Maybe just the ocean?

Picture a playground
Swing set jungle gym
Whatevers on a childrens playground
It's behind your house.
You go there twice a week

There's tutus and there's overalls
And there's little horses with springs on the bottom
That are slightly rusted
But they rock back and fourth and don't fall over anyway
Because they're so far
Dug down into that playground tar
It's just, permenant
It takes three men wearing orange vests to pull it out of the ground.
There are memories there.
Some of them are even caught on video
And you
You can't go there again

If you really want me
to waste your time with my superficial sense of adventure

developed over 20 years as the
perfect formula for fun, alright.
I promise you'll see right through it.

You'll realize in a second that all we really need
is whiskey
Netflix
That all these road trips
cigarettes
rooftops mean nothing
give us nothing.
On a regular basis I'd walk in on you cuddling reptiles that litterally can't have any compassion for you.
isn't it just like you to have
compassion for
something that
can't
love
you
back.

I'm not the charecature you deserve

I'm not jacked or covered in ink.
My battlescars aren't from poverty or violence, or consequences of just generally being a bad person.

My "battle scars" are all from loving too much.
I'm so naive that I think they're just as awful as anybody elses.

You won't love me.
Don't get me wrong
If you were truly interested
I'd show up wearing
a box of chocolates in my hands
and not much else.

You are a goddess.
have absolutely no reason to be looking up to me.
I am not that interesting.
It's all a game.
you've been alive long enough to know
the game is *******.

I'm flattered by your peaked interest, willing
to give you the night of your life.
Something tells me you want more than just flashy lights on blank canvas

You want stardust.
Yes, I'll look at the sky with you.
So you might find what you really want.

Part 1

He constantly thinks
About their future
Raising children
A big field to play on
White picket fence to hold it all in
Never liked the idea of
Raising animals
Preferred the two of them
Talking through their problems
He doesn't trust
The media
Saying: buy this, be loud, sell your body
This kind of danger
Not a world to raise children
He loves her
Can't cage this feeling
He is protector
Loves feeling her head on his chest
If only for a moment
He'll never clip her wings
Loves watching her fly
He prays for her to come back
for the children

Part 2

She will leave
Any man who stops her
Loving how she wants to
Without some cage
Wants to run a farm
All the men shes collected
Goats,  Cows, Chickens
Working deep into the hours of the night
Never sleeping
Her life of addiction
Injected into her bloodstream
So she does
What she needs to survive
To love
So many people love her
Always touching, kissing, whispering
One of the many lost souls in this forest
Her hips a curtain call to tragedy
Long enough to need her love
Then she'll leave
Returning only to those she trust
To deliver story books
of goats, cows, chickens


Part 3, Across**

He constantly thinks
she will leave
About their future
any man who stops her
Raising children
loving how she wants to
A big field to play on
without some cage
White picket fence to hold it all in,
wants to run a farm
Never liked the idea of
All the men shes collected
Raising animals,
Goats, cows, chickens
Preferred the two of them
working deep into the hours of the night
Talking through their problems
never sleeping
He doesn't trust
her life of addiction
The media
injected into her bloodstream
Saying: buy this, be loud, sell your body
so she does
This kind of danger
what she needs to survive
Not a world to raise children
to love
He loves her
so many people love her
Can't cage this feeling
always touching, kissing, whispering
He is protector
one of the many lost souls in this forest
Loves feeling her head on his chest
her hips a curtain call to tragedy
If only for a moment
long enough to need her love
He'll never clip her wings
then she'll leave
Loves watching her fly
returning only to those she trust
He prays for her to come back
to deliver story books
for the children  
of goats, cows, chickens

Sometimes when I'm texting Kara
I lose faith in my own words
think it's a good idea to just keep pushing the suggested words button on my phone
Until it keeps repeating itself.

I enter a smiley Face
then let my phone, Lets call him Gary.
Let gary type his feelings out.

"Smiley face. **** sleep! I love you, you just don't need to make them hate you.
when you're done. I wouldn't recommend going home. You'll find that it's rather. . . . . . . ."

As you can imagine,
That did not help my case much.
in the context that this was 3am
she was angry.
And gary left a lot of explaining to do
Like who exactlly does she not need to make hate her?
Her homes rather what?
What the **** are you doing to Karas home Gary?

I'm not always texting Kara when I ride the suggested word generator to lazy random salvation though.

Sometimes I ask it for life advice.

I can just type it questions like
"why do i have toes?"
And it will come out with:
why do i have toes the same time as my grandma was dying and
I was losing my job so Tinder
has kind of been my way of escaping the darkness of my situation
my getting to meet new people and
having tons of awesome dates / adventures / and *** in my car
* glad you came - the wanted * During *** in my car
* glad you came - the wanted * During *** in my car
* glad you came - the wanted * During *** in my car.

And I can't help but assume that it's trying to tell me it understands me.
Or maybe that it's smarter than me.
And is predicting my future.
By warning about my past.

Sometimes friends ask Questions i haven't even answered for myself yet like:
how do I quit drinking coffee? or
how do i stop being an *******?
so I just go consult Gary.

How do you stop cheating on your girlfriend? I enter into garys think box

How do you stop cheating on your girlfriend?
I have a job for you. Men! Escort our guests.
the night pitch black
No moon in the sky.
few stars due to the city of the day?
What kind of music do you like?
what does your bedroom look like?
[ once you're confident in your hot button picture ]
And THAT'S really why you swiped right today, isn't it ( their name )?
[ Wait for response ] Right! So what days are you usually free?
[ Wait for response ] Right! So what days are you usually free?
[ Wait for response ] Right! So what days are you usually free?

I Think Gary just suggested that using tinder for men will stop the urge to cheat.
I have a strange feeling he gives bad advice.
Gary is in my head.
Gary is my head.
He is taking all of my own words
jumbling them all up
And spitting them back out at me

It's almost as if he were programed to do so.

Gary speaks for me when I lose faith in my own words.
Because i have faith in his ability to craft my old words into something laughable.
He does a good job.
I do a good job.
I have a job for you.

I keep waking up to sunsets
Affinity for the moon I suppose.
the fireflies, cold air.

I've felt happier at night my whole life
Sitting in elementery school
popcorn reading
Headphones plugged into a PSP
Blaring mindless self iindulgence
Putting me to sleep through the day
So I could level up my nightelf hunter in World of Warcraft until 5am
And sleep through social anxiety.

For awhile I woke up at 4am to serve you coffee.
Seven years addicted
I loved that too.
Traded coca-cola for drinking it black
My coffees color is the smog in Chicago
This nightlife is my real addiction.
That's why I love the graveyard shift.
Devouring untold stories
assisted living facilities.
This Goldmine of consentrated Wisdom
Parkinsons Orchestra Doctorates.
Politicians prepared for Death

Rabbis still flirting with nurses
remembering the whole torah service by heart
forgetting their wives name.

For my sunset
I like to imagine a big desk
A wall of glass
The top of a grey tower.
I want to Birth a skyscraper.
I want to stand staring out my wall of window back turned to my coffee cup
watch how beautiful stasis can be when you shatter through it.

I like to pretend each sunset
Is a death that wasn't mine.
I like to count the deaths in assisted living
As sunsets.
I like to read obituaries like sunsets.
I keep waking up
To sunsets

Provoked to pour concrete in my mouth
Teeter totter teeth on their final pink strings
In this dream,
a ladybug says "I know I am a spider".
circles her silk weaving shadow  around my honeycomb gums
tumblng through my fingers.
If sand from an hourglass,
My therapist suggests I'd clench my fist.

Today, we have surgery
I sink my chest into yours.
Your blood pumping through my veins for a bit,
I feel heavy.

I want to turn to a whisp.
Like the Night Elves in World of Warcraft.
A floating blue orb of energy
weightless electricity,
Spirit in the power lines, like that spark we felt.
Tealight in a gas stove, left on for 6 months

When I am cremated
My ashes will be Kept in little ziplock baggies,
Filed away in the back seat of my mothers car,
Until she parks in a bad part of town
You break in
Leave the quarters for the tolls
Leave the GPS cupped to the windshield.
Then snort me, in my mothers backseat.
Thinking you just hit the jack ***.
That's where I will be.
Charcoal cave painting your nasal cavity
coating the inside of your lungs like a cigarette.
Replacing your addiction.

This surgery
The Aorta of copper perfume,
Scalpels summoning blood,
I, scavenged from the wreckage

my heart inside you,
the rest scrapped in a kiln.

If they botch the surgery
cold Iron will be the last thing you smell.

I, a spark
grounding from your chest.

Heart still beating.

Demons are born in
the venn diagrams of who
you are vs. who
you want to be.

Eclipsing the hell
portals is the only way
to seal the gate to
mental illness.

the only way to
lasso your planetary
pie charts is to self
actualize.

Teach me how to Kneel
Teach me discipline
Embarrassment.

Teach me martyrdom
tell me it means Nothing.

You can't be a martyr
if you only die
for yourself
you're not a god.

Tell Me I'm not a god
Tell me with your fists
with your spit.
your boot.

Teach me submission
take my pride in your palm
torture it until I am human.

Teach me guilt
Teach me ownership
of my sins. of myself
hold my chains
I need them like fire
needs water
reduce me to embers
when you start to boil
The bubbles are how I know
I've gone too high

I love watching your bubbles trickle in slowly
how quickly they spill over the lip of the kettle

Teach me with boiling water
Teach me with fire
teach me with fear.

I want to beg for it.
Please, make me beg for it.
my life.

if you make me beg for it.
I might want it again.

The Tie is a bib for men.
For different sorts of messes.
No longer exclusively dribble and bile.
Yes, we may use them for mornings
after our red solo sippy cups
time machine us neanderthal.
But men also have other messes to bib tie.

Like:
friendly faces at work.
not friendly faces at work.
faces on ex's at work.
Ex's faces on not friendly faces and other various places at work.

Men bib tie their feelings.
Or at least that's the media stressed norm.
Men can also not bib tie their feelings
Or bib tie the wrong feelings.
bib tie love when it's wrong to feel it.
Bib tie love when it hurts to feel it.
Bib tie their opinions
when speaking to people who disagree
Bib tie the need to look, only...
Touch, just...
Grab, just
Have, just
Use, just....
Put it in the bib tie.
Stuff it right in there.
That's where all your messes go now.

At a funeral, men do not use their bib Tie as Hankie
They let their tears fall.
Bib ties are not tissues.
You do not simply wipe up your mess with a bib tie.

Put the pain inside it
At the end of the day
You take it off.

Put the used up bib tie in patchwork briefcase under bed.
Passed down by fathers.
Full of generations of used up bib ties.
Like ***** dream catchers.

Knotted hands and looped desire.
fastened snuggly into their folds.

If only more men wore Ties.

She wore a fur coat
Made of a lame prophet
'Cause she was blind.

Carried my weight on her shoulders
I suggested she open her eyes
The rest, I had memorized.
So At least when I died
She was always on my mind.

I was a terrible navigator
In the court of god, convicted sinner.
She had a hunger for shape shifters
I fed her.

Soon as the car started,
we parked it.
Leaned the seats back, fogged the doors
I stared at her collarbone
We didn't go far.

Who could have predicted
Her body in a Broken mirror
I was her seer for two years
Shame I couldn't see her

This all could of been different.
Shepard said to lamb
Follow the dog, He knows the road
figured god assumed
My soul was cold
Her soul was coal that warmed the home.
The hearth, the meat, the lame, the blind.
The Golden brown, leaves outside.
The autumn trees like Coffeeshops
call out to me

She Hollows out our her dowry
pollen spread like a dandelion.
Polluted whole cities with seeds

Memories and libraries
The chalk outlines in my mind
All that was left of these things.

So whether you fall or fly
Girl, I'll be singing

If nobody listens, I'll paint the clouds.
If no stare is lifted, I'll shake the ground.
If everyones sleeping,
I'll give them something to dream about.

If nobody sees it, We already lived
a life worth dreaming
so who gives
a **** who pays attention.

Just let the lame guide the blind.
Just let the lame guide the blind
Just let the lame guide the blind