I’m chasing an early grave down Euclid Ave
and no one is looking in the right direction

Did i mention i was on fire?


This is store-bought depression
with the white plastic bag that says THANK YOU in red lettering
Now its turned to blood
This is how you feel
when you can’t recall where you were during 9/11

Give me your mass-produced discontentment

I want to smoke and not die
Sometimes i dont want to die at all
Today the oldest person in the whole-wide world took her last breath
she was 117
On her birthday last march she said her life felt too short

Where the **** does that leave me

I wish i were born a lobster so id
get stronger and meatier with age
and then when I’m at my prime they’d ****** me up
to sell on the market for a few hundred dollars

When you devour me remember to wear something nice

Little bits of you are scattered around this place.
Here are the steps you rested your thoughts upon while you smoked.
Here are the dust pans and assorted brooms that you once blessed with your touch but now they just hang around and slump to one side.
This is the rug you stumbled upon in a hazy trance time and time again
These are the hallways and the people that led you to me.
And this is the door you'll never walk through again.
I look up and you're still not there.
This is the hell I've made for myself.
The pay is still **** but it's better then being stuck at home with you on my mind.

So you're at this bar in East Atlanta.
Lofty, softy East Atlanta.
Where all the lovely cannibals gather in a mass frenzy
of mendacious liveliness
and pseudo-intellectual conversations.
Everywhere you turn
it's the same gang of
disillusioned catastrophes


Husky Hank has a jaw that can cut through concrete.
He's seated in the stool next to mine,
(A handsome brute in the midst of his quarter-life crisis)
hangs his head at an angle,
And begins to sob hysterically.
Snot and all.
From what I can make out,
some damsel had broken his heart due to his lack of stamina and her lack
of support for his band which he says
"kinda sounds like Radiohead before they went mainstream "
Now he can't imagine going on with ought her.
Says life has lost all it's precious meaning.
I want to tell him:
"with a face like yours I could rule the world"
But I let the Greek god howl
For his mortal mistress

There's considerate Cathy in floral slacks
waving her cigarette about like its contagious.
Says she wants to save the world.
But she can't even save herself.
"In the emerging world of ethnic conflict and civilizational clash, Western belief in the universality of Western culture suffers three problems: it is false; it is immoral; and it is dangerous."
She quotes Huntigton ( yes I've read him too)
It's robotic and was almost certainly pre rehearsed periodically in front of a mirror to evade her stammering sputter prone vernacular.
I want to tell her none of us
are really worth saving.
That in a couple thousands of years;
not a single wretched soul will remember the story of a place onece called earth.
But she's still an option
I want to keep open
So I bite my tounge and smile real big

Insufficient Isaac sold
his first painting last week.
Or was it last year ?  

Sarahs singularity

Conors dancing catharsis

Forgettable Francine neglected to
Flower her Siberian Iris's
At 8 o'clock this morning
Now all she wants is a
Fogy eyed
Two bit stranger
To bang her skull against their headboard until she sees god

Sovereign Sally has yet to
spend a single cent of her moms
pension because it makes
her feel secure

I ask her to buy me a drink

Where am I again ?

I said:
Oh lover from another,
won't you come back to bed?
Put out your cigarette,
And smoke me instead.
While the rain pours.
Behind closed doors.
No one has to know who you call yours.

She said:
Oh boy toy
You have a way with them words.
Like Leo Tolstoy or some other Russian bird.
Won't you write a couple verses
and name it after me?
Because I don't want to die when I'm dead if you know what I mean .

Yes I do,
Sophie

Getting good at
this life game.
Quit running fast
when I realized that we are all headed to the same place.
And there is some
victory in that notion.
Like the victory that swells inside a wave and then bursts in one roaring crescendo.
Casually reducing my body to
foam and sea shells.
While the birds circle overhead.
And someone turns a page in this big book

Still here
Still alive  
still breathing and decaying
and growling and
threatening the sky with words fit for a dog
Still lying to
Still have a reason to
Stay
Still

That mess in the booth next to mine
The one with the perfect smile and
puzzled eyes
Eyes drooping
Hanging like oranges on a tree
And fat bats
Swaying in the darkness
Laughing at an open sky
I'd **** to wake up next to that disaster
To be transfixed by her essence