I was in a hurry; late for work and having to take a mighty ****.

I rushed into the bathroom, pulled it out,

It came out like a rushing river.

Little drops of yellow rain

fell on the seat

and I wiped it off

Rushed back downstairs,

I kicked the screen door open

the sun was out

the humidity was rising.

I started sweating, and I got into the car speeding off to the freeway.

I was a lion chasing its prey

my prey was getting into work on time.

At college I passed many good looking girls.
They surrounded the place
At night I was always stuck in a room filled with girls
They talk what girls would talk about
well how would I know?
talking about periods and what to do with the pad after worth
flushing condoms
I was with this girl always
and she was with other girls always
The guys seemed to dull or just
not too interested to talk to
I was quiet
and I just left sometimes
to drown in my room
my holy sanctuary
the power always ran out
and I would have to go downstairs
to the head desk person
telling them my power is out
than having to go back up
to my room and wait and wait
and wait and wait until the
janitor came with the keys
to unlock the fuse box
and to put my power back on again

Back into my sanctuary
and music was playing again
I found a joint
smoked it
became free again
the window showed the parking lot
and the people talking
I threw my garbage out the window
and went to bed.

the man has his craziness
And it will always show
at the wrong times
The woman has it locked up
In the soul and it takes time
To unleash
She sat their drinking tea and that’s that
all calm and pure inside and out

I had found and picked up a empty bottle of wine in the school yard

I decided for some reason to smash it against a garbage can
I was an idiot back than
I soon cut my thumb right open

Blood was everywhere
I rushed to the bathroom and
Turned the faucet on
The blood kept pumping out

I went to the office
I started to faint
seeing static

Four hours in the emergency room
they stuck a needle right in the cut
stitched it up tight

In the cab
The man with the harsh accent
Never shuts up
The man who doesn’t care about your life has to give it all at the store counter because his boss is right there and it’ll feel good to try to get that promotion
but the boss’s son gets it anyway
Trying to hard to get things you’ll never get
I’m wearing **** and on the bus
I feel like **** and I don’t want a job
I don’t want anything
I’ll be waiting
Sitting on a bench in the park watching the crazy homeless
Fight each other

I’m working on this story about nothing,
and I know it’ll never get done.
I’m not ready for novels,
I haven’t lived yet.
Living with her 24hrs a day.
You don’t need to starve
to get anything done.
Help is everywhere.
Smile while death is crying above from the eruption of happiness

Hemingway’s shotgun blasted head haunting my dreams

with Nietzsche in the corner blabbing
HIS EYES WIDE OPEN

I could write probably a hundred poems a week about my dreams.

especially when I have nothing to write about

some stupid poem comes along and I write it down

but of course when I think of a good poem

I have nothing to write with

Poetry is too easy and sad to live with

Poetry is nothing

You are nothing

I am nothing

That’s just how the world works.