It's not even a big feat.
Me.
drinking 10 beer.
Of a 30 pack
It's the fact.
.
It's me
Non-apparent.
So sober in contemplation, sooooooo ******* righteous, so destructive, so christian without Christ

This look I addle towards,
This beauty.

Woman.
You should be model.
The correct car for the correct task
Whats your task again>

Txt slam rocket riot.
Parsley beige maudlin clay

comparison persimmon detailed dilutant of non-vexing
what the **** complication

If one day. We are pregnant.
So is You.
So is I.
We are Pregnant.

Proper nouns, like baby tummy bu...t
Different.

You, think You. Have stretch marks.
Heh.

Abort.

Just alive.
.no body in sight.
Just LIVE.
Breathing.
Not living though.
They want maniquins
That dance. Do **** they supposed to do.

This is mom brain.
Pregnancy brain.
They just want babies forever.
Helpless. BOTH.

These are things that mothers feel.
Is this the just cause of goodness to strive?

**** that.

Do you people know.
How much this **** gets real?
Do you know how it makes my heart drop?
Throw-up.
So many Amore chunks.

You ever hung a persons tongue from a wire hanger?
Then let them convulse.
I'm about to do that on my nickel wound stirngs, I'll never stop having a pulse.
I got the only pulse.

Iv'e destroyed every vein in my body with notes of
putrefying chaos beauty.

SCREAM. SHRIEK!

The jazz tones palpitate my tongue,
chatter my teeth,
destruct my *****.
The ones in my feet

Like drugs
only positive
motive based
rather than sordid.

All things are bruises
if you look hard enough
symphony of colorful E's.
positive, negativity.

Skram, ,Dock, Cross, Plot.
Rotatilled rows of pounding chest, human humanity.

The epic of chimpanzee.

Never understanding.
Being alone.
I will never be anyone else
Anonymous
I atone.

i wish i could make all my i's lowercase.

Freeverse, with a dial tone,

Trying to call out to every person by undeniable tension and catharsis
like rigor mortis death ligaments,
such purposeful
pretty

I believe every single woman/man
creating this. This
means more to my spirit.
than being sad.

Gripping dripping smearing love.
Over your eyes!!!
Over your ovaries, where babies, your clutch.

There's no time to nest,
Resist!
Resist
,
be the diode, resistor to heart plunge.
Plug up the sewer.
(more like a catacomb)
My heart's in the ****** cake.
The smell, Cytotoxic invades chemical response conformation.

We; bitten, by fangs of silicon,
the world takes us away from ivy
grown homes,
torn then seamed up jack o' lanterns always smiling orange.

Have you ever grown up from being 11?
It's the saddest thing you've seen.
You see a fledgling,
altricial,
awkward,
gawk/****,
turn from a boy
to a lady.

Plump. Or . Musculate.

Slowly they regenerate their lady parts.
Regardless of gender.

Have you seen them bleed?
Some bleed white tears that burn the urethra.
Some, never grow up.
Transmogrified they call it.
Never to be beautiful again.
Angst entangles, ensues, makes doubt
pubescence is for flowers and hairs.
Namesake.
5th Grade.

Curious formation, curious nature
It's as if we are stalagmites of the future,
We decorate walls or cave ceilings to perform our correct action.
Too bad our self image is always garbled, confused by our refraction.

NEVER GRADUATE COLLEGE.

The sand hides the sun.
Through a fog of particulate silica.
Distorted.
For the first time in my life,
I may look upon that glowing
bearing, for minutes straight.

Innards swallow,
That rock it flings,
Paints on the light.
Now the water vapor hangs,
Amongst its spiny rays,
Creating a mist of cloudy haze.
My eyes must seek to,
Penetrate.
Alas they lose this skirmish fray.
The sun cannot hide its specter.
The doppelganger image always,
Dapper and prim.
Amongst the thoughts in rift entrails of brain,
I think i am my brain. I don't think that when, head cut from body,
Shall my soul reside where my heart was;
Instead I may see, conscious, from where the two parted.
Creating a scar from which to view this hazed sun.
Ever notice,
How the eyes,
Are the only,
Place,
You can,
See from...

I can be an Ammonite with many chambers calcified.
Ghost fossil human head.
A ghost in a shell.
My eyes will carve shapes from the clouds.

Tonight I was *****.
I got persuaded by a ten year old boy,
A boy of 6,
Into doing "things".

His supple boy skin,
Mine suppler not even sun kissed,
yet kissing ****.

Tonight. I'm 24.
I hurt from every pore,
As my breathing shallows.

I tried *******, only a taste.
I ate a pin ***** size morsel.
Throat closed, anaphylaxis.
The praxis of finding out, through rashes of histamine.

Every time I shower.
I played in the mud.
Doesn't wash off.
Guilt.

Oh man, how my grandma used to try.
Scrub me.
I'd scrub just as hard,
Till raw in  my arms.

Every evening.
I lay in bed.
contemplate things.
Look at what has happened.
I see him again.
I cry,
I weep,
I spit,
Oh curses.

Can't change it.
Can't take my mouth off his ****.
You know. The good stuff.

Bein' a kid is hard...
Bein' adult that was once a kid is harder'

You know. They used to put us in prison.

Line us up in rows, make us do LOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG division.

Walk in a straight line. Hold your inmates hand.

I used to work the problems backwards,
The teachers would get mad at me,
Make me work at their desk,
Knew i must be cheating,
Made me teach class,

I never grew up from that.

I used to think that this happy trail led to a ******,
Once closed up.
I thought I was gay.

Now...I just know that.















Well happy trails aren't always happy.
At least mines finally growing hair.

Life got too hard,
and he just gave up
he tipped his ***** bottle
swirled into his cup.

No ice please I hate 34 degrees
hurts my teeth they start to chatter
then I start shaking my knees.

This bars my Christmas
my birthday,
my new years, no ones here
its my bar at my house
I sleep in my sleeping bag full of
beer cotton mouth.

The mice even left.

Without that molecule
I couldn’t snore a wink
the sheep in my dreams are drunk
they stumble fences and pant bleats

They guilt me to sleep
not calm soothe or meek
they taunt me of loss of love
and a family that cant speak

The roaches are gone
they stopped playing cards
I watched them wall glide
and asked them to stay in my floor

Then the roache left too.

It seems cant do much
drunk klutz falling over tables
maybe my liver loves me
maybe that’s stable.

I go shopping for droppings
for things that I need
if I loved myself a bit
maybe I'd do speed.
End it quicker.

The cirrhosis is my friend
he gives me gifts
cramps in the morning
and blood in my ****.

I think if my liver were the garbage man.
He'd bring me good news
but I think liver got mad,
downed the last of the *****.

My liver left too.

Now I'm a maggot bag stinking up the place...No one knows.
Who knows.