I don't care about my clothes.
My hairs becoming rat abodes.
I cant even brush my teeth right.
I stink up rooms like I stink up the night.

i even forget to eat right now.

I'm just like an old coffee can
you find rusted in the dust.
Sandy.
Filled to the brim with none.

These spaces in my veins run vile with molasses.

Entire family ripped out by the seams.
The sheet of linens we weaved burnt at both ends like leaves, for candles wick.

All I get left is the floor mats you left.
The walls that have our sweat on them.
You pulled the floor mat out from under my feet.

i dont have the roaches as my friends this time.

The sinks full,
no babies in it anymore.
Just an echo of her washing
the dishes with you.

I'm filling it up with water from my eyes.
While your out and about tonight.
With your ***** of a friend on our anniversary night.

Depressed doesn’t beat rock bottom.
Pressing fast forward doesn’t equal this pause in my life.

You just keep on play. ****** poem.

I just look at your figure,
and I die.
I live in the 1930's when its 1999
Best Beauty of the “Miss YOU *** A”
Laying coupled head to toe with the other train-sets.
Beautiful brown/blonde.
The most beautiful next to the light blue eyes of the tiger on my pc screen.
As I listen to my father figure.
I know you are mine.
Never once pacing nights after today on tile that will not know us.
Never to feel uncomfortable again.
I'll be with you.
5 inches higher than any girl I've ever called the most beautiful.
You win by more than five inches my dear.
I watch you as you sleep and you amaze me.
Utter confusion be-founds my simpleton mind.
I cannot tell if I’m just stupid.
Or if you’re just more intelligent.

Ill Hold Both Your Hands.

First time I didn't want death,

was when I held life by the throat.

Tile floors.
Blood in the creases.
Plywood boards.
Arterial releases
I nail you to the ground,
This soul in you.
Phantom ghost of specter.
I will never leave you.
I will eat what you ****,
And be your skin.
Parasitic symbiote of prosthetics,
Entangled by bailing wire to every bone,
Our union refines combine tarsals.
I am you like the liquor,
Like Jesus' nails.
We rob stores,
Skip stones,
In the alley.
Mirror eyes mark your stretch marks.
Deep scratches of size.
Your iris is mine.
Becoming you is my charge.
In your innards I gorge.
Metastasize.
I want to feast on your skin.
Eat your flesh till your thin.
In the raw.
Exploit all your ****.
I want to haunt your house and lick your thighs when you sleep.
Press through your skin.
Bend it out with my lips.
This last invasion will curse you for life.
I'm a cancer forever.

Hiding in your basement.

Wanna see how empty I can get.
I can leak out all feeling.
No nerves left.

I taste and stiff every person I see.
I cringe crunch the cartilage of every baby I meet.


Heartless and artless old codger.
No posture.

Cramming damming the spam filled sandwich,
of ancient architects.

The tall statue of an empty shell, old malt glass,
unfilled.
Spewed upon the face of mother earth leaving acid mildew.

Shower of rain with a pH of less than 7,
maybe to the negatives, raising havoc on the crop lands.

If my plants would be watered.
I would whole.
I could stand upon the ground lain staked like a scarecrow.

I wish the emptiness protected all that I loved.
I could forever be the watering can providing my molecules with spirits'
Dust.

The aluminum in my body.
Will calcify or solidify (whichever's easiest)
Spontaneously, to create the fluids of osmosifiying mechanical dilution,
Into greater things.

They call it crude.

The dessicated then carboxilated, carbonified,
****** of dead Permian flesh.

This is the reason the salamanders die.
Corporeal concreted, mummified, fossilized.

This is the reason we dance.
Dirges of West Texas dirt romances.
Lost in the flares,
Caught in the gases blaring making nostrils glare.

Requiescat in pace.

All these women.
Dancing through the caliche,
Giving a reason to taste the air.
Through one breath of speechless.

The loam is never settled where boots tread and weather.
Destroying bedrock through hydrolic fracking to the earths core.

I land my toes in the sand of the Llano.
I ******* Mexicans, greasy, with cheese,
With.



Hot.
Sauce.



Dorthy never went to the fest of Oil.
But there's no place like home.
Her silver slippers or prosthesis feet placed instantaneously upon me.
Would bring me directly into a thorny,
Patch of Mesquite.

I.
AM.
A.
*******.

Here's how i roll.
I plop the excrement, directly in the pool.
I **** on chairs,
This is where i place stool.

Plip plob drop loads,
Crenated blood cells and lymphatic drool.
Hurt my kidneys in a fight with truth the other night.
7 brutal, flooring uppercuts to the Latisimus dorsi....

I am > "this girl"
That one that's taken more hits in the face than Tyson.
The one that makes Jenna and Sunni Leone look like pre-school dropouts of ****.

Guys say.
"She"
"got the,"
"best head."

She has nothing in it though.
Her brain's finished by the time words leave her lips whole.
thats as far as it gets
the words pass her **** then she falls, grab her hips.

Prepare the sword for the stone.
The one with the baby whole in her dome.

She's not good, much else.
Her black hair and wisdom lines go bout as deep as her shirt.
Depending on the day.
Pervert.

Lets do ANOTHER line.
"Oh My GOD!" "We did so much *******...."
Coke in cans.
Filled with whiskey flask-hand.

"This night's gunna be one to remember",
if his member is inside, that's my gender,
Blend it with all the worst intentions,
Use the worst intentions.
Stab the heart of conviction.
Tear it to tethers with tension.
Rip the strings of friendship.
Tease the knots of frayed linen,
Like its the only thing ya got.

"I am so high right now."
I forgot what earth looks like.
Probably like my town.

Only place I've been.
I'm 17 ya see.

Its the only thing you got.
You don't deserve roses, flowers, Laurels.
No trees.
No dime bags, no speed, no crying hag.

I can sure **** 25 yearolds.

Saying your better never sounded more like a lie.
Worst thing is you have that prevarication internalized.

I have a god complex...
Wanna save em all...
Can't save a ******* one...

I did lie once...
It was...
When I told you that you weren't...
A *******...

This one time...I was real happy.

All expectation had the correct tact,
had the correct sharpness,
the saturation levels were just so.
but then stuff happens
the stuffs what I'm afraid of.
not the movie reel anymore

I am no longer afraid to dance in light of passing frames on a movie screen,
or look at the actors straight in the eyes,
what happens is, the content, un-contents.

We urinate, we spew, we spackle, we ***, we ****,
we live all of life in two fiking seconds.
Thats alright,
Know one what whats right,
and thats why its right :)

So turn up the music to 50 volume on the sony.
crack a beer,
grind a little,
***** the amalgam of emotion, that is.
Emotion.

Waltz.