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.

Moldy sprocket of time piece.
Stop watching my every crease,
As it folds into my cheeks.
Wisdom grows my crows feet.
Twinkly locket locked in.
Place based on my chest, breast plate,
Sternum pinned beside the window sill.
Watching the sun bathe.
Light.
Bring it to lips.
Hold that picture clutch it, touch it,
Smother with wishes, pictures held of
Long dark hair,
Sprinkle, glitter eyes and twilight of moon, inside,
This prize.
One small 1 inch circumscribed ebb and flow of milky skins.
As you can see in this tin man trinket,
Winks and blinks, under blankets and springs,
Of the bed setting marched upon by dark hair love speech.
To my Juliet, who never sweats, never worries, knows best,
Knows truth, no jealousy, nothing more than a friend.
Living in Austin.
Our paths never crossing,
This entire Texas will always keep her away from me;
But nothing will keep her from me like the grand canyon we've created between each other through pain submitted to.

“Christian. You should leave.”
walks away.
Ran through the hedge row, directly through head bowed,
Crushed it's leaves and vines and twigs, ten thousand mangroves didn't stop my legs.
Rammed my head into a wall with all the force to knock me out.
Collapsed my lungs.
In the middle of the night, sixth street and east.
Hated me for months. Maybe years,
Embalm some dead.

That night, she hit me with an oak board, over 70 times,
My buttocks bruised black and blue hue of the night like broken
Maxillary bone black eyes, the perfect color of sleep.

I Never Flinched A Bit.

I Hope she never reads this poem, I hope my future lover doesn't either.

It will still be just ****.

Listen to that big band swing,
Jippin dat doo dattin, with Bing.
Twirl and dancing that vinyl black.
Feelin' the beat through the thumpin' bass crack.
Movin' digits like dancin. Dames.
Tease out that trumpet's pinching twang.
Her dress twirls through the floor,
She.
Spiraling blackhole, spiraling through time net curvatures wormhole.
My ears crash, jazzy spats, of floppin' bop, on the tendrils of brain,
The ooze in my ears feels drunk from the tune,
Music peers to the table cloths wine stain.
She's the toilet water of my music.


Oh that swing.
Oh!
THAT SWING.
I cant help but love that swing like, child's kiss.
Bringing me soft love in lime blues, cross jazz legs,
Spazzing with cigarette drags, dragging my nails through your chest,
Oh that swing, smears me through your dress.

Love child, those legs,
Beauty those pearly notes,
Prickling whites,
Shark teeth scratching the record,
Or just dust.
Slides________
Slides the tip of the stylus through divots,
In the pavement street of record.
Missive.

Don't turn that table too slow now.
That swing can't stop.
Oh that big band swing.
Beat that rhythm,
Boys...take it from the top.

I'm about to write a poem!
Oh!!!!!!!!
my!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!­!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here it comes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bricks.
Face.
**** in the pool.

I once went to Auschwitz, dove in the shoes.
Saw bunch of mannequins in bomb shelters from the fifties.
the house wives listened to blues.
Saw Vietnam Memorial, passed out, ** Chi Min Got hot in d.c.
Cold War cold cuts were all the news, sewing old men toupees in our weaves.

Walked trenches through Germany in mustard gas rainclouds
Saw, **** between Trotsky and Lenin, before he was a mummy.
Listened to George Bush shake Barrack Obama's hand, we are free now.
Caught world war three on the midnight news tele.

In Shambala Destiny, Chocolate covered rose petals,
From the end of the space shuttles kettle.
Boil over tipping point, all your fighting is over.

The air hangs of hung weird folk.
We can hate everyone, but ourselves.
Each moment in history had some one to hate,
Statist tend to do that to opposing encroaching States.

WE get to own the slaves, the cows of neck tie collars,
Oligarchy of patriarchical, man meat, manipulative, demagogic, isolationist, miscreant, pro-government pseudo-capitalist, state CORPORATION dollars.
Join the army old men. You hold a gun like a limp ****.
You gotta hold mine to my head, Cause money ain't doin' ******'s trick.

I jump from a painting of war veteran spiritualism.
I give no glory to people fighting for my freedom.
I hate violence, no one will ever FIGHT for MY freedom.
I am Freedom.
No state can make me that way.
No gun in my hand will change evil men.
My words must be my gun.
No one will hold my weapon.

Evil is evil, you cannot change its face through plastic surgery, Prozac, religion, or painting any other name on true morals.

Greasy, Smelly, Fat *** ******* pig.
Pink, Loose, Handcuffed to a ****.
Cops, Jail, ****** in the front seat.
Cut, Arms, Blood on the face of humanity.

I. Ain't. No. Square!

I am crustier than you.
I sleep in **** and emaciated jews.
I am more punk than you.
I beat my girlfriend when I'm supposed to.
I am more skin than him.
I shave my head exactly one fourth inch.
I am a hip ****.
I *** on **** and **** on *****.

All these pigeon holes and
Too many ******* birds.
This ******* a snake.
I eat and intake all false personalities that this bird-stench **** leads me to.

They all shall smelt together
And make one final ****.
An **** of fake guts.

Society is an amalgam of all the worst species of flighted reptile
Squawking to be decapitated.
I wish originality
Had died while I was alive,
So I could vacuum all the breath,
From the mannequins to it's flesh.

I. Aint. No. Square!

Just stick it in
Pull it out
*******
Gag her mouth.

Bound and fist it,
Cut zip-tied wrist then,
Bathe her in warm blood bathwater.
Watch her bleed out as an oozing cow mother.

This is how we do it.
This is how we **** ****.

Boiled **** and ***** nitrates,
Bonging buttchug, grease infesting.

This is how we ****.
This our mental state.

Disgusting epoch,
The party *** phenomenon.
Drunk girls, drugged *******.
Pearl necklace confection, gourmands,
in stitches

Plagued with itches,
Stemming from ****** abuse.

This is why I ****.
This is how I crutch.

******* on the inside.
******* on the inside.
******* on the inside.

Chyme, Dirt, Mucus, Scab, ****, Grime, Ostomy, Bag.

These are the things i believe in.
This is my ******* Religion.

If you don't like it get out of my alley,
I am eating flies,
and cutting myself.

*******.
Cop Death.

Let Christ give his final sacrament to us through the holy Eucharist of his jizzum.
He shall raise the skirts of all boys and decimate the trousers of all who fear him.
I was a kid once and i know this.
Don't worry he ***** me too.
Feels good if you know him in the flesh in fruity underwear tighty see throughs.

Death plague.
He brings to us.
Through the work of his *****,
Whacking off each head to ***.

Come one come all,
to the shitshow circus called religion,
**** morals owned by slavery and god,
All fallacy is see through like his ******* nightgown

God is the **** of *******,
Get a ******* from your violence absolvance.
**** one another destroy.
Empathy is for *******.

God is dead.
Shot with led, fed to the Nazis, in their death holes for the unclean,
God is a ***.
The **** of earth isn’t me or you
It's the constructs of dogma,
That they abused us with as children.

Come on now we all aren’t bad guys.
It's the ***** in power.

****, ****,
Follow, follow,
into a pit like the communist.

I had *** with Stalin and created democracy.
Chairmen Mao is necrophagist.
****** was was the savior of the Semites.
The Popes are the largest mass murderers in history.

Feeling crazier each day.
Schitzoid, Bulimic, anorexic of thinking.
Theories of being an egoist calm my nerves,
But a breakdown is sure to occur.

I am the hero, i own my own brain.
You can jail me. You can stone me, but I'll always be free.

I am not guilty you fat lard ****.
cut off your man ****.

We work
Toil dirt.
Corpse through life.
We don't exist.
Traipsing through grave yards,
Dead eyes look through the dark.

Sewer trash,
Thrash compact,
The homeless starve,
My empathy lapses.
Motionless,
Starving,
Dead in the beat.
The blue cops the trash piler,
Creating the skids.
The bodies line the streets,
Carcass figurines,
With no names,
No home,
No privileges.

******* *******.

***** to the percussion of sound.
The harshness devastates all the people around,
That’s what our embodiment occurrences bring.

Violence seduces,
Into the predilection of wounding,
the populace **** your ******* faith.
Be a ******* human!
I am!

We all learn,
Some faster than others,
To belong to,
Like minds.

I tiptoe through the agoraphobic xenophobe,
That is the amoeba of darkness,
That soul eats you called government and falsity.
All things you see are redundancies.

Beams shoot, pierce, being.
Cross light, torch, hydrogen star seams.
The universe fabric'd slightly, by photon lattices,
Making salad, for ingestion purposes, of lettuces
Energy. Chlorophyll. Gathering.
Spectral blue/red (465 nm/665 nm) Smattering.
Frankenstein piece of art worn leather.
Earth is stitched lava, magma sewn together.

Forming the lawn face of all reality.

Reality is suburbia to the string.

I'm just getting in the bath,
Someone else wrote the letter,
I don't want to make a. Mess.

Draw me the water
I point at the tap
Burden no family
Hold my head under icecaps.

Merkel Cells, diluted sensation,
The end of fingertips cant feel your
Flesh.
Shriveling in the cold,
Shivering to stop freezing,
But I cant. What am I doing?
Can I want this now, errectores pilorum erected.
Have I set motion to,
Cogs in a watch I cant adjust.

my lungs mark absolute zero
this is me sitting in chemistry class
english
10th grade
asking sam to suffocate with me
every alvioli is pinned by ****** as thick as knitting needles
my chest is permafrost
my sternum, antarctica
the ribs hollow out
capillary beds lose all the haem
out of their erythrocytes

I'm losing St. Elmo's Fire.

The baths still panting out,
Water roars, gushing spout.
Proud the current sweeps me through,
The porcelain lining this white hell bathroom.
It's bone cannot hide from my blood,
As if I'm isotope 226 of Radium.
Heat seeking marrow.
My serum is Hodgkins Lymphoma,
Tearing through sheeting tile,
Like a young cancer child,
Afflicted,
Leukemia,
No chance,
No good blood left,
To let.


Soon, it will all be gone, and the rivers that
freeze in my arms, and the ribs that are icicles
form, and the atrial canal is not like Venice,
it is the Rhine in winter, the Volga during
the solstice.

Spring will never come again.
Spring slipped its head into the bath water, like my own.

Gardening.
4.
Years old.
Gardening.
24.
Years old.
20.
Year Annuity.

Oh dove,
How your nerves tug.
As you pick and *****.

Dove how you symbolize love.
How your neck is ringed, split.

Dove like two halves, are separate.
Head. Heart. Mind.

Dove. They are not as you wish.
The two forever entangle sinew.
Intertwine.

Wanted to get drunk today.
WANTED TO WRITE TEN POEMS.
None of this happened, but the postman brought letters.
I opened them.

Skin felt absent on the occipital lobe.
Where amber, silica, sconce, crackle, glass exploded.
Lifted pillow 'bove my head.
Gravity took its power. Hold, sand shard dust and vase piece,
in my bed.

Wanted to sit in the park.
WANTED TO MAKE TEN ******* POEMS.
Needed a six foot tall model by my side,
in the windy park in the sunlight.

Children needed to dance around.
Wanted to see them puke up happiness.

On swingsets/marygorounds.

Wanted to be their fathers.
WANTED TO BEAT UP THEIR FATHERS POEMS.
Wanted to the cops to catch me.
Slaughter pigs, drink their blood.

Wanted lost in wanting.
WANTED TO BE BETWEEN HER LONG SOOTHING POEMS.
Wanted to clutch pretty.
Needed something like love...

or like drunk.

Needed to buy a forty today.
NEEDED TO COUGH UP WORD THROAT.
80 will do. If you have the proof
This didn’t happen. Instead,

I
Sat
Inside
And
Choked
On
My
Own
Enunciated
Emaciated
Words.

The poems never come out right anyways.

Some of the
Most important
Words I've read
Have been on very
Small
Sheets
Of paper

The greatest
Joys
I've felt
From
Tiny
Humans

The vast Brings most pain
Atom bombs
Titanic sinkings
Power plants meltdown
War
Armies
Large stupid men
Killing






Of No Consequence.

My world changed.
Now. I. am.
Dis- inherit.

More like the unwanted
guest,
in
a party for yourself.

That un wanted
is always
you.

Banners can say your name.
One thousand times.
Screaming.

Out of skyscrapers, bungee jumping
from space shuttles.

Saltating, from your inner
lung meat.
Banners, with names, can only spittle lies.

Now unwanted I wanna leave,
get out,
only 3 more miserly months
of a kingdom of intellectual
gods and tzars.
screaming my party name,
but I.
I.
gone.


I am sitting
While I'm grieving
and admitting in my seat
clenching to be let out
breaking cracking/gnashing teeth
left alone. all wanted
left to brain rot
but forced to sponge
learning what i want in
learning my ashcans full
i am done
I will. remain. despondent.
I wont apply my neurons
motor-sensory illusion
for math demagogues
what the ****
crust me over
cut my brain-case
destroy all brain
function and matter
grey dissolve to black
and white every *******
shade inside
cephalic
meat bowel

Lifeboats float back up to the top, after
re-inflated, I breathe air once again. My
retinas detect the light coming from
packets of waves emitting from the shore.
I float back up from the cold sea to the rock.
Alive.

Color blind in a paint storm.
The beauty of the world
is a mystery hue.
False
Breaths of
Honesty.
I only see in greys and blues.

Press your eyes against
the spectrum.
It will only help to confuse your mind.
Try as hard,
as you will son.
Never again will the sun light your sky.

Walking up to a
street light.
They've all got problems of their own.
No
one
watches.
As i cross those white lines.
Now my souls on Charon's boat.

The world's all a stage, that I cannot see.
I hear things I Smell things and I even bleed.
Problems become me, my skin's now rusting.
A robot, a lost ship, a chains broken link.

We all got a couple chips in our shoulders,
some people carry smaller weights, some carry boulders.
But either way, we are all the same, our names are not different.
Yet we change and what for.
It's so mundane.

Because dancing ain't dancing till you lose your feet,
and colors aren't fading till you can't see straight.
We all take for granted the world and it's credits,
the picture ends, the sun sets, and none of it mattered.

A painting ain't painted till a bucks in it's place,
a song ain't a song till it's radio played.
The fact of the matter is life is a train,
that we all must get on but most of us don't take.

I'm lucid now white as ghost.
All for what now.
A disaster has happened.
I can see sundowns.
Forever I'm fading.
Somethings gone wrong.
These fields now of colors are all,
mine,
to touch.

I'm going to build regret like the east Berlin wall.

I'm gonna keep each side apart like the solstice does to fall.

I ******* hate wanting to be like you.

I hate that no one's like me
but they lie and say they wanna be too,
Or they say they admire me.
And stab me in my meat.

I want the moon to hold promise
Cause the sun dries me out

I wish it to bleach my skin till i cant walk out in sunlight.


I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for.
My hearts built for America.
It's not for art. Its for apathy.
When i have a chance to make it different i destroy everything.
I am the killer of families.
I hurt myself emotionally to death.
And the world would be better off without me.
I've ****** everything.
every way you acted towards me ****** it as well.

Sorry:
I'm sorry i let you down.
Sorry I’m a *****.
Sorry that i cant take it.
I'm just a ****.

And i control everything that happens to me.
I can only act and that should be all that matters.

I want the world to end sometimes.
Cause i just make it worse everyday.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as bad as I do now.
I think that you sounded like the most destroyed person I’ve affected.
And none of that was my intention.
I don't have a mean bone in my body.
But i have a selfish one.
And one that apparently doesn’t think.
Bones that split promises into compound fractures.


I'm just so sorry.
You're better than this.
I don't know why I’m not better than what i did.
I am the bad guy.
I am the guy who will finish last,
make everyone hate him,
Then **** himself.

I cant take it back

Writing from calm
placidity.
Calm, blankness, stark.

Perpetuate it
maintain,
always want this

this is a good outlet
by the leaves
serene,
calm is not boring
it is the opposite.
It burns with promise,
lights
dark buildings
at pitch black;
calm is a torch in
castle walls.

Staple,
Stand still.

Carry calm
in pockets,
closer to skin than
wallets or watches.

Watch the calm
and let it still
this is beauty
this
is, fire,

still.

A perfect synapse to this ecology.
To this drone.
To this end game night.
When all tranquil hits at the same quantum.
This time piece of us is forever as we sit above skyline in the ether.
Clouds hold us like tombstones, in their clutch as earth.
I expose you to my inner bastion of thought and you accept. You agree to love.
The environments perfect for the crispness of night.
The crisp clarity of the night and shadow.
On this grave dug dirt, we set higher than any scraper of sky.
We are at the belly of the beast ready, to disembowel the tyrant.
We no longer are two but in sync and hold all power, beauty, and aesthetic measure.
The tide eats us into its stomach, where we protect fortune.
In the end it's that one person.
That one keepsake when we die.
Our last thought besides ourselves in our heart and mind.
Our final passion.
Now tell me that’s not dying together.

I need to go to the grave yard,
need to dig some dirt.
Make a nest for sleep.
Let the dirt infuse into me.

Infuse with me and the dead.
I want crosses on my forehead.
My forehead mounded upon with dust,
the soil of all this West Texas, impacted upon my chest,
and the sticks of skeletons shall ***** my flesh.
Make me parts of them.
Splinters, perfect spacing, spectral spines.
Barrow injecting me with creativity.

We all come from the particles left of,
by the demise of life.
We are leftovers of after thoughts,
left in attics, filled with soot in peoples minds.

Then I can make art.
Then I can cut out snow,
to shapes of stars.

Tin man in the ground, grows rust as he settles into moist dirt.
He wont grow any more like a plant.
But as sugar in the ground he rust and melts,
oxidates into nothing, then transmuting into,
crystals.
This is cemetery life.

I need to go to the grave yard.
So I can make a home.
Build me a little mistress,
make a family in her bones.

The cottage that we build there,
will have ivy, we'll have friends,
the gates of it will say welcome sir,
madam death waits to have you in.

Drinking milk thistle tea,
dancing waltzes in the fog light.
Diffusing in the spectral photons,
bowing down to afterlife.

Kissing the lips of the grave yard.
Opens the doors, hands extend.
I need to go to the grave yard.
So I can find a place, I fit in.

I'm caught in the meandering confines of the webs that hold all my words
like the tortures. that sinew creates
like the voices that spiders death makes

like a discrete collected. symposium in the Greek corridor
beyond everything. these thoughts. are a zoo of confines
every species is a destruction
we all slowly **** the once perfect thought of ourselves
because every single time we listen to another's thoughts
we give up our own ectoplasm
we make a country of ghost
a set. defined layer, film of loss
then
we try and share it.
on top of that
on top of decadence
on top of world skyscrapers that create new heights, new shoulders of the sky that our humanist shall strive towards
i just want my ghost to mean something
i want my light to overshade the shadow
i want there to be a supernova in my eyes
i want for you to take that power. make a reactor.

to be compressed beyond all thought to nothing
singularity
by guilt that pursues all preferences and destroys.
decimates you
when you wake up from the dream
the dawn comes
and you deem
all things as problems
Cause things you try for are destroyed
things you love are void
all passions are forgotten

and nothing
but: pain, torture, derelict,
are left.
a consuming hold strangles you to complete restriction of vein
all weather is told to stop
all your brain begins no calculations
standstill of formal
sis decease

the quandary of feeling just. so much pain
just so much problem
just so much manipulation of self telling you that you will be ok and knowing.

it is a lie

just like the things you've always felt
the things you've always been through
car washes that laser you to nothing
to nothing of worth like dirt. yet lower. demoted
promoted from **** and compiled to none
divided enjoyed and summed to the sum
of nematodic prevalence that ***** with your modesty
we must ****** this feeling of warmth
for if we don't take all the heat then the cold will never come
and we will be like them.

Passed out drunk
couldn’t cope
watched stars
in my eyelids
naked
dry
in humid
air
couldn’t carry it
needed something
3:41 AM
I woke
couldn’t cope
naked
drier
colder
couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t read
rolled and rolled
after eyes read
what they
never
wanted to see
pain commences
lurching commences
again.
Nothing said
makes it better
nothing done
time needed
well this
is bad timing

His soul has not ascended to heaven,
Hes just gone,
Nothing better.

His body will decay like a snail,
And all like that slime,
He'll leave a trail.

Its not even that sad, when you do it yourself.
Punk thrives off that idea, like Buddhist immolation.
Death ends wars.
And if they could they’d war in hell.
If they could.
If something was left.
They'd battle past death.

Luckily we are just animals and no eternal energy exist beyond our breath leaking to the atmosphere.

Thank nothing that the carbon wont carry our spirit.
If it did.
It would **** all hope and I would be forced to be a scar on the earth.

For I am made of Ghandi, ******, Churchill, and Stalin.

We are all part of an earth we revolve on,
Yet some refuse to take action on truth or refuse to learn it in the first place.

In most cases.
We should all end it.
And destroy the deadlights this inanimate "soul" creates.

Climb climb
addiction
calling my name
to the sunset
higher higher
altitude
sickness
calling my name
to horizon
further further
endurance
asking my
body
to the clouds
the stars
death, death
a drink, a pill,
pleasure
addiction
is calling my name
in place of an
empty blank
space
where
our eyes
met

You ******* *****!!!!!!!
You ******* gape worm of a *****.
I know your mouth. I know your taste,
you can't drown it out with your speech.
You ******* **** ****.
You’re a ******* ****.
You **** my exaltation with just your gait.

I have more passion in one breath.
I have more heat in one heart beat.
I have more mind in one ******* neuron,
and I have more pain in one decisive step.

**** HUMANS THAT THINK THEY ARE.
"REAL WOMEN"!!!!!!!!

After this is over.
I fill a ravine with blood
with my blood
I cry and wane all my pleasure
out into the sand.
I am the bank of my own painting.
The river of a sad and destroyed human.
It shoelaces the geology of human collectivism.
this is the evil between humans,
love between two.
It divides us,
into separate universes.

I carve your name into space.
On my thigh.
I make space.

Today.
Read like the last poem ever written by
ginsberg.
It read.
Nostalgia.
Of a lost love for life.
It read.
Critical as the final dying etchings that he made into that paper.
The final breaths of words given that morning,
made me cry the first time
I read them.
this time.
The words smelled
of
malls
,
girl juice.

There's a baby in his belly.
There is hemorrhage in his tone.
There are one million paired eyes scanning
bedsores in his last poem.

He took everything to the end of his life with him.
No one packed his suitcase.
He simply jumped out of his frail
body.

He probably managed last words with
something
prophetic.

****
and
Endless.
*****.

Sleeping in throws,
Wrestling in pillows.
This baby is convulsing,
Stuck homeless in cotton rows.

She jiggles tickles,
Crisp, she is fickle.
She tingles the conniption.
Nerves, in axon missiles.

Binky slips, the eyelid's 'clipse,
Her wrist is the pith,
Of nights caption "Mist".

Sleeping babies.
Calm nights hard winds,
As the spring commences,
Graduation of twigs,
To sprigs of life,
To growing thighs,
Cough up the milieu.

Minutia.

The growing immortality.

I've said too much, I've lost my head, I've given up
I have nothing left.

The parchment paper rips down your throat.
As you tear your voice down every note,
The word “ihateyou”
**** every song.
A chill in the ear is a bell tones throng.

Believe that somethings wrong, cuz it ******* is! Believe that you're in love, cuz you're a ******* kid!

You cannot hold onto,
Stuffed blankets and pillows,
Live by a matchbook,
Head next to the gallows,
The heat from a sun has now died with the billows.
No air or ox-y-gen is capable resuscitation,
To stoke up this flame from dead coals in this bastion,
Each illusion is frozen by the heat ******* electron.
Division/deviation from a path that I abandon.
The futile, failure, falling to the knees view of a god that I do not cling to.

This songs about existence,
The pain in a distance,
Reminiscent,
Of a horizon,
Built on grandeur and heart omissions.
****** by a necropolis,
Of soul stealing black hole mouths.
Forgotten by its maker,
When the heartless chopped him to the ground,
Fraught with false oaths.

Suburbia disintegrates to ash and leaking gouache.

Bleed out.
Bleed out.
Bleed out.

I long for a means coalesce like particulates in suspension and not coagulate.
Into a monstrous scab.
I hate to make cheloid tissue of this deadly grouping.
Id **** to be whole by finding a pairing.

The obstruction to human progression,
The roadblock of progress,
We are merely all platelets in this wound.
These free thinkers are the only.
Thing. Holding in all of the blood of the truth in man's march.
The moon was the beginning the end is the sun.
To a fusion of the atom,
And the birth of our flux.
To the birth of our achievement,
When we let loose the wound.
When the inside has healed and we aren’t bandaging the fumes,
Of a gaseous existence to penetrate everyone’s lungs,
With the stillness of thinking and the spirit of calm.

Currently.
We wait in the basement.
Sitting for our,
Plan.
To strike.

We will strike the match that flames the fumes of human resistance and build a castle of knowledge, hope, science, and destroy the sinkholes for progress.
The things that deplete our resources,
And the fire in our eyes will stab into every bastilles walls.
Of evil.

I need to **** my own brains out.
**** the inside of my thigh
/
If self harm existed,
I'd be the definition. Even as a child.
Epitome.
I was the art of chaos.
Reviled taste in the mouth of structure of humanity.
In the eyes of hurricanes,
death emits it's life from my heart chasm,
a dark laceration that continually deprecates the vision of self and image.

When one revokes such practices,
when one covers such motive to make others happy,
destruction of the dreamer will ensue.
Beyond all of the folly in these steps
We continue this dance macabre in order to destroy the civilized that we see in and around us.
Please take this.
Please ingest it into your ears, and masticate it in the gears teeth of your brain.
Hold heart to hand.
Take a breath.
Hold atrial canals to the rib cage that holds it as a cell that completes your bodice.
If you must seek a destruction. Let it be for self intention.
For self seclusion.
Let it be for your own self imprisonment.
Not the caging of your existence by: a state,
a religion,
a county,
a dogma of any sort,
no to ecology,
no to misanthropy.


"Yay", ye shall say. To self worth.

I needa write another poem tonight.
Here it goes.


I'm drunk in my veins.
My stomachs in pain.
My poems alone.
My body’s a tomb.
For every beer i drink.
Trying to count sleep.
Minutes at a time.
**** this poems rhyme.

End it here.

**** me.
Carbon molecules are a ****** up species of atomic number mass, that should not critical in this place called "Baton Rouge", either its rough type and ****-***-mild-temper, need them, hate me, near the river so that i can end my ******* life, with a last drink tipped, into my gizzard.

All the frats are belong to us

Tonight was a good night could I only remember.

**** Bukowski.
I'll **** his ****.

This is all he writes about.

Suspended by eyelets, over delicate violets,
in the coat closet above my grave.
The marionette, of skeletons wrist,
layer together like clothes neatly hanging.
We divide up our lives, into green, pinks, and whites,
like my sixth grade best friends wardrobe hung.
But the guilt below our silk, displace dirt as earth spills,
keeps us nailed to pineboxes we dug.

Skeletons in our closet
While the parade of tendons follow bones.

Muscles drag our bodies, while our loved ones place our grave stones

The doors shut but we are digging
Our way out of this dirt

Clenching our ribs our femurs out hips
This basement emotions mirth

Collapse, dig down below the cave bottom trove
Of eyelids hung open starring at our motion while we try to gather our home

We put together skin to make us look better we staple our eyes opened up
Tie our veins back in to our circulation, inervate our brains to our thumbs

Piecing together after death has weathered our body's to frail specks of ****
The vultures can eat us but put back the pieces scab ourselves back together with dust

I write poetry like a fourteen year old girl.
I AM A 24 YEAR OLD TEENAGE GIRL.
I write poetry like a fourteen year old girl.

i'll never grow up.

The girls, the dames,
every petty thing.
The skirt, dress,
every pretty scene.

The way they tap toes
at the throws on the floor.
How bobbing their head
plucks doubt into the rhythm,
they miss the point,
but their clothing dons precision.

I'm up on stage.
They watch me from below.
Like the kneed posture pleated jeans,
patella to the floorboards.

“I saw your show.”
“No you didn't.”
But people saw you staring blankly
past.
hands me a drum stick.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“I'll do you one better.”
I stick the drumstick 6 inches in my ***.

“You sounded great...”
“No I looked like I was fake”
I acted, I stressed, I posed,
and I played.

“Lets have ***”
I say “No.”
It was just a show.
The act is done now the curtains
boast.
I don't bow.
I walk on out.
Through every living zombie
permanently in the crowd.

Put your ******* back on.
You will never mean anything to any of those stupid ******* girls.
Instead they will put your nudes on the internet and ruin your life.
You will think you did something great.

You were used.

They built up walls to make a house,
Made doors and locks to keep me out,
My folks make tapes to show me how,
To overshade a son and make him feel drowned.

In his own “home”.

We all feel those moments,
No one hears us scream.
Sometimes we earned it,
Some times we can't breathe.

But in the end we die.
We heave and lurch out our last breath.
Our soul never leaves our body.
Ataxic heart beats, then death.

Aesthetics a fake word.
Nothings pretty at all.
I drink my beer and i sleep sad,
My liver cries from the alcohol.

I know things now that I didn't know young
Like loves a fake prophecy we take **** like a drug.
No one makes you happy and all that it leaves,
Is another empty promise that you try to achieve.

We all fall down.

I hold your hand,
Hold your head up above the toilet.
Then you **** another dudes ****

Hold your hand, hold your heart in my chest,
Then you **** another dudes ****.

This is love.
Can't you feel it, can't you taste it, can't you smell it,
In her mouth where he went.

Oh this is love :)

Beer is my bottle of sleep,
and I drink enough sleep to forget,
that I'm all alone
I don't have a home,
and my soul will just die when im dead.

Just another scared boy waiting in his casket
or acting a part
its either action or nothing
the mind is divorced

bodies are useless
why accumulate them
in a sack of skin, the cage created
by a skull cap glass brains are wrapped in

transparent and thin
a sleep sheet sewn
by rapid eye movement

encased in bones
the alcohol is sediment settling in the bottom bodies brave colony, of other owners that forage for a loners last remnants of his ostomy.
cavity.
Bags of excretion excrete his thoughts, like lead does to mass graves of forties gulags.

Hes lost all compassion, extinguished all hope, hopes a disease the defectors misquote, cause cadavers decay, minds atrophy as muscle, senescence affects all and with age we buckle, the pressures too great, mans heart is too weak, the blood is no longer pumped to his feet, as he falls to his knees, the earth says “we are one”, as the worms eat the flesh of the casket they've dug.

Its not the point of killing faith that u will find someone.
Its the action of loneliness and controlling your bonds
Its empty alone and so is pretending to love
You cant make connections not like addiction to drugs.
Save the drug of infatuation.
No reason just meaning less
No selection. Just what drips in your lap
No focus just lenses that crack

The sextant marking starlines that guide your path
is no longer Coordinated calibrated to designate a map

Walk amble climb along to view a moral prefix
to design a way out of a sea just arms length
with the depth of the roots of mesquite trees in the spring

We are all stowaways in a ship waiting to jump to shore.
Trying to find a place to spill seeds in the tilled rows of a *****.
The words you whisper are pretty and my minds enthused
tho i know every go at this game i shall lose
Im wandering in a labyrinth
Chasing in a brain
like a rat in a spinning wheel following reflections from a cage

You tricked me. Oh yes. You win
Im no longer a man like all women before you ate the innards left a shell
spit out the hull
Dragged my meat to the floor

One final kiss and i leave, i am missed
You say lies again
i pull off your fist
its on my head
its in my throat
i read words that you spoke
its not my fault
its the blood clot
keeping us unconnected in this note

I am dreaming
secret beaming
red lights blinking
help is sinking
No hope between two
softly stroking
my cross is burning
No fires stoking
On my fore arms
on my chest guard
all is sinking with the funeral
All the voices in my head
are telling me it should be dead
yet the ***** in my soul
tells me that he still pleas for bread
But i starve him
and i lash him
and i strap him to this ledge
for he is wrong
and yes he lies
you're the harpy of my dread


You ******* killed me like i was a lame horse to be put down

I see the same sand all over again.
This beaches grains just fall through my hands.
I live the same **** moments and days.
Every hour passes then is replayed.

My grandpa died 7 times this week.
The same **** car runs over my dog in the street.
I cant stop crying.
Cant catch a break

Every night i anxiously asphyxiate.

Times not my friend this hospitals not my kin.
My life’s a framed moment caught in the canvas

My girlfriend being ***** in my mind, over and over that night plays in the ghost of her eyes.
she couldn’t take it all anymore
but there’s no reverse
i don’t think her a ***** nothing fixes what she feels.
the reel stops spinning as she hand shovels those pills.
i found her body in dirt angel pattern on the edge of the land
and i sat there.
i cried to death while i wept in her hands.
a life repeating is a life for the ******.

I trache myself to scream out blood,
To make sure you felt what i said and understood,
Cut open my throat so you can see my voice,
Through cords that shake your core,
Wanting vibration avoidance.

Desiccated hands try to grab your hair and break it,
Like brittle crystals of sucrose.
Each molecule overcame with freezing
From the spatial distance in each look

No matter how hard i try and comfort your heart
Malady wins.
It corrodes your engine and your metabolism begins to fade.

You're frozen in dying
For the rest of time
And I can do nothing to change it.
Its the roots in your heart that i just cant **** out
Heart worms in a dying dog.
Heaving each breath
This is the end of fondness
This is suicide of emotion
Killing echoes of every beautiful girl you gave a **** about.


My voice cant get through the air to you

My blood cant paint on your face

My hands fall apart before they caress and love just withers away like a dead, once verdant chrysanthemum.

I saw a falling star this morning.
It fell straight through the hole you're carving in my heart.
Right between Orion and Cariopea.
It looked just like you in the dawn.
It destroyed my face with a frown.
It killed a hope i had when i drowned in your bath water.
When my purpose gets lost in the bubbles.
Id help you all i could, could i help you at all.
Supporting your ribs like a diaphragm.
I can be the buttress to your breath.
Could, could i only help.
Bindings on a broken ankle to mend you to stand.
Splint a broken heart with a heat trail left by that meteor that is burning through.
The heats absence would take away my life.
The burn from pain would flatline me and i would not know life nor death.
Remain in an infinite torpor.
Stasis to mind and feeling.

I lay in a drunk stupor sober.
I writhe in a motionless pain.
I die in a spring of health.
And i Own in a body i don't claim.