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.

***** 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.

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.

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.

All I can do is stare at void.
And goad it into movement.
Asking it to soothe me.

Darkness, Blackness.
As I breathe in.
As I breathe out.

Only way I sleep, is to tuck myself calm in the dark matter.
Not that. Absence of anything,
Nothing,
But the concept of “all” stuffed into one corked universe.
To be shaken.
To bubble me into a dream.

Hiding behind rocks once I get there.
Hiding behind nothing inside of my own eyelids;
This has been happening since I was five.
Shivering, quivering, shaking, in a pit of *****,
eyelid color.
False chromatics.

I think it won't get any better.
I've always felt powerless.
Night makes me scared.

I stay awake.

I fake joy.
I pretend intelligence.
I'm a scared ventriloquist doll hoping no one puts their hand up my ***.
Not to Act.

Tossing and turning the ragdoll of my body,
My soul contorts to the visage of women.
Nuns with blood for eyes,
Entire memories dying.

If stars were real, they'd light my visions.
The back canvas of skin that projects my minds lens,
Lends to my own coward binge,
In my mind I'm a crippled victim of sleep and taunting of every hurtful human haunting that there is.

They all laugh at me.

Back drop and back bone of this canvas has cracked. The Painting Failed.
Spine of every book written about my memories, has been crumbled. Never Published.
In a corner, in every room there's one of me. Ghost Blocked Limbs.
A Hagfish who writhes in the dead body of his own spirit. *******.

The Lowest of Existence.

Legs rusting in cement
re-barb poles of anchoring
but no foundation suffice
for the feelings of neglect in childhood
the bricks arise
the mortars set
but in a misshapen pattern of mangled misanthropy
and charred remains of humanity

a family is for one thing,
comfort in an odd place.
holding to conformity,
telling you who you are, when you are not.

when it all goes awry, the suns still in your eyes,
eyelashes cant curl enough to make you pretty in asides,
poems monologues that you speak don’t take time to preach,
pain and hiding that you try to flee from during human touch or human speech.

I cannot handle myself much less others.

I cannot speak with anyone so I have to speak with you.
Or I have to hold back a heart mired in loving glue.
horses died to allow me to roam, trees die still to make my home.
I still cant fashion pictures true of a family of five with six that are real
alive alive
I jig and strive to dance away my hate for life
it waltz's its way upon my ears and kills my familiarity fear
I want life in its sake
I want death timely
we all want things that just feel right,
feel just fair.
I want Disney land to not hurt when I get to the entrance
because it all turns out right
suburbia is not a Moasist country frilled with soulless black eyes
no sparkles.
all the glitter is very much silver and also the gold of the joys of souls

the way I feel is that if these wrought iron fencing’s could help to divide me any more
I could be one with them. Solitary atom.
They could be my home. They could coincide with differential turnings in my brain and eventually destruct me into molecules that would inherently be of their own. Be singular

but in the current state of matters.
I must depend upon all matter to be the one thing that holds me together

what life is this?

this makes me brittle
makes me short
controls me into any contortion that is to them beautiful
for now
I must be beautiful.
**** that.
To contort and retort, when we only wish to wobble and pulse with Brownian motion. My own happiness should not derive from people; I wish to not be near nor around in any small sequence,
they are merely dead to me.
Non-animate.
this is the platonic family we create.
This is life that we see from dead, dank, and sorrowful eyes.
Pity.
Forced.
Relations.
Consummate. Indelibly.
You people should be ashamed of yourselves for forcing love. By any means.

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!

The golem quakes from the grounds tremble.
The mountain howls with the wolf.
Everything that was supposed to hold mystique,
has been corrupted by proof.
A god that cant eat.
A people that cant lift their own arms,
in arms that hold each other.
Now the thought mistraced faith reforms,
deformity causes alarm in the masses because difference hits too hard.
Control mind, control body, control philia, measure all your calculations always magnanimous dose. Part.
Relinquish. Relinquish!!
Give all sanctity and hope to the state,
they will focus your hate,
through a photoelectric device.
Let them mold you into natures and **** sapien sentient plight.
Allow your shape to be devoid of integrity.
Be all you can be.
Join anything that ends with an A. Starts with an US.
If you ever take off your mask and see the cave for what it is,
we will **** you.
Plato is the design for our torture system.
When some one says. "be born",
concede and reply with "nevermore".
End life in the womb.
You will live the rest of the days light, in darkness.

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.
*****.

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.

I hold the passion in my heart of a million brimstone suns.
The sadness in my gait of the death of ten thousand dearest loved ones.

I cant eat, I cant breathe, my voice warps when i speak.
My breaths are shallow like hospice lungs, wishing for cemetery gates.

The look in our eyes of an infinity of reflections, glinting in the sun, coupling the teeth in the gears of our irises.
These few hour dances are a romances suicide.
Each goodbye cleaves a piece of my heart, it convulses.

The cells in my stomach rot without your glare.
The muscles grow weak and atrophy without the want to continue living not breathing your air.

No temporal thing can be enough.
No trinket can replace your presence.
No matter how hard I hold it.
It's not your fingers. Its not your nails.

If our hands could touch,
life would end for everyone from a river of blood that would pour from my finger tips where i chew to let my love out.

If my heart was exhumed I wish you keep it with you.
If my body rest inside a tomb, i wish you lay this vessel in your womb.

The sands of the ground will wither to dust. Earth will be swallowed whole by the sun. My body shall be piecemealed to various molecules in the universe. But our time my love. Our information. Our imprint. Will be an everlasting curse.

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.

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.

I wanna live in the ******* movies,
I wanna cry every time I get kissed,
The tears will taste such of salt on the breeze of the sea,
And nothing will lose it's saturation or contrast with time or wear.
As promised.

And one day I'll get married, and I will be her prince,
And small snow angels will grace a cake,
With identical caricatures of our likeness.
No lackluster no filler.
No omission or revision of courage,

My life's the movies and I never lose.
I'm a hopeless romantic and i get right every word use.
I always know what to say and nothings to chance.


My life's stuck in the reels,
I get a second chance and the splice is just so.
My children I push on carousels with doppelgangers of animals.
No one even questions.
They are mine.
They laugh,
It's in sepia as they spin around; and love it and they never die; and we live fresh air; and my heart never plummets.

Like a meteor,
Like blasted Orion,
Falling down from space.
My life hangs on the bandolier of that sky giants frame.

We are the dust of romanticism's books.
We sit on the pages and speculate every hook. Every line.
We fish hooked in lines of lies.

My life’s an 8 1/2 by 11 of all the pain I've ever felt.
My wife’s a scar that shreds my heart.
My children smiles are fake lines, I part.

The problem wasn’t the lie of love.

The problem was that I believed.

The problem follows not the roses petals.

The problems the thorns I eat.

My anguish, pain, hatred, and sadness will live forever.

My body will mourn and wail with the sunset of dusk on the grave of loves hoax,
For eternity.

****** of Beccas *****.
My ***** mix the moistures together to make. The mixture of cocktion
Of a mist
Of dank un integrity
Crapping on the fall of shat marriage

As we bask in the dance of *****
Falling down the legs of the most beautiful of beatnik
Without knowing
It

How I've forgotten my divisions

Of the words.
I used to care of those things

Now though I am listening to howl and not in the writing criteria for my writing

I
Usually have the things I need
Now I will have a small baby head
Who knows not **** from suckle
From honey from agave
From desert

How I miss ***** in how drunk I froth in the night dry and the calm she can never know in my head how I wish to be her and for her to be me
How I wish to be one as the howl of two larynx in a bird body
Come thy voice.

Calm child soothe

The world is all beer can.
Glass towers made from yeast and tin
To be shot down by pellets from Redrider missiles of nickel and zinc
Followed with the laughter of boys with freckles.

They watch me fall from the shards as it cuts my fingers. They glide across the apex of crystal that is ethanol.

My breath hangs in your mouth as I exhaled it out.
I pulled my tongue out last night to say I love you. Now I'm swallowing it back. With a full gut.

I have borderline.

Between my pain and my plans. To follow the moths wing in the day to the river.
Or follow baby steps toward a shaky future.

Is this really my life? I wake up at night and know my reply.
Or life's aside.
It's shared.
The road forms a circle.
That circle is the spittle drinking around the mouth of the beer can.

Glass cuts the cords of fate.
As it falls with my severed hands.

I think if I hurt enough.
I could write forever.
The blood is the words on the page.
With all names drawn in the skin of every girl or soul or body I've written in.

I'm just trying to make something beautiful. Make something that makes me happy.

Seeing these people in the world I live.
I know it's not real.
I know that I'm just music in flux but a different metal designed into the fabric of complexes sewn into  the crystals.

I can't sniff from my nose now. Cuz I'm 26
That's too old.
Not old enough to die.
And you're never old enough to die. Nor young enough to live.

Beer by beer we walk the streets in new lights.
All the cities offer new drains to seap into and breathe damp clusters of anathema.
Gaining asthma.


The loss from living is your lungs.
Breathing in is worth the pain of the silica of sniffing the grass spicules after a rain.

Chewing our way through cellulose and evolution of carnassials.

this is hell because I say it is.
I'm goin to die inside of it
now you cant stop me cuz the tourniquets,
not your hands upon.
mine it is.

safe treasure to lie on
I stay here in the masking tape
taped up against it.
holding close till death's quiescence
escape is impossible
the collapse of body is
take in step
depth torn from ones ***** creates humans.
we cream humans out of our windpipes
through the words we hate the words we love and the words we ingest creating years long relationships that **** ourselves and our partners and our health and happiness
all for you little miscreants
we sound bite

death falls upon head bands
death holds its hand waist span for creeping death on our limits of bands measure expanding fissure on my backs expanse of nerves
they torture true \

every day with every move
these kids spill their hate
I gave them from the feelings
I felt they inherited with every song that I soothed them with
I hate this
I **** and peel my skin I slip my slime I steal life from every hoove I walk around the animals life
I slave a forth from my head
I tithe this tax
I slurp it all up to invigorate from the death I
feel I **** my self.

death to the dishonor I have done myself

have I grown true humans, ill never let
my self, off of the hook that if shoved in my pelt,
will I lose all the worth and the building I've dealt,
to the structure the skeleton of this tower I've built.

till it crumbles,

till its stagnant.

This giant tyrant Moloch, of epic proportions, ******* the life of everybody.
Galaxies crumble before it's feet.
The voice of hopes ****** from lungs, by a machine.
Anti heart/lung decree, fathomed, exonerated by release.

Singing, pleading, saying.

Come now breakdown and you'll cry,
Come now breakdown and you'll cry,
Come now breakdown and you'll cry,
Come now break down, break down.

no, longer the sun, a blacked out cosmos devoid of heat,
filled with sorrows where feeling meet.

A destroyed colossus, of a world, dead to the core,
Destroyed, employed by death and set to gore,
The eyes of saviors, one by one.
Set to resolve the travesties,
On free exploits of dreams,
And of beauty.

So come all ye faithful, joyful, and destructed,
Consumed, detached, disrupted,
And made up to believe, that we all have rights to succeed.

Amputated laced with vines, holding all that's left inside,
Of your minds erased, infused with lies,
Pressures meant to defeat, to defeat.

To defeat the cultivating mind, encapsulated behind closed eyes ****** in by,
The winds of black holes, called leaders,
And social servants guided by light, disguised by heavy eyes.

I hate the tenements.
The ***** consumed in vast amounts,
Vague visions not in pretty eyes,
But tortured ****** up howling nights.

We wont be destroyed, roaches of the earth, a life inside fires pyre,
No in distress, in detest, and duress.

This place must be cursed, but we won't be detained.
We are the dust of the earth, resurrected to destroy.

This souls is excrement.
This souls consumed.

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.

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.

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.

I'm dissecting my heart today
I'm going to a hotel room
No one will follow me
The bathtub is full

Walk to the convenience store
Bruised ankles.
Bad night of skating
Hotel room empty

Filled again by my draping body
Stupor
Falling over chairs
I hang my head on the bed

Falling deep into gravity
The center of everything
The heart
Tearing

Councilling the loss
Creeping in the fenestrae
Crashing into the bricks
That make up my middle

The middle of everything
Guilt
Agony of ones self


A hate that is no ones but your own fault
A person you can't escape
Until finally the grey matter or all the blood runs away from you
Because it hates you so much

You hate you so much
You hate you so much

The liquor stores distance is the only thing keeping you from it
So ****** that you can't even bring yourself out of the hotel bathroom
Or out of the tiles
The white tiles
The grout crimson
Filled up.

We are derelict isomers of forgotten human death.
Stones rolling down Prometheus backs.

Gathering all that kills,

Ghosts' of mans greatness stuck in the gills of the fish of time.
In the ocean of disfigured human atrophy,
Of the fire of soul.

A treason to all.
We will never accumulate the meaning.

We will just continue seething,
The will of our existence.
We will give it to anyone who ask,
But ourselves.

Man is the hero.

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

It is times when we are ripped away by facts,
That we hate this illusory dream,
Of tangled hair with kissing fingers,
Tantruming under lovers seams.

Oh to touch such dark hair,
To line my skull with such thoughts,
And decorate a house unkempt,
Destroy the cobwebs and chaos.

I am but a single placement in the sky,
A blip of light etched to the back drop of night,
Attracting, making a binary star,
Kissing into cold airs space finding his broken piece of heart.

My lips wither, to slugs with salt upon their backs
Hands into the sadness of dark oceans of bile melt
I'm the ice heart
Of the gates

What I did does nothing.

When you walked from my life to mechanisms I crumbled
I creeped and creaked into you again
Through your ears and out your tongue twisted
You vined me down your veins then kidneys then bladder and I infect you

Through your pelvis I came again.
You leaned lurched your back flexed your stomach stretched your abs

I flew back fluxing to your stale heart of an excuse

Me crying in the floor holding my dignity in my **** spitting.
Collapsing my chest for a grasp full of your breast
Fling yourself upon ever stake you see vampire girl
Succubus woman
Killer of dreams

Now sitting with your head in a toilet.
It was better in my toilet.

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.

I left my heart in a dumpster.
My life in a gutter.
I shutter when i whisper,
We once loved one another.
As cold naked in the alley,
Under street post lamps.

Dark and damp, dark and damp.
I lay heaving cramps.

Everything is ugly its all grey,
As dust storm in the dead sea,
Every blink,
sand will fling,
to my eyes in my dreams.

The dust cant cover up your trashed out corpse.
Holes in your neck and feet,
I listen to your voice.
Save me. Save.

Longing and craving.
Save me. Save.
Death for today.

This desert of the city behind the pizza parlor.

I haven’t left this spot since it happened.
In between this depository for waste and my own waste of space.
Phantoms **** themselves, picked on by rats and freegans, and murderous ruffians of soul.
Everything here in this xeric hole.

Kills. Just kills.

No. Save me. Save.

I couldn’t my darling now your lost to this ****.
And with you alone my body shall die.
I shall lay with it here under this deadlampost moonlight.

We lay exhumed, tissues being destroyed by fungi,
destroyed and hungry, dead and corpsing,
mute, yet singing.
exalted, grieving.
love couldnt save us, yet the powers that be,
neglected our bodies,
lead our essence to become one with the streets.

Can you believe?
I almost let a ******* job blow my brains out
steal me from my kids and love
this system rots us inside out

it makes us dissolve and **** our selves back through a straw
and say we still aren't enough
the catharsis of it all is slipping
oozing through life not on our terms
this capital is rot incarnate.
Death encapsulated in a hermetic chamber

I breathed my last labored breath face beneath a pillow
and woke up to failure
a failure that could start the rest of life
failing up for us
is giving into the quit.

Brain unlocked, heart bound in broken promises
to children and now fear of lack of value
and resource to feed them full.

This prison immolated
crystal chandelier  impaling
only pretty to them
when stained with our blood
soaked geometry splattered
tessellated across the porcelain walls

they only smile when we weep

staring at us in our cage
as we writhe
and they dine
on the blood of our infants
on their labor not yet
realized.

Eating our children and us
right before our eyes
out of the sunlight

they only laugh when we have nothing
they only feel when we hurt
they're only full when we are starving
only sated when we need.

monstrous predators of money
and greed
they only smile when we bleed

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.

The king is dead.
We fed him knives and liquor.
Anything to seal his fate.
That much quicker.

The king is rotted in the media.
The fly cored out his body with maggot young.
Bled the liquor out with a funnel and dug in the carcass;
For blood rusted cutlery.

Calm and focused.
I lose my love for his liege.
As he ***** all the women, made our children believe,
He's the answer to questions,
In the ether still linger.
I burn up the vapor, with his name ghostly whispered.

The empires dead, we are red in the face of the answer,
The king wasn't there, now his bodies a phantom.
And I’m not shoulder deep in his blood from shoveling
But shackling myself in a corpse wrapped for posthumous reverie.

The sovereign lives!
He is you, not me.
A shackled neck for every broken king.

Self ownership ends, with the plows yolked to every sheepish smile, pan the lens.

The brain flows top down in the system of men.
This grey matter cage is forced through the gin.
Our corporeal visage is saliva in the face of the Prometheans before us.
We are the ******* if we don't roll fates stone,
And our eyes aren't picked out.
We should burn in that fire that so melted the wings of Icarus.


I'd rather my entrails eternally settle everyday in the belly of a crow, than be a stone with rested moss shaping the kings carved throne.

Encrusted with Slave Carcasses.

the world is over the animals are dead. Left are the machinations of neutrality. Equilibrated entropy. Haunting the desert. The Brownian machines are dead after the ratchet of life broke all its teeth to the tool. Broke on dinner plates of all the energy in plutonium. The Greek gods were real and as jealous as was spoke .wanting back the mass taken from the quantum blips. no longer do things move forward. Progress is non meaning. Pushing back and forth in place the tricycle to an unlearned humanity. It all imploded all is implossive. My strings and nails crack and fall off together.

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.

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

So much hope set in the height of 8"

The curlewing curls of
pea plants
decadent

Continuos flowing of the firmament
Breaking the concrete walk of the beat to the scene we live our lives between street meat
Imploding our boundaries while humans surround me no air or oxygen just fountains trying too hard to be scenic

I have a garden
I own the earth
But not In the end
It will be my dad

All carbon and cozy covered in primrose plots moldy and pozy'd
So many flowers mounded on the grave of a detritus that it worthy.
To be part of physics
Oh happy squeaking willow branches I remember
Oh china tree blossoms white
-just soon to come out-
Ou the bombs though

The agony hanging over me when I know that there is not a peace treaty from betwixt man fingers plotting graphs of how to not hurt each other

Yet I swoon to the garden and it befuddles my every move tripping me with plant with organism with hippy mumbojumbo
Convoluted  material
That makes an aqueous pressure and fluidity to drown all the youth
Thou must grow but this isn't this fixed rates word attack

No. I am here to be the garden
To show walden in myself for my selfs joy
I am here for selfishness
Not evil as you couldn't see me


To pick apart the pieces
If the leaves rent in the movement to just create me
To tease and toss the strings ran from below them to the trees seams.
To root the ever awesome conglomerated picture of a fixture of an ornament
Of the human life that Seams to stem from what is Lendon.
This is homage to myself
And so is the thought.

Pressures of Atlas ruin the vertebral Column geometry

The circles weight stresses the cylinder to a breaking edge. A cut
Math was wrong

Angular and pathetic is this central pump. It leaks from the head gaskets when you add in ethanol
It squeals out noises under the accumulated atmospheres
CortiZol extends the impellers out till they scrape the walls interior

Finally it's released blown out for keeps
Can't take it back
Neither can take back

The pump withers
Proteins shiver
Brownian heat delivers
Bellowing cold from a cosmos of foam
Spine tattering morbid

A decayed thought process that does nothing but jump
Jumping and bounding conclusions that are meaningless regardless

Atlas gave up and the world fell onto gravitys shoulders

Do you wanna see my heart.
Look in my *******, eyes.
Do you want to hear it ripping, back and forth,
listen to my ******* blood throat.
My teeth constantly try to knife my myocardium to exhaustion.

Most people have to hold back their tongues with their dentition,
Or cloister their words with their cheeks,
Tucked inside near their palettes.

No.Not.Me.

I’m holding back the force of death,
The force of love.
And its all i can do to not **** every ******* soul.
All the hearts of men.
Coagulate inside this pit.
Empathy, destruction, lust, fervor for wanting.

A passion so burning, the sun dries up.
The molten hydrogen exhaust itself, and kicks and screams as it tries to nail its claws away from the cement as i come to ingest it.
It tries to escape me.

Do you want to see my love.
This cage cant hold it.

...

You will see my essence even with your ******* eyes gouged out.
I spill into the multiverse.
Slipping.Like.Space.

i can only believe in a person so much
before they have to walk on their own ******* feet
i can only have so much passion for another
before they have to make their own ******* lungs breathe
and their own ******* heart beat

I cannot be your blood.
My face mask rust
the red of the situation
is dramatic enough

I Hold all the water
deep inside
to gather hydrostatic pressure
to fill up these pipes

to fill your eyes with blood
to calm a raging sea
I wanna hold your love
but this glass case hull lacks the integrity

so motionless I feint
to drink the rays of light
that shine from porcelain face
and calm a dogged night

the moon cries for this iron maiden
the paper lungs puncture
the rush of air seethes pressure
as the lignen lines do rupture

the cellulase has been released
the paper tongue has been caught by teeth
the tracing paper wont map our stars
the universe does not belong to us

I crushed the velvet the stars and the sky
the poise I thought I had fell by the wayside
now I shake in pain in fear in mania
my hands are in my own throat strangling my blood supply to my cranium

this paper lung and iron mask eat each other then collapse
one with out the other isn’t worth its ****
so eat and eat until there's nothing left.

I lost the sincerity in my eyes.
A long time.
I spat the fire out,
Replaced with a fjord.
A glacier cut mountain hole.
Shake and fake trembling.
I killed a little boy in my head
Using logic as a razor to cut his throat and sever his spine till all the jelly in it spill.
Replace with a steel core.
Unmoving.
Brittle, albeit,
Courser skin.
Less heart,
And more dead.
Cadaveric,
No love inside.
Only abhorrence,
For every single existent existence.

But I got girls.
What's that helped me.
Continuation of cycles of self-deprecation.
Grew roots,
Spread limbs,
But cut the phloem out.

Bleed the ******* sap.

Everything is ice. Everything is ice
The barbwires frozen and the ephedra vines are white

But the snow melts on my nose
And your hands are cold
And the kiss is over nothing left but the spit

The rings been worn
It hurts that the vegetables rotted in that cellar.
The gowns been starched and the freezer just tightens it

Onions ruined cabbage dead
Carrots putrid
And the vilest

You've ever seen
It looks like starry night

I followed you into the mesquite when the shinry oak calls my name. I'm dragged to the deep by my tongue when the thing I needs a brain

Cut into two hemispheres a naval orange into
A ****** mess of sticky stuff
Nourished by the juice

I should have froze you too
I should have froze in the ice lake
Then melted once the blizzards done but I've seemed to made a mistake.

Bleeding in the snow I clench my fist and chest
Wrenching all my guts last glory
Death falling on fleur de lis

You're my flower with withered petals cold dead blue.

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

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

Scared us into saving us through the pelvis of death on 34th street.

Got out of the car
Took off in the night
Cried your heart through the holes in your eyes
A monster chasing you
Help
Then a human kissing cabbage heads alone
Swerving 100 miles waileyed
Shoot myself in the arm bleed out to the music of bukowski on the bare mattress
With a hole in the wall and the neighbors ******* for once
Now their walls are brown and mine garnett.

Scared us into a doctors office to make the floor drenched in placenta

Drunk night
Marathon run
Followed by a shrinks chair filled with a bag of **** with a **** and ***** for a mouth
And drawn on hands
Just full of ****

One Irish goodbye from killing myself

The one time you cant trust.
The hardest part.
Is when your puking, in the floor,
clutching a heart tied in knots.

I am the floor.
And the ***** I spit up,
Is your hair.
It's wired it's way,
Into every stomach and vein.
And I am merely a shape,
Clinging in these malignant strands.

A ghost shape cut from starlight.
On the ash tray wood floor planks. Yawing and lurching,
With lost control,
Strapped with constraint.

The ghost gave up it's insides .
Gave up it's happiness,
Gave up all it's heart mind,
Locked it in a box,
Under the floorboards,
And nailed the shutter door panel ******* shut.

His eyes bled out into the Amoire.
The coat closet has his heart.

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 ******.

All of these human can be nothing but be basic and face it
It's tracing the lines of the facade that's been spliced hundreds of strides and on mauve colors lines placed then
Retraced to the grid full of masterfully hid fingers stagnant and bent tripping placid and flaccid like ***** that are emaciated and crypt ****** and splattered like pavement placed upon pickled waves strafed across walled like cinder blocks half way through baking
Entombed youth encased in the catwalk of toxins
Ensuing and spewing no lines not concrete times and dimed up in baggy a sporadically creased into godsends.
There is no god in the streets he's illegal and should have bend the taxes been spread towards all the youth it's intwined threads. The volumous illusion of writing. Put into cursive this is not my writing ******* stop hacking my account you credophile.
The only way to live is the high life.
It is thing overcoming the tops of woven rugs covered so that beneath there's a heap of root vegetation growth so deep seeded it grows in the sand it is mired in. Below the seep of the sin it's been trampled in. These horses don't have legs. Just *****. To just braid yourself in them.

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.

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