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.

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.

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.

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.

***** 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.

Crinkling anhydrous
I contort to shapes described by Pythagorus.
My shell collapses
Livings a burden heavy to break the camels back
Words for me are needles in needle stacks
You can't get out with out cutting your throat

Every time you leave I'm wringing my hands in my car
Every time I see men I reach towards the bar
For another beer

I'm sitting in my own belly full of bile and I need to ***** out these tears
And I need to cleanse my spirit
And I need to shine my gears

Cause I am rusting shut. My mouths left in the forest and the tin mans oilcan hands cut

Back in my truck I tuck and hide the thoughts yet want a concrete wall to spill my mind upon
And make a canvas out of the windshield of glass covered in grey mass

The endings more poetic then a **** with a crown extending.

He's probably got the passion in his sinnew to blow up...something. he's worth being dead. His family says they said. If one day you met him. He'd probably smile at you fast. You'd hate his guts after that. Toward sun he looked onward till his gaze died down inside his throat. He heavied over the hate he's engulfed. The sun hangs lower. The cans weigh down on his neck. The paints scratching. He's got friends though. Theyll write an articulate article. He's just food for dust mites

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.

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.

The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree, The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree, The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree, The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree,

I shall be enveloped, intoxicated in it's last words effigy,
Transcribed across the tablets of the deserts final plea,
It searches for my body
The coyote calls my name,
The sands ask for me as a trophy
They swallow up my grave,

The slits of eyes in my wrist and thighs show my life's vision out to sky, it sees the world from the deep inside where I hid it in my skin and my arteries,

When you find me dead bury me in the sand, il be a sand angel in 2010,

I was never worth consoling, hid from every one I knew, finally at the end you found you hate me too.

Guilts too hard to take, it ***** in my soul like a vacuum, guilt beats hate, Benton falls down in the bathroom,

The tiles watch him **** on the floor
He collapsed then shat and vomited more, whole lives fall in the toilet. too moist as miscarried babies,
So bury me in the desert,
So the mocking bird can't say ****.

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 ******.

Im an alcoholic.
But at least i can admit it
Emitic
And by that i mean i can sit up to myself in the mirror.
With a beer in hand and eyes crying beer the liver tears up and swells out the scars
Hepatic scerossitic serotyping for the virus of failure.
Im a weaker fatter lion
And capital won  and owns all my means of production and facebook lost function
And i dredge the bottom with my thoughts to bring back dead babies dead police and dead old guys they shot

And fall starts
Autumn begins it will be orange as my ***** after a night i wont remember
But the black out and anger will haunt her forever  and the orange shall be decoration to bring on the winter in full swing with depression


And more beer
No longer a happy guy
I havent energy anymore
Im not the guy you saw at the show that you legitimately thought was on speed because i was high on loving myself anymore and doing at least two punk shows a week.

Now im just an alcoholic.

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.

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.

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

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 *******...

Economics of doing what you hate
Incellic feminast

The dead are our zoo animals.
Their cages beneath the soil.
Listen to the earth breathe
with their desiccated lungs cracking/creaking

They don't care if we watch them ****. Hidden from our view

I want my body
Thrown in the desert
The
coyotes
To gorge on me

The vultures to
Eat my sin
No countries
Contain my carbon

Imaginary
Photographs
Of happy days
To keep me in

No funeral music
No black veils
My smile
My skull
My own
I die alone

No paper can encapsulate my life
No tradition will give you closure
You cant steal closure

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 :)

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.

I’m opening my chest
Handing out ribs for everyone
Each person a shard of time
Each glass splinter from the cage that locketed my heart

Can you imagine the carnival **** for my death

Crystalline creation cremated for wax
Candles made from me bleed
Ossified dribbles of molten mass
Dehydrate, to dust and snort my being

I can take a nail to each joint
Contort ligaments
Hexagram my body parts to a plywood headstone
Force a blood curse on this carcass
**** my mouth with your tears
Take photos of my death
Spread it all over the time segments
Shove it in every iris space
Trapped in the black hole for eternity
A moment it’s happened
The light can’t be taken back
It can bend and refract but is forced to bounce around forever.

Photons of evil.
A martyr of existance.

In this cave I'm at home, I am dead to the bone,
my marrows unbloody and my skulls just a tome.

I sink i sink i sink and i sink.
In this muck I dissolve my speech.
Needing no one to breach,
my lair where I grieve. I don't want to leave.
In refuse, I breed.
I broke my own tarsals and I bust out my teeth,
so words cant seep, from a mouth with broken feet.
Tiptoeing to tympanums.

Entrails prolapse from orifices. Pressure delegates my new motions.
I now must hold my own esophagus in my palms.
I now must clutch my stomach from my navel.
I now have to hold all of me in, because no one else will/
can.
No longer under control of anything,
pressure grinds my teeth to nothing.
My organs are liquid metal molten bleeding Ebola,
every pore agony of the lurching of cells,
all at once committing secession ,
against the parts they connect too.

This is proof there is no god.
This is the cave of a sink of hate.
This is soul atrophy.
A trophy of losing your hope when rock bottom was the chasms final means of escape.

Lucifer leaps from my mouth to the sky.
To reign anew.
To destroy the sun,
and show a new light from the rest of the punches in the blanket of the universe,
that,
that blasted sky lamp has always threatened us away from.

we can see peace now.
We can finally be rid of that overbearing street post,
and see that it aimed to destroy us.

We sleep in the cave now.
You and I.
Agony together.

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

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

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'm a hung dumpster! Alcohol flask bucket
Sacked into the trash can of grocery store monopoly the end of all produce and of production
Collapse
Coronary killer vegetables
Rotting in the stomach
Begotten sons of Aspergers eating asparagus
the symptoms of collectivism and social surplus. colliding and,
The end of evolve.
The cities you see are the collecting cells pooling to cesspit trudging on tracheing breath.
Collapsing lungs with no space left
The cornucopia is over. It fell down with its mortar and grout lain to crust into soil. Traipsed through toil torture and insolence.
The Crimea fell next comes bombs next comes Obamba. Capitulation with motor skills
Feigning docility and anti-hostility mortar round bills.
Mountains from Jerusalem cricket ant hills

I am your friend though we owe the same blood
I am no different yet I give nothing up
I claim all the land just as you do
You take and you take and I lose and lose
Corruption and solitude
Killing people only gets you less friends
We are mirror yet very mad at it
.
My time will be up only but once.
This is the one time I'm not scared of death
But the glimmer in her eyes laughs me through it.

This empty ***** bottle,
has been cuddled and swaddled and squandered.
In my ***** it seeps to every dame between,
a dad and not knowing her own preponderance.

I ****, I ****, by the ****** of my hilt,
of the sword of unrighteous, self help,
and filling their wombs with guilt.

I've never helped anyone all of my life.
Though they would tell you different mistruths,
of their positional view, so skewed by proof,
undo, that I sent them through.

It's  a fun house of lies and mirrors shaping figures,
of veneers, so botched that plastic surgeon quacks wouldn't own up to
the scars.

I ferment peoples living.
I turn drunk ****** into angels.
I mask charlatan as queens,
and poison my own gut with the fakes in my head.

Crops die.
Crust subdues verdance.
Chronos rhymes the days and night.
Course subjugation to penance.

But now I seethe my own head into my throat,
and end in ink wrote as prose.
Killing beauty. Art.
**** Art.

Today is.
Death.
Tomorrow's not life,
nor living,
breathing nor breath,
oxygen's just a molecule,
it causes no spark,
except in molecules charged,
with dividing and subdividing,
and rejoining and conjoining into something that can use it.

happy flights :)

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

Guilted,

In hate,

Postpartum,

Separation.

Convulsing, spitting
coughing, blaming.

I'm ruining my life, just let me die.

Set fire, Ego Death
brain case, gnashed teeth.

guilt braces on leg, only this holding me up.
swelling belly of the person i love

Mend yourself
do it on your own
no one can help you

they try and say
you're doing great
they don't understand

i was so much
more fragile
than i thought i was

im just fine
terror in my eyes
a soulless stammer

no one loves or likes you,

dead. and no one cares



They found you in the
apartment
your stench ruined their day.

an indigent  inconvenience

they left the blood on the floor
they'll burn it up anyway

the bugs love you more than
you ever felt
no one could fill the void in
your existence
the humors once inside you
leaked to fill the crevices
in the complex plumbing

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I like it when people stare at me
now
They make me happy
now
they gawk, Speculate
Probably even think about me when they leave.
Maybe at home
in their beds, next to their wives
Husbands
i may stand next to their children in their minds
in a sequence of constant banter about all things that happen
day to day
especially that day
I just sit and look up this
over contrasted
over saturated
array of photons
beaming my own image into a reflected
discombobulated
over exaggerated
caricature of what they
see
im not even there
i am perception
eating a burrito
with symbols and
fake hands throat and heart
merely concept in construct

a castle of light with no
windows to shine to humanity
although...
they wont know that.
i.construct.

Nah you were a corpse with a noose around your neck with just a blip of a heart beat on an EKG made of trees laying to rest.

She's a scared little girl and the only way she knows how to survive is off the blood and life of other people.

So I tease and tease the needle injecting, inspecting the vein liquid.

Laying up in that bed for hours with your kidneys being your friends and your head ripping your chest from your intercostals tossing your throat out your teeth through the grate lain cross your open gape

A chamber we both never wanted you lain.
Gas chambering hospital of mucus and babies puking their dead guts out.

Septic ulcer, septic shock, sepsemia.
All the bacteria love you like your their mother inlaws.
And finally you set us free from mine
That caniving, ruthless wretch watched you in the bed.
Floated above ours watching us both.
Escaped we did and finally we won't go back.
Anorexic we starve ourselves now of sharing carbon and gravitating space pits.
The blankets still make dips where we lay but they aren't the same blanket, the threads aren't long enough to cross and make up the same fabric between 100 miles so that an immediate affect between the atoms can be felt between us.

My babies still kicking though.
That's safe.

Your arms,
Are like the days I used to cut myself for you,
In front of my computer.
Pricked flayed.
From the times it split too much depth.

In the Red Sea vein.

Like the times I'd drink,
Till I ****** in the corner of the floor,
In my room.
With the door handle loosed,
So someone can find me in the morning.

My whole life is a corner
With you the coroner
In a morgue with no form to it
With the bodies on the slabs cut up.
Impatient and waiting to be whole,
Not facing the wall  of your skull.

This rooms too full.

My bodies piled on the others.
Autopsy waiting room.
You're in that cottage at the edge of the abyss.
The event horizon to hell.
What Dreams Won't Come.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.