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

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

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

I Never Flinched A Bit.

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

It will still be just ****.

I wandered in on a world of dead rock. I laid with it. Smelt the essence together with carbon and metallic lifelessness.
To create a place of pretty. A sadness overcame.
I came to feeling. To knowing. Sentient.

A rootless contusion never ending.
A bottomless chasm of void.
The pit follows deeper and deeper it travels,
To the hollows of sorrow contempt I’m born.

I grow to feet from the ground where I lay,
As my body draped the floor sprawling and loose.
Upon these legs I rise, and so rise my eyes.
The hollow void I have lingers yawing in my stomach. Ulcerating my mucosal cavern.

What I see
Before me
On this road
On this desert of the necropolis:

Metropolis mass grave,
A mausoleum for civilization,
Möbius of war.
The reflective glint in my eye was of no mans eyes at all.
The death of hope.

Sea of sky scraping spires.
The dead hollow bones left after a city extinguishes.
Millions of towers with red glowing eyes, where blue life used to flourish, now twinkle in and out of this plane.
These giants graze, on the concrete and sway...with the wind.
Colossus of marble, petrified forever in granite with the internal flora that haunted their bowels.
They now have no agenda...city percolates to extinction.
They will forever amble with no purpose.

Once they housed the hearts and minds of microbes that built them.
The builders of hero worship.
They died in the 20's.
Left are the shells of a dream and a forest of buildings.
New York died circa 1900.
United States crumbles: 1776

I'm melting
Icicles crashing
snow fashioned animals
melting from beneath

melting
this ice carousel
******* breaking
cant you hear hear me

I shall hibernate in the eyes of winter. Torpor in the wake of fall.
Crucify the image i made of you
Mount corpus delecti Ensconce The carcass on my ceiling wall

I’m reminded now of that creature when i sleep or i wake
I need this stone of guilt wound around my vertebrae
So it hangs so it hangs so it sways with the weather vane
So it hangs so it hangs
So it slowly brings feelings again

We need this Contrition On the roof of our eyelids
To the struts of our mouth guilt through your body infest

Every nook and cranny

I crush all these blown glass animals. They all try and creep to my brain hiding in the amygdala
Take shards of them
Ingest them
Carve your likeness in my arms

No beat can hit me hard enough
No stone breaking bones could slough
How this carnival creature menagerie
Has destroyed all my self conscious stockpile
Esteem was a book that sold millions of copies and mine burnt up
The firemen. Came and disintegrate the pages in a pile a mass grave of individual triumph

Carousels destroy childhood

Holding hands destroys manhood
Just when you think you can finally stomach the ride
Those fingers course up your arm down your throat and pull out your insides

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.

And I have struggled through alcoholism
And I have struggled with pain
With guilt with blame
I've even struggled with the thought of struggling
And like a worm I wriggle and writhe through life
Trying to shed the exuvia that I love inside to shine to the world my true scales
My true merit
Not what I am but what I want to be

Through struggle I've tugged through and dug through the coffins of friends
Shackles of hardship
And been drug down by the anchors of change and hardships of stains upon my heart and the hearts of others
But I'm gunna dig my way to china
Find all the things that are finer
Release from gravity to sling shot altitude raising above the atmosphere as my guilt lifts
My ballon I will hold to and hold floating swift to escape this earth with a lightness in my heart.
I will bring that sun to all. I will raise my arm and grab at that fire ball to illuminate my loved ones.
To bring back to the darkness of man the truth.
To weigh upon the evil as the lead weight it laid upon me and dig those graves up.
I will save my friends.
I will make a new family.
I will be my unfaltering hero I've always needed.
And yours.

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

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

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

I was walking in the woods
I was followed by your ghost
Your the girl that I had drowned
Face down in my blood

You drank in the spit that I sprayed upon the floor as a texture to paint feelings upon a wall of ribs of a calf to grate your skin and my skin together
An alloy of animas

We shall carve with your cold faded hand into the knot of a heart wood forever in this copse
Wriggling to corpse in
Dead in the soil
Our wedding bed

Flaky shaky and spineless
As we should have been

We've always been the molded crown lining the ceiling watching others live.

The pine mounts the ground
To behead us.
We finally accept and egress towards the detritus floor
The needles shaking as we quake ever closer to the firmament ground where we were born
Becoming the fungus we love so dear
You're my slime mould

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

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.

The winter Air hangs so crisp and i wish to hang in it
and wisp with the ether.
Drown in the calm. asphyxiate on the atmosphere
As submersed in photons that provide little heat to the overwhelming bleak

The grass is gone. All the water fell from the roots or left from its ceiling to the stratosphere
The vapor hangs around me. Suspended with me
But with lightness
Not weighted and tugged but stagnant as these sun rays. And the light wind breeze pushes me slightly too and fro
I'm like a twig in the wind with sails of leaves
But there's no spark in me. And the birds are the only ones who know. The contemplation has ended and i'm now just a temple of carbon and still blood.

The mocking birds mouth is as still as the tree.

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.

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

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

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

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

Clenching our ribs our femurs out hips
This basement emotions mirth

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

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

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

I grew up named ******
Transformed into dad.
Dragged her down but she doesn't think so


For her buoyant cheeks keep me afloat

How she will wish for such devices as I get to dip over

I shall try and try and pry towards keeping her safe
Yet she will hate me

Keeping her from this would be the worst
She would never go through this point she should dull through
She will never know that I feel every sting
I will never tell her
I will only feel her love
And feel love for her life

I think about you and I every day.
I drink because I know what's to come.
Doing everything for one person.
Even staying with your mother.
Tho you aren't mine to stay.
I choose to hide behind you.
Because you are strong without knowing
As I wish to know one day
Because you are stable and same
Through times you know don't change
When they do
Because your spine is strong enough to climb
Yet supple enough to crumble from our embrace

Hugging you to the ground
Lightening striking through my heart my love.
You won't get to love me like I love you
Nor like how maybe you wish you'd like to.
That's the saddest thing.

I know I will never be enough
But I will always know and tell you that you are more special than your situation.
More than how you feel

Feelings are illusions too.
You beautiful perfect creature are nothing but what you want
Not what I want or she wants or we the collective.
WANT.
There is no want.

There's just you in Your life.

Live.

We make dead bodies out of our beds.
Sleep with them like our best friends.
Back to back,
Spine to spine.
Our relationships put pillows over,
The unresponsive corpses.
Suffocating the coal of closeness,
And we trample through our mattress.
Each thread is tied to the same letter in a vein connecting hearts.

Through ink and blood.

The noose holds our grieving neck
The pillow suffocates our  cowardice
A syringe stops guilt we can't make up
And a final bow and jump ends our regret


For not being what we once knew we should be.
I melt with you in the end.

Suicide pact friend ship.
Notes to the dead.

My arms have been.
Cut off.
Feet.
Nailed to the floor.
I don't know what,
But I'm doing it wrong.

I feel so much.
At stake.
Like stakes through the heart.

I am grief incarnate.
No one's died.
I feel like all,
the flowers.

I'm sitting in a gravesite.
The ceremony was beautiful.

Was it.
0nly held.
And was I.
Only to be put in the ground.

I feel petrified in dirt.
Then dismembered,
De-powered, and swaddled in earth.

Can't move at all.
My brain's been eat out.
Imprisoned in this bed.
Being swallowed,
Whole trying to keep.

My insides down.

But it doesn't work

Lonely, Sad, Men.

I wanna be remembered for my lack of integrity,
my pessimism, and my doubt.
"The life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."
Is the fine point in life.
Se la vie - de la mort.
Such is life-as in death.

Such is life of Death.
"Life's horrible at best."
Well **** that thought,
and die in your chest.
"You sir, are a *******."
I'll never be as famous or as bright,
or have shining achievements as adorning night lights.
Sconces.
Crowning my mantle or hiding dusty walls;

But you’re dead now and your body was all
The end of mans night has come, I see an endless morning.
Not as a prophetic insight; but as a lonely mans ending story.
The prosthesis of the heart.

Liquify,

Modernize,

Affix,

Me.

Dicast parts,
Formalize,
Metastasize.

I am Growing this agar's too small.

Feral,
Lycanthropy,
Hearts.

Through the stigma,
my bones bleed,
my wreaths hanging,
Sagging.
Of unwelcome,
all my being.
of unwelcome,
all my being.

The Truth of getting older,
the senescence of emotion
The people we love and once were,
Are gone forever.

I am not for this heartless place.
I am but Peter Pan,
understanding.

A bitter struggle,
While trampled underfoot.

Of a world,
Not built for us.

Built for no one.

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.
*****.

I sleep.
Hanging.
From a chan.
Delier.

I ***
To the chorus
Of fornicate
Voices

I pose
myself
At the mannequins
Femur

I sit
Inside
The emp.
Ty mall.

And watch
You ****
And slip.
It all.

Away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Micron thin recurve spines
Guided down the grooves in the bones
Pulling your sadness through the veins that follow the strings stinging to your toes

White powder
Glistens in the moon
Spreading light.
Sap away your stomach
Ulcer
Festering
Hole burned
Altering
Your smile strips

Paint plummets
On the top of your foot

Left alone two days
The paint dried
Tears didn't

The fence around your neck
Holding high your chin and head
Squeezes a throat
Door
Cry
Gates bashed with bleached
Red

Don't want a soul  to hop out the opening .
Hang the ghost sheet in the closet
Use a hanger put your body on it
Then hang the bones and meat next to the *****

Cut the sod
 24 inches wide
Dig deep only 2 feet
5 foot long and crumpled
Pieced perfectly for feeding

I had Your
Hand
But
You're eyes can't see me
The locket
I never got to give you
Would have held
Our Secrets
Had i got the time

Time Fell off,
the Veneer of our love
the body
Of our Chimera

Teeth, Fallout,

We cant share these,
the body of our Chimera

A Siamese foot out of the casket
the dependence of mind
the body of our Chimera

I lay on,
Top of you
coddling our parts pressed
together
trying, Melt in you
or just fall out into you

mixing waxes from two evils

our sick busted brains

The body dead
of our Chimera.

I hold our throat together, so it falls not apart, no  words can come out, trapped, in the forest of ivory monoliths and the strongest miscarriages, and you pull back the hammer, we fall to the black.

OUR MONSTER HAS DIED.

Teachers, moms, nurturing women always,
feel my pain.
As I stick my fingers into my mouth,
and try to chew off my insecurities.
Or my nervousness.
Or chewing off my boredom.
I'll chew off anything.
Can I bite your nails for you?

That's how I care for you.
I'll bite off your insecurity. Your pain. Your boredom.
Your lack of knowledge. Your prettiness.
I'd bite it all off for,
this is a love curse.
You had to walk in at this moment didn't you,
so I can give you what you need,
so I can bite off all that we can chew.

I want you to be happy. You will be happy.
Probably not with me. I want everything.
You're right about that.
I don't want you to have to bite your fingers.
I want to bite them all for you,
you’re not this way though.
I know you.

You have to do things, I have to do things.
I cant be your teacher.

Our paths cant cross,

and I cant mistake your hands for mine.

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.

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

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

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

**** that.

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

****** 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

Troglodytism. get betwixt thy cave **** rats. amass!!! beyond the wooded canvas of life.
and lay beside thy corpse of agony
in the pits of all foul'd demon beknownst to thou's angst.

there lay the chalice of life.
Oh to lay in the darkness'
o' to bask in the decadence of no light.

Anti heat
forth go ye unto distraction.
To over sensual
to photopic cancer
all bio centric failure that reveals itself in the concord of vestige

only one

only one who's skin, brines to salt. Only one who's writhed on the depth of the cave
sub terrain.
Becoming convoluted
with ulcers. In the brain.
Stomach
esophagus.
Till veins squelch the blood from oxygen as gills. Sea water.
till muscle over sinews, Myomeres.
till acts of mycotic deprecations elude your own grey. Destruction.
And sap what is left
the bends corrode all health.
You eek out a full metabolism.
You finish all hopes with each loathsome meal intake.
death.

Oysters take over.
They create their home
shell of man.
Disabled to a merman, made, morose.
Barnacles infest recesses,
chasms that held mountains of bountiful moral.
Filled till bursting in the case fit for a brain,
but these ocean vermin walk the tightropes of this goblins neural bag.
Tearing each synapse.
Like the innards of a necrotic recluse.

I am the dying vagabond of the ocean.
Finally succumbing to its ethereal pitch covered floor,
where no reflections mourn for me
and ghost wail me no remorse,
as I metamorphose.
Into, detritus.

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.

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

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

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

The mice even left.

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

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

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

Then the roache left too.

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

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

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

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

My liver left too.

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

They call it crude.

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

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

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

Requiescat in pace.

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

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

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



Hot.
Sauce.



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

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

It seems like these
Girls they got
These thing
Going

Right breaks
Lines
Like flowing
Thigh
Crushing us into points on a dot into internet bliss

****** by ****** ******* ******
Their. I's dotted miss. That no soul lies on the internet. It's not a bed to rest in.
It's a pit of battle. Boasting
In front of Ginsy
And Kowski
Don't just string words
Or you'll be like me trying to make the first *** shot on the world.

Grow a real root. Though it's hard. "I know" suburbia and such.
Calm down.
Don't ******* chive.
Grow a plant. Do something real.
Real guys are there. They are my friends. You don't have to be on this cite to make me feel cited. Just ask.
Go to English class and learn to hate poetry. Then re discover after you found out you're stupid. 'Cept you Quinn.
Then invent a new love.
It's you.
**** dudes.
Girls are so much more than Ginsberg ever said and less than Bukowski never did

The writings on white sheets,
of paper, meander into corners of peoples troubles,
hopefully they taunt correct hemorrhages that will impulse something.

I hope that when I write some person is confused.
Or else I've created no symbolism.

Ive created nothing of worth
or
of
more than it is.

This sallow fickle body I traipse in.
It's got bones filled with osteocytic stones to shape it.
They are calcium degraded, then traded for rigid text.
This body is hard and hollow.
Like bird bones.
Like the bonds between atoms.
This sick cadaver is nothing less.
Our cells become separate selfish entities,
incapable of helping themselves.
Indigent children with no child hostels.
With no help for the homeless youth of our own corporeal phantoms.

When the Aids takes us all,
The cancer takes its toll.
When the whooping cough kills our hopes.
When we die to our dreams of home.

We die all on our own.

The skin becomes parchment.

Some day these bones can be the frame to a poem of worth.
Hung in a rich mans house.
On his wall awkward awards adorned.
Creating what I never could by a poet who was as perfect as the others.

Now the calcium lies in me,
as I lie between sheets of this meat,
of human humus before it disintegrates,
to make plants much more beautiful;
but that calcium, that carbon will make a page.
That bone will make a frame,
and my frame will stand tall like the last building left in the earth.
As there are no more humans alive to see it.

The last iris of the universe will be. A sun.

Liquify
Modernize
AFFix
Me

Die cast parts
Formalize
Metastasize

Feral
Haunt
Metastasize

I’m growing
This agar’s
Too small

Soothe
The stigma
My palms bleed

MY wreaths
Of unwelcome
All my being

The truth of getting older
The senescence of emotion

The people we love and once were
Are gone forever

I am not for this Heartless place
I am but Peter Pan understanding

A bitter struggle
While trampled underfoot
Of a world not built for us

()
Motionless
Stammering
Pounding
my chest

Earthquakes
Hidden
Behind
Rotting voices

()
A beer coddling me
Swaying
This molecular addiction
Is a mouse trap I love
A hammock for replacement
Of a mannequin family

Do you sleep between those trees
Of arms bows holding essence insecurities
I’m my insecurities
I am These weakness that are Strength

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family’s just.
An empty word.
Evokes no meaning.

Just spelled letters.
Cursive cursed.
No meaning to me.

It makes me sad,
Other people have,
Something I cant stab at,
Real hugs when things go bad,

From some one you care about.

I lost my home.
When I was 5 years old.
Became complacent and detached.

From gene.
Sharing people.
Like.
My dad.

I was supposed to be.
like them.
Instead I'm the way.
I am.

Holding no golden fleece.
Just a mind with ideas.
Released to them.
No meaning.

Holiday days are the worst.
I cant hold their hands and for sure not my words.
The only time I feel anxieties with them.
They ask me how I am I ask them how they can't.

Feel, what, I, feel.

We aren't a family.
We are just guilt.
Guilt to love, people, you hate.

And go to their funerals, buy them presents,
And,
Bring flowers, to their graves.


But I don't want.

To love them now.

They forgot me growing up.

Now my homes burnt down.

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 just curl into a ball.
And freeze under the rafters.
I can't grab the words I need,
To release them between,
My teeth,
And stop sinking,
Below the frosted air on the ground.

The crown of my heads busted and broken,
Into fragments of love I'm reduced to splinters of glass.
I cut my throat with them to see if I hurt.
Idont.

I need to be bounded with leather.
Heart skin crocheted into "Another" heart.
Atrial to carotid,
Her hand to mine.
Just give me the digits of your finger,
And I'll give you the life of my voice.
In volumes of poem.

I still will be that little boy shivering, convulsing, and scared in the floor.
With block wings in the stone.
You will still be a life saver given to me as a cyanide pill
in my teeth.
Sides of the cheek.
Press.
Display death in my face.
Then be released with pain.
Needing no savior.
Only an outlet for talk.

I quit writing.
To quit writing is the concept.
The concept is happy.
Happiness is the end cause of the deceased.

Everything is gnawing like what you gnawed on last night,
Salmonella, Desdemona, E. coli', which plight.
Wanting to exhale yet holding on to breath,
diaphragms help gag and heave but no relief is let.

rib cage throat and mouth expand.
but nothing works quit like fingered hands.
sightly stroking epiglottil muscle.
tightly choking back the particles
.
to live to release
to mutually be
just go back to sleep
no time for sick bees

cant enjoy the flowers
while you sit in the honey.

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.

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

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

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

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

Minutia.

The growing immortality.

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.

Blank page
soon to be filled
with
all heart
needles in each cell
burning in all
muscles
sleep in all eyes
testament to having
all given up already
cliché
action of morbid
sadism
this place, *******
that place, worse
“Nothing will change when you get there.”
People don't.
Places don't.
High buildings,
they are not sails.
To distant lands
where everyone is in love
and time is perfect.

Instead.

It's gutters, toxic.
It's sewers, pollution.
It's ******, it's *****,
It's an emetic given ******,
as one force fed ****.
It's lonely.
It's alone.
It's time.
It's empty.



________________


­
It's loveless, callous, wrong, degenerate.
Empty,
empty,
empty, again and again.

No these buildings only
house the soulless vessels
of dead.

They are death.
The lights.
They are the city dying.
The skyline.

A skeleton.

Bleeding out
the last
blood in
it's marrow.

The City is dead.

I watch each of them eat
i watch each of them drink
i watch them all sink
i watch them sleep away
while walking,

zombie,
with the same placid easy
expression
ornamenting their face, handing chandelier face paint

a sconce on a wall i am
or in a chair
as they ensconce themselves into another job
another school another group

talk, about, important ****!
like a book
a clothes piece
a hair dye
clouds
universe
opening wide

revealing a void of absence
this makes me not closed
no closure

i want all their minds
to be present, i want

a
few people, around me.

they're stumbling off a plank of, mind, intellectual existence into

an ocean of jobs cars new ethics and things they wont get.
i'm trying to jump out of a swimming pool of truth,

out of,
existence.

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

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


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

We are the forest of the dead.
We are crimson willow trees.
We are weeping in the woods,
Hanging bodies like chandeliers

Leaves,
Crumble,
Deep in.
Humus,

Body becomes soil.
Bleeding the forest.

Cold
Wet

Moss undergrowth
Drag down the bones

The beetles form inside,
Leave larval forms behind,
Above our heads they swing,
The wind blows bleeding trees.

The machinery of death.

Brings the forest life,

From suicide.

This one time...I was real happy.

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

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

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

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

Waltz.