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.

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.

Stomping yourself in denim sadness

Stomping trudging
Breaking bones
A mire of tar in our lungs seeps

Cutting the circulation
Between reality
A mountain of mole hills engulfs us


Our reflections in these SHARDS
Detach trauma from our hearts
A PACE MAKER OF ANGUISH

This ataxic syncopation
reality and viral vision
A pace maker of anguish

Laying in this ***** den
Of bankruptcy
Our place isn't forgiveness

It's not something we can earn or
Give
People are not your objects

Denim Jean's
Sadness
A beat stomped from existance
Rythm
Dies
A beat stomped from existence

Existance
Is putrid
I smell it
On your breath
Existance
Is anguish
This prison
Of brain meat
Existance
Beautiful
Without me
I'll miss it

Obsidian shoes
And diamond armor

Won't protect me

A mind of gold and
heart like a watch

Won't carry the breath beat of the cities


I have a death inside me
A rotting corpse
An Identical being
stomach's retching remorse
strapped to this dead body
I'm carrying in my heart
A symbiote child
Sewn to the dark

Help me drive a stake through
Myself
Help me release all I thought I was

All the pain guilt and anguish I am


All that has defined me from my wrongs

Shattered grave
Of .a .life .loved.
Then lost

Brain weighs
Of. atlas
burdened shoulders

Dig through. The bones and marrow
Poison thoughts. digging scars in your arms

Follow through.
The. graves.
Suc.cu.bus. tongue

Seduction From
a bed of self slaughter

Tears dried
You aren't for crying

Blood dripped
Won't fix this cough


From your lungs

No way back
From this forest
My neurons have phantom limbs
These ents have me helpless




Impaled
On.my.own.thoughts.
Heavy

These patterns
These crushing crutches


Our spectres crawl
On the floor
This cabin

Is a hell
Stuck in
A ghost dance of

Scarecrows
With gaped throats
Saw teeth
Stuck in our smiles


We ruin
Everything
We destroy
Everything
We collapse
Every *****.             The trade off part
The piano keys
We have broken

Released
Through stitches bursting
The straws out
Our metal hearts rusting

Hurt our selves
Hurt each other
Burdens of
Guilt becomes us.    
Figments
Of destroyed fragments
Of released
haunting patterns

Scarecrows
With gaped throats
Saw teeth
Stuck in our smiles
Lacerated trees
sap beings
Filled with ghost
This suicide

Wind blown trees
We corpse and Rot in
the basement
Of ruined dreams
Degrading forever
No molecules left
the elements Remnants
All that there is

lead weights
Thrown over the levee

My eyes
Pick apart my failures

Nothing will
Ever fix our broken hearts

Quilted the loss
Into a patch making sense


Death
systems
Cadavered
systems

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!

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.

I put a baby inside
Of the belly of my Bonney lass bride
Twice
Say the ****** covered by placenta
Looking through her *** to deaths eye
She may live he may die
He may live I'll lose my wife
Through the cream pie I stare down death
Between her ***** holds hemorrhage and life

Bleeding down her c-section

The acreted blood sac could cause infection
Already has
My baby gave multiple blood poisoned hits to her kidney

He's already a fighter I think he'll beat me up. He's going to come out with bigger boots than mine, prolly a bigger ****.

Hope they both make it.
I can't fix it
My hands are tied in the cervical opening, my minds wrapped in the emboli cal cord, and my fingers are twiddling thumbs nauseously in Beccas ******.

I should take Lornhes place in the amniotic fluid and gag myself in the fetal position


Or I could do what no one does these days.
Be a man of character.
Show him passion, knowledge, courage, and integrity.


Be a Father.

P.S. Son. All dads are letdowns, when you read this one day. I hope I have done my best. I Love You.

                                  Lendon Partain

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

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

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

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

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

I'm driving miles, counting smiles, in the aisles, of the road.
In the forms of cracks, dips, and traps, where millions have drove.

I'm crouching, pouncing, dipping, dodging, frothing, lunging, from this load.
The grief strikes nails, through pails, that hold my appetites trails.

As it falls like sand, through the tin, of the can receptacle of this man.
This stomachs a trick as the food softly slips through nicks in the net of the canvas of this bed

I cannot eat,
Sleep,
Feed,
Or drink.

I cannot want,
Gain,
Deflect,
The pain

My hungers a mountain i cannot climb,
Now its a grave i dig named "mine"
I own up to my own grief, its the chief of my beliefs.
Hold my throat to the sheers, cut close to veins my dear.
For i deserve where i lay, in the streets, or in the bay,
And my death will be on loan, i will own up to these bones.
I have created this devil in my eyes.
The mirror death mirage.

I shouldn't open up my cage
And let my voice out.

Sit down, throw up, pass out,
In your own *****,
Dying,
And no body cares.

Pat your, self on,
The back,
Hold back your head,
Crying,
Spit in your hair.

The drunkards death for me,
Slow and easy,
Destructed and lonely,
One apartment. Dead.

Fly friends circling waiting to eat me.
Smelling of failure in every *****.
Bot corpse now housed ****** and drowned in the thrones organs.
Bloated and filled with tears from family.

My life's,
A toilet,
Bowels are,
Disposed in,
Crippled,
Defeated in pain.

Wash up,
Clean out,
Help him,
See that,
Faceless,
Empty death bed.

The party is over.
The funeral was without visitors.
Like a guy that kills himself,
To spite his ex girlfriend.

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.

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.

Tonight I was *****.
I got persuaded by a ten year old boy,
A boy of 6,
Into doing "things".

His supple boy skin,
Mine suppler not even sun kissed,
yet kissing ****.

Tonight. I'm 24.
I hurt from every pore,
As my breathing shallows.

I tried *******, only a taste.
I ate a pin ***** size morsel.
Throat closed, anaphylaxis.
The praxis of finding out, through rashes of histamine.

Every time I shower.
I played in the mud.
Doesn't wash off.
Guilt.

Oh man, how my grandma used to try.
Scrub me.
I'd scrub just as hard,
Till raw in  my arms.

Every evening.
I lay in bed.
contemplate things.
Look at what has happened.
I see him again.
I cry,
I weep,
I spit,
Oh curses.

Can't change it.
Can't take my mouth off his ****.
You know. The good stuff.

Bein' a kid is hard...
Bein' adult that was once a kid is harder'

You know. They used to put us in prison.

Line us up in rows, make us do LOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG division.

Walk in a straight line. Hold your inmates hand.

I used to work the problems backwards,
The teachers would get mad at me,
Make me work at their desk,
Knew i must be cheating,
Made me teach class,

I never grew up from that.

I used to think that this happy trail led to a ******,
Once closed up.
I thought I was gay.

Now...I just know that.















Well happy trails aren't always happy.
At least mines finally growing hair.

Writing from calm
placidity.
Calm, blankness, stark.

Perpetuate it
maintain,
always want this

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

Staple,
Stand still.

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

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

still.

It's not even a big feat.
Me.
drinking 10 beer.
Of a 30 pack
It's the fact.
.
It's me
Non-apparent.
So sober in contemplation, sooooooo ******* righteous, so destructive, so christian without Christ

This look I addle towards,
This beauty.

Woman.
You should be model.
The correct car for the correct task
Whats your task again>

Txt slam rocket riot.
Parsley beige maudlin clay

comparison persimmon detailed dilutant of non-vexing
what the **** complication

If one day. We are pregnant.
So is You.
So is I.
We are Pregnant.

Proper nouns, like baby tummy bu...t
Different.

You, think You. Have stretch marks.
Heh.

Abort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were used.

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.

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

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

Hiding in your basement.

Need supplants want, except when you die from want and need keeps you wanting death.


Wants have always cost less than needs in this america. then they tell you its your fault as they build your stumbling block.

Cut divine
**** divide

life box cut out sides.

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'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.

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I still exist.

even when im ******* dead
Im ******* dead

I still exist inside your head
a rust can
a dust bucket
fickle men

divide by death
and exist in heart
******* eyes
blinded by the last resort

behead the nerves of will and ghost

sake fined by the
keepers
gross
exhaustion of mortality

You are poetry to me.
A muse.
Devil.
Angel.
Saviour.

You’re also my stomachs insides.
A regurgetant,
Sitting in the bowels of a rusted oil tank.
I take on more.
I threw it up.
On, to dead wood.

Dried.

You look like graphite now,
Your pale skin turned to,
A grey wisp,
Of illegible stress and fumble.

You’re poetry now,
As I’m done.

As I try to spit all of you up from inside me.
It won't work.

Poetry,
Is, like,
Cancer.

You're growing the size of
a melon in my
innards
turning my blood into
coal, or ink, or marker
or dye,

You are poetry
And cancer, and *****.
And.
I cant separate from you.

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.

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

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

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

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

On swingsets/marygorounds.

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

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

or like drunk.

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

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

The poems never come out right anyways.

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

They took my car, took my life, took my family, my designs
I lay here in this cell cold wells of **** and grey
slain in the lines of jail walls for changing hearts for minds.
The disgust they feel for the thinking
living breathing brain.
It is not enough for them to stifle and trifle fill with pain
filled to the brim with destruction and cephalic carnage.
But to truly constrict, choke the spirit.
The ether we breathe out on this frigid floor is the final gasp of a deathbed king.

I wait and wait for the hours that are days
the infinite of vindication for crimes i couldn't have committed.
This nation entrenches with a smell stench that wrenches
the guts of each pure male in each section of conviction


I smell baby wipe


I hold truths that could break these walls.
I clasp understanding that enfolds all beauty
I exude magnanimity that engulfs eyes.
And my passion is the water to put out their evil witch hunt pyres

Do you people know.
How much this **** gets real?
Do you know how it makes my heart drop?
Throw-up.
So many Amore chunks.

You ever hung a persons tongue from a wire hanger?
Then let them convulse.
I'm about to do that on my nickel wound stirngs, I'll never stop having a pulse.
I got the only pulse.

Iv'e destroyed every vein in my body with notes of
putrefying chaos beauty.

SCREAM. SHRIEK!

The jazz tones palpitate my tongue,
chatter my teeth,
destruct my *****.
The ones in my feet

Like drugs
only positive
motive based
rather than sordid.

All things are bruises
if you look hard enough
symphony of colorful E's.
positive, negativity.

Skram, ,Dock, Cross, Plot.
Rotatilled rows of pounding chest, human humanity.

The epic of chimpanzee.

Never understanding.
Being alone.
I will never be anyone else
Anonymous
I atone.

i wish i could make all my i's lowercase.

Freeverse, with a dial tone,

Trying to call out to every person by undeniable tension and catharsis
like rigor mortis death ligaments,
such purposeful
pretty

I believe every single woman/man
creating this. This
means more to my spirit.
than being sad.