Do you remember when I put my
head in your lap, and you let the knife fall down?
I spent that year walking in circles with my hands out.

If you could find my azule ink
In the gullets of lack-long sun fish:
You would find a young woman at shore always letting out the string. Yet, sun is bleaching the cloth, sand, wood, skin and I don't think we would recognize any of ourself by the end of it.

People cannot tickle themselves,
perhaps needing fingers unfamiliar
to please them.



Charles ate a Rocky Mountain
oyster shell from the spleuchen
of a bee resting on a bed plate,
but then fell asleep.


Glandular curvulas search for
the meaning of life;
to **** and be ****** by the nerve centre.


Clooties of the Yellowstone national park
make regretful decisions, that lead to excessive
crying, and dry/wet heaving for
MTV'S SPRING BREAK BLAST:
The ending is on pp.22 featuring beam rays
telltale sign of stirless beaches and nights irritating
my irritatory sun causing me
to
fumble




from the letter shape of my family tree.
Quintessentially, but not really, reptilians smiled
to eat sour investment of  telltale
signs of testicular cancer,
while sending SMS messages to
acquaintances blabbering
"Come over and watch a movie ;)"
and gloating of recently acquired masseuse skills.

Cerberus
The temporary home that I
Occupy is guarded by Cerberus. Three
Pit bulls barking at the gate and jumping

On my chest with sharp claws, but this
idiot wasn't always here.
In early years walked in the evergreen

rain; listening to raindrops click on canvas
of a hood centimeters far from the head, and
when night would come, stare out in to

pinhole nights bargaining with god
on pain and boredom. “I swear if
you would give me a sign, I will do good.”

Then the crickets would laugh, while
The trees hissed their endless secrets, so
There was nothing found that day.

In this trailer, now, the water burns
My skin; bringing roses of blood to
The surface, and leaking



Out of my gums, so each night
I drink the wine to fill my belly
With ideas of T.S. Eliot, or Ginsberg,

But looking like a ******* quack, and
Crying to old songs that used to hold
Different meanings.

My mother lives inside the sea;
A million lost dust specks sinking
To the bottom of the trenches,

Swimming about sea creatures
And fish that glow in the
Endless darkness of the depths.

I thought so many times that I’d
Follower her there through the
River, and if you give me a sign

God, I will, but I keep snagging
Myself on the sage brush outside
The front door, and my legs

Grow heavier. When I go to sleep
Tonight I’ll fall asleep in mind that
My dog is resting in the landfill

On town’s end, and I've thought
That I could grab him there; maggots
Filling up the eye holes. If you give

Me a sign, God, I will. The
Fan flies over head, and the
Computer hums loudly for one second.

Insomnia
I wish so dearly that you could see my love for you
but it's stuck in my chest
and all I have to express this completion and warmth
that you give me
are symbols and sounds
triviality, symbols, sounds... Don't come close
To what is real, when you're near

The summer insects celebrate the coming
of seasons as I lay in my cot, and ponder
of how I hate the changing of weather
because It reminds me of how I'm dying
and I feel like a lonely magazine laying on a coffee table
in a deserted office, once all the tired peons have gone
to their restful homes
I sit, in darkness, immobile, yet waiting
for something unfathomable
I'm thinking
I wish so dearly that my love could see what I feel, but It's trapped in my chest
and these seasons passing drives me insane. I just remembered I'm dying.
Dying.
dying.
Sleep.

The springs of the trampoline
squeak to our movements, till we
fall dead on mesh.

I pulled off screen
to my window into undeveloped
darkness, and ran to you

after I heard you calling in my yard.
Home sounded like vents
and boom box hissing, and mother's

silent shoulder silhouetted
by some artificial glow.
I love you, shoulder,

and all the pages that I
put a finger to flip; under
the covers, covered in dark

where I adorn myself in cloths
to my coffin— too slow, then
come out wrinkled in the schoolyard

to get laughed at.
Here now, where I'm
sleeping in some friends

wardrobe, you called out
to me again, from a car
with tendrils of rain

streaking the glass,
but I didn't pull off any
screen. I didn't run anywhere
I just sat and sighed.

She lied in the unmade hotel bed,
in nothing but dark white underwear.
Dark-green black-out curtains,
with a slit in the middle, filtered

and framed the sorrowful light
of noontime; leaving a bar of sun
That made dust waltz in the musky air,  
and illuminating the small

Of the woman’s back and hips,
making the skin shine. Her husband
stood at the foot of the bed looking
in the mirror and glanced back at her

napping and she looked so harmless,
like a child− or an animal; like she had
never been hurt, or sunk her teeth in another.
Two nights before they fought about silverware,

and he watched a documentary on wildlife survival
in which a hunter strangled a rabbit to death,
and it made him wonder how it would feel
to hold the animal by the throat, while it

squirmed and cried for breath within the hand.
For some reason, He concluded it would feel
easier to smother someone to death with a pillow.
The couple decided to leave the city,

To pretend they had a fresh start,
from the fact that it had been a whole
season since they had last touched
the room came with bed made,

and complimentary soaps on the
counter.
when the woman got up,
they walked to the shore a block away.

The sun was turning red, and falling
below the feminine silhouette of the earth,
and the wind picked up moving the water,
like a mirror unfolding and dividing indefinitely.

The woman walked farther out on the gray
sand and told the man to take a picture of her,
the sun behind her illuminating each tendril of dead
skin flouting round her head like threads of dark wine.

She laughed, and the sound carried
out through the water and came back, like an
invisible
twin.

Later that night the man stood on the porch
smoking. The moon was rising and full.
He could hear the giggling of a young couple
room beyond the courtyard. They were

Skinny-dipping in the pool; the woman embraced
in the young man’s arms legs wrapped our his waist.
The old man suddenly felt warm, recalling his flash adolescence
in extinct lukewarm nights like this. A tinge of nostalgia
and regret that rose and fell for a second and then disappeared.

He then scoffed, threw the smoldering smoke off the porch,
walked back to his room, and slammed the door.

When the homes were wearing
The shroud of 4am, I was forgetting

The glass oracle that carries
All of our coffins to receding galaxies.

I was forgetting the woman wearing
Diamonds I saw last night, standing

Beyond the empty street that lead to the park
Naked, and coiling like a snake on top

Of the body of some so lonely looking man.
I was forgetting the way, I then imagined

How the spittle swelled on her tongue
To drip to the cement then beyond cement,

To the shifting clay under foot.
In shroud of 4:01am, I was forgetting

The sleep routine of my lover drudging
To the door to bolt, then stopping to look

Down at me, lost in the some snake skin
Husk of me; creating poems not to by eyed

By porcelain birds that shatter like
Wineglasses on the marble floor

Of my dream home.
In the light of 5:03am I woke

After forgetting how
The attractive force of earth

Has a hold on everything I got
To the roof, feeling the sharpness

Of sandpaper shingles, and stepped
Out, finally taken back by a conclusion,


When my body was grasped by gravity
And thrown to the gravel, breaking

Both ankles.

The lights of street

came in through the trees

as I breathes in so slow,

Trapped in in my mouth

please stop staring at me

Ask why I’m looking so low

.

I fall through the asphalt

in to the hands of the dirt

and come closer to something

that gives some sense of purpose

.

I’m lost

I’m lost

I’m lost

so lead me to the end of the dock

I’m lost

I’m lost

I’m lost

I believe in the future, but not in the one that I want

.

So how do I feel this way?

When I’m afraid of everything?

The way my chest wakes up and sings.

So how do I live

When I’m hiding under the sheets

The way my eyes still search for something

The clock near the doorway

you are a woman

I haven’t ruined yet

tender and wet

and so full of promise.

.

I saw you across the room

through the sound

and the chaos

quietly laughing

.

I saw your eyes

and they broke me

.

All the inifinity

you hold in your arms

.

Let me in,

and I always swear

I will never frown

.

I got up to reach for you,

but when I looked up

your coat was out the door

.

When I walked out the back

you were heading towards the trees edge

your sillouet seducing me

.

I keep thinking I can grab you, love

.

as I step on the the sod

your figure becomes distorted

.

but I remember,

your skin was wax and ***

and innocence

.

Your back is lulling me in to the abyss

but I do not care if I lose the house now

I need you

I embark towards infinity

I know evil when I see it

So when you arrive home

with smiles and promises

I want to expose your true form

and have the whole world scream in horror

and then puke in disgust

and it will all flood the streets

and we will be swept away in filth

praying to our gods that we can only be okay

But for now,

No one sees your poison.

It is nice to have you home.

I didn't catch you shimmy the unwinding

Stair case of being,

to meet with the future me, dead cats,

And lost family.

You could still be panting on the rug,

And smiling like someone lost in puppy love.

You are a friend who,

Moved to,

The neighboring town.

Where I miss you, but hope that

You are happier where you are.

Lost in endless socks and resolve.

I still remember.

Here or not.

I still love you.

I’ve been pulling words
From me like splinters from my palm,
With razor in hand
Peeling back dead skin to show the articulations,
And it feels like I’m losing myself when I take it out.
Each bit of language splatting on linoleum floors in front of a cackling audience.
I didn’t want you to hear this.
I don’t think I can say it. I think I’ll go home.
I’m losing steam through my mouth and moving nowhere
I don’t have any answers, unimportant questions to ******* peers
And I’m going in circles with them, and with myself.

Last month I tried to write a poem about childhood
When I lived in that house in the woods by the lake
I can think of the pictures but I can’t get them together
There were times when I walked in the rain to school,
And there were times when I told my mom “I wish I wasn’t born” because I had to go to sleep at 9:30pm but,
I keep thinking of the last time I saw my mom,
She was looking much weaker
And the doctors gave her morphine for the pain
Sleeping in the hospital bed
In the living room in which I grew up.
It didn’t seem real.
I was too shocked to speak
My only resolve to everything,
"That's life"
But that is life.
I don't need to narrate the hole in my throat.
Doesn't the soliloquy sound like a
Crying baby?
I am the melodramatic Hamlet crying for you now.
Don’t look at me.

I’m running circles on ***** laundry.

Here I find myself in grandpa’s new flat in Vancouver
Speaking in high English and making black Tea, He said
“It's always good to have company when I fear the world’s forgetting me”
The last time we made the trip, your wife saw naked apparitions on the roof
And fed the poodle chocolate and cheerios
Steaming like a chimney leaving
Smoke inside the bed linen,
But last year she had to leave
As her lost lover and world
Backtracked through the cavities in her fermented mind


For this, he sits in his arm chair by the home phone
Reading the newspaper with a seeing glass
Always waiting.
I like to think he doesn't dwell on the truth
But I can guess where he goes
When I hear old records play from his room

The day before, we visited Grandma Joyce in the ward
Where zombies wheeze and shuffle worn feet on the floor
She was displayed in her bed
In cold sterile light
Forgetting her blood and forgetting her sight

Her lips clacked open and squeaked,
“All these nice people came to see me
All these nice people came to see me
They stand in my room at night
And murmur like a chorus.
I think they want to **** me
And feast upon my dreams”
Lost, Lost and rambling, but
The guards confess that there are moments of clarity
Where she hurls her frame off the fence in twilight chanting “I need to go home”.

As the trip came to a close,
There was nothing we could do
Grandma has lost herself in the sepulcher or existence and
Her husband waiting for a resolve
He walked us to the lift and wailed like a baby to his child
“Just stay for me a bit longer, and make sure to come back.”
“We will be back soon.”
The door shifted and rang
And slowly shut faithful eyes that were never seen again

A Failed Attempt at Baptism

Before my mattress devours me and I am swept below
This feeling clouds the air
The stains have turned into a web so thick
That if I try to find the origin
It only rouses rats in my head
And they’re always starving
So I lie to myself and think, if I could just find the beginning

When I was hairless and dumb
I would lie in the breeze of the hot fan
Wet from sweat and smelling like *****
Lost in some world that I chose
Oblivious and blissful

I wish I could be that simple
But it hasn’t been since I woke
And it gets harder each time,
Standing with eyes strapped open and screaming
God set my mom’s hair on fire, and blood suckers
Driving up and down the road to check if I’m still home

It makes me wish I could be there now
I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to me
I open the book, but the words aren’t real

I see married men
Who sit in old arm chairs
Without a word to say
And defeat is written on their faces
For them, all white flags have sailed
And their consolation prize is a television
And vampire children that laugh like imps
I see time unfolding
I see lovers forgotten
I see the way you pull down your coat sleeve
I see elbows rubbing
I see the smoke in the air
I see my father and twenty others
Plunged in to the lake
Trying to make whiteboards clean

We are all making do
With what we have and what we’ve been
I took my shadow to the port
And tried drowning him in the sea
But as far as I walked into the water
It never crept past my knees

I want to die with blood still in me
Putting garlic over my front door
And holding tight to mementos
Of the lives I once lived
Letters from those who once loved me
Resting in my dresser
Boxes flooding the basement
Holding teddy bears and trophies
And my dying dog wheezing on the floor

Uncomfortably, in the room of my best friend
while he nuzzles with his lover in bed
while I wait in my thoughts like,
a cold glacier below the veneer of the sea.
My back hurts.
I try counting down from one hundred and clearing it out.
But old projectors play from behind my eyelids
playing mirror images of horror films I wish I hadn't seen
I lost someone that I loved to sickness and I couldn't accept it.
It didn't feel like I thought it would.
I feel this numbness crawling me, and it's getting colder
Freezing over

There is a song whispering on the stereo,
that’s on the blank tile a few feet from me
Full of so much joy and life,
that seems to elude me
I wish I could rip the benevolent sound from the air
And consume it, and let it fill up every void
That is left in this soul in which I believe in,
Less and less
Day by day
As fate sunders me slowly
Like the song is lulling me now into darkness
Second by second

Wind blowing through white washed catacombs
And I keep trudging in the sharp shot chill
Classrooms, Occupations, all fallow wombs
Glutton for life, your heart never fills

Why? They fashioned our dreams in to chains
Toiling in the belly of the citadel
Chuck your body in the pit, fuel the flame
We were all dead silent in Moloch’s spell

Where? Is there no way to leave this ache?
Though some men have escaped to death
Broken backs; sour hearts, does it mend or break?
When we leave them behind, we may find rest

Your pain is your pride; your pride is your pain
You collapse in to the churning pit; again

Purgatory

Your voice I swear,
Is a frayed and rusty knife
That you use to peel and slice my eyes
with sadistic *******.
I'm sitting in a car with you as the night
drops blue on the earth.
I am but an empty vessel
While you fill me with quiet shame
as I sit,
your voice drills deep in my ears
and I want this moment to end
as quickly as my life will end someday,
but it won't
Moments like this are eternal.
Hell is eternal.
Swan dive your arms
with cold precision
in the depths of my mind
into the catacombs of my stomach
and steal the breath from me
But, we both took our trite words of fondness
And drowned them in the kitchen sink
Getting bits of you stuck under my fingernails.
I am a well, holding my grief deep below.

I hear your final judgment
In the car parked by the lake
as we are held in purgatory,
searching for a way out
trying to untie this knot
but it gets tighter the more I pull
until there is nowhere to go
and we leave it there
tangled and worthless.

I think I’m starting to figure it out
Like my thoughts about the future
Starting to melt
Like asphalt snow on roadsides are starting to melt
I am finally getting better
I found my way out

For four years I wallowed in your
Bereavement like this was something
That could make me better
But it’s losing meaning now
I think I’m getting better
I think I found my way out

The way my grandfather
Got that place in the forest
And how I can still see him there,
Every time I come around
Tricking the gods
And their pact of suffering
In which you hoped to evade
Thinking to himself of how he
Lived through life alone, and
He can leave it on his own terms
And when I have to leave
I will decide
The gun on the table
Near the alarm clock

One night after drinking he stumbled back home
Thinking of God, and how he could make such a world
Like ants in the glass where he laughs and he laughs
At his lost wife and his family and the things that he lacks
And the version gets blurry as he walks up the steps
And he bursts in the room panting last breaths
He holds the gun firmly and feeling its weight
Puts it up to his head and finally he isn’t afraid
He feels so clever in his way of escape
The trap of the creator in which he evade
And closed his eyes and then..
Left

His blood is still running in me.
I think I’m getting better.
I think I found my way out.
I think I’m getting better.
I think I found my way out.

This poem was written
For you, in the key of F#,
At a persistent tempo of 160bpm.

So, will you bring the timpani,
And sousaphone out from the
Back of this page, and let the

Brass roar at forte. It’s a glorious
Sound despite the clumsy trombone
Sliding off key; that my shaky hand trying to

Get it down right this time. The
Notes are there, and the feeling is
There, but it takes a lot to get it right,

And for one second we will feel the
Same thing in unison. I fear sometimes
My eye has surpassed my hand.

This poem was written with the passion
Of half drunken midnight karaoke in a
Bay Area China Town, but the audience still claps for the effort.

This poem was a song transposed for
The coyote barbershop quartets, to
Sing me awake at night.

This poem was written, because
I don’t want to love you anymore,
And I’m trying to love us, in all

Our beautiful discord, and for
The one time in a thousand where
The notes fall in to place,

As the wind instruments hum
And the choir sings at fortissimo
And for one second you hear what
I've been trying to get out, like a bad singer
Finally hitting the right note, we will feel the
Same thing at once, and our minds swing
Together in time.

What is I or me?
a brain in skull,
assumed human being?
What will define the shape
of my soul, in the realm of
things presumed and foul?

Am I beast to gnaw at bone
and meat?
Am I the moss of rocks near streets.
Where peasants shuffle of their feet
to catch the trail to the furnace
to be consumed by flames to be eaten.

I see the the ground open up
and show the dark beneath
then open my eyes
I see the sea of body passing
under the ship below me
then open my eyes
I see seven ghost on bed sides
then open my eyes
a bed in a plain white room,
with an old picture of you
painted in black and blue
and the deer lick the windows
trying to get in,
and chew on my hollow bones

just as real as the worlds
I spend my time
What will define the shape
of my soul, in the realm of
gods presumed,
and animals foul.
No answers to my questions,
and the moss grows on my head.

I’m not dead yet
Is the only thought clicking in my mind
like the morning’s sprinklers chattering out my window
I’m trying to sleep
and how I think
"I need a warm body to share these sheets"
but It’s already hot
and I took all my clothes off
So I just laugh at the funny thought

Tender and sore
I let fingertips in to **** my sides
Now my flesh is on the floor
.
A girl embraces her lover
and says I’m so glad that you are home
I watch and think this is what love is from the outside
.
I felt cold as you whisper your breeze on my ear
as your shoulder turns to winter
nights shrink to and four o'clock
This is what I’ll feel, with you at my side
.
Tender and sore
I let fingertips in to **** my sides
Now my skin is on the floor
So don’t stab my gut
Don’t wake me up
.
I let my feet
lull me to sleep
on the street
I need space to think
so don’t come in
there is no heat
in here
or in anything
that has touched my feet
.
Reserved and bored
my fingers touch your pride
Your clothes on the boards
Please wake me up
Please wake me up

I know evil when I see it
So when you arrive home
with smiles and promises
I want to expose your true form
and have the whole world scream in horror
and then puke in disgust
and it will all flood the streets
and we will be swept away in filth
praying to our gods that we can only be okay some day
But for now,
No one sees your poison.
It is nice to have you home.

Frigid lip dragged over mine
I’m drinking straight from the fountain
and it tasted like greenery
.
Dragged across my face
a horizontal line to my ear
and I hear the ocean humming
it sounded like a song
I used to hear on the piano
.
We coil like shadows in the dark
that fumble for feeling
naked and exposed
tender and starved
It felt ravenous
and urgent
.
Laying on an altar
strewn out in shambles
stabbing to sleep
it felt like ******
it felt beautiful

If I didn't see climb the unwinding
Stair case of being.
To meet with the future me, and my old cats
And lost family.
You could still be panting on the rug,
And smiling like someone lost in puppy love.
You are a friend who,
Moved to,
The neighboring town.
Where I miss you, but hope that
You are happier where you are.
Lost in endless socks and resolve.
I still remember.
Here or not.
I still love you.
All the scribble lead to just that,
no end and no beginning
resolveless in this feeling
You're still dead.

Cold and ******
Dark and Damp
I want to be a cave dweller
growing claws from the top my hands
.
I see I am not much of a man
hide from the rocks up above
buried my head deep in the sand
.
I know that I could be something
If I could only come to the surface
but the truth is that the sun makes me sick
.
I know that I could be something
If I just came out of hiding
but I don’t like this place
.
I am the product of my own misanthropy
and my spite I hold on to stronger than anything
.
I see I am not much of a man
I’d rather hide in shadows
and watch the world shift like sand
.
I know that I could be something
If I could only come to the surface
but the ants on the earth make me sick

Stewing in false hopelessness
I’m a nobody
killing nothing but time
.
Lay out all of my scars
and put them to the light
.
I am no better than you
spitting venom,
cutting my ties
.
I do it like a ghost
in the house that I reside
and no one hears me
.
Staring out the window each
time I wake up in the..
.
Birth a place for myself to live
it’s dark
and deer peer through the window
in silence
.
I look like a silhouette
and sound like a draft
as I fall in your mouth

So, you said "I love you"
but it was all so tongue in cheek

Like,  what a silly concept
to feel that way about someone
especially before *******

I suppose that's true,



for you

Too many people out there
have floods of fire and gloom imploding their brains
but replace the voids with Kim Kardashian's perfect ***

So in fear of seeming awkward or strange
tentatively we may love each-other

"I suppose we'll hang out soon, right?"

Totally.

So much time and paper wasted

with tragic words of dark nights alone and hopeless

Perhaps because I thought that truth lied in despair

but in every dark place there is a pin hole in the wall

that shows the other side


In Endless summers

where I could live in between each day

with nothing existing

while adults that have been sundered down by the world sleep

as I was living more than they could ever imagine

Swimming in the my own perception,

and my own sweet and sour smell

I mean, I don’t need to shower anyways

I don’t plan on seeing any one, luckily(probably for them)


When am with my brothers

and curse every hollow persona

curse every hollow way

and if i’m lucky

I can see a liberation from maturity

for we are all children bound by our future selves

trying to be, something

not trying to be, Happy

And all I have to say to that is **** IT

Break every self percieving mirror

that keeps us looking at our own actions and question if we are doing the right thing?

Walk through a forest in winter,

to find adventure and love

**** at in elementary school yard

Because we couldn’t care less about what the girls say

And **** like the god ****** dog we all are

because there isn’t much joy in anything else.


For this is the only way you can escape

the adult that holds us down

and chokes the life out of us

and eventually makes us worn

and broken

and lost..

falling asleep at 8:30pm,

as 17 year old children are waking up to have fun again.

The car is drifting

On an endless black line,

a dot in the sky

projects it’s feeling on me, empty

A white blank sheet

All veils are pulled off of the windows

While the world is darkly dreaming

and every hole in my life is illuminated

This is truth

This is a void

This is night

This is time for rest

But I just drift timelessly forever thinking of all that should be and all that I’m capable of,

But  I stay in place.

All of these motions and anguish, yet I am laboring, immobile.

Achieving greatness, and wishing for more

I’m drunk off greed, and the world is only telling me to go back and get some more.

No one is going to ******* stop me, and I’m not sure if i should

and all I can do is question if I will ever arrive at my destination

drifting to my destination,

at sea as I swim to the light



My beliefs are destroying me

for I strive for immortality

when I need to lay low

in disgusting serenity

and breathe

But what is noble?

Apparently it isn’t rest

I’m standing in a windstorm filled with misery

With my mouth snapped shut

But aren’t we all?

But aren’t we all?

I tell myself, Life is just perception

perhaps I need some thicker eyelids

before my hands break

I’m sprawled alone on the floor

Uncomfortably

And I’m a navy object down down below the veneer of the sea

Thinking of all the things I have seen..

And wish I hadn’t

Behind the curtains; In the dark

As the spectators see nothing

because they cannot see beyond the play

because it keeps them from looking farther

But I have, unfortunately

The day we handed you over to God

All alone, in silence

and I’m tormented

There is a song whispering on the stereo

full of so much love and joy

I wish I could rip the benevolent sound from the air

and consume it, and let it fill up every void

that is left in my soul, because I feel it

less and less

day by day

as fate sunders me slowly

like the song is lulling me now to darkness

And although I try to inhale the spirit of the song, Nothing changes

I’m still the color of this empty night

A time that might as well not have happened

I am the deepest ocean as the song plays indifferently