the cloggers and their' share of dignified dirt,

t'nite, attach the ravens favorite food

and it comes it like species to sugar

to open water

another life pass me by....

straight hol on... hay hol on


another bringer brought me wine

stay hole on, lay hole on

toonother light in my fire, my vigor..


tonoona hole on, stray and jaygalangee

el saint bee kay and koo


did u figure ettt???


La Bee Gah Tay Qoe When????
YAH YAH YAH

I've encountered cruelty from others' that has caused me pain


usually surrounding something I did, something I said,

I wish that I was better at navigating the signs, what to do--- what not to do....

sometimes blinking your eyes too many times means insecurity, or dehydration, or irritation

sometimes you choose an article of clothing that disagrees with another' sense of security in this cruel life

sometimes its just your hair, or your stupid face

I don't know...I wish this would be resolved.  I have.


a deep, unrelenting desire to touch everyone, to see everyone

maybe it's sick.... maybe I am a hedonist

subscribe to masochism

sympathize with the devil, or the executive, or the wrong crowd, the right crowd- conformist

pretend edgy warrior with a cannabis sword...a vocal sword

I wish that I could give people flowers...I would earnestly enjoy that.

however, I know the repercussions may be overwhelming...

flowers... why not orchids?  flowers???  why not strawberries.   Flowers?   why not dinero, dab loons... that what I need

I don't know...

I want to know every error within myself and fix it, like its a plumbing system or a series of strings that creates a harp

perhaps if they were flawless, then everyone would just love me


I would be complete, there would be no harsh realities, or painful rejection

if only, if only if only

temptation arises out of every little shower head nozzle, they seep and they search and they cloak my body


I hardly move, I harly care if it is hot, if it is cold


it’s as if the forks squeak indefinitely but the feet are handcrafted and dropping E minor on a D and calling it’s square even, female singer, butler drummer

or more like a metal rod from a factory that has somehow made it’s way into a tether ball poll, one of the ones that stands for a hundred years until a desperate housewife calls it *****- and (they replace it with a post modern neck breaking device)


I feel humbled by the stony clay that surrounds my chest and enters my fingertips



and the razors on my lips turn up at tv channels I simply detest

will this engine cease?


sometimes I wish it would

so here I am, fantasizing about tapping howard stern on the nuts swiftly with my boot

when I realize, it is four in the morning, and that's the hour between hours,

it's not three, three...you go to sleep and its fine

five... you say i'll just stay up and greet the dawn, why not?

four the one, the hour, things make sense at this hour, its strange

the audition  is a....football throw through a touchdown post covered by fog and faces of loved ones

and the white room extends, there are no ultimatums, and there is just listless eternal non existence- as in....existing

and, I don't blame anyone, I have a few things that are okay..

I wish for more... I yearn for something that I cannot have

and seedlessly jaded with hot coffeee

I'll be alright

my room is supported by tons of concrete, metal, a bit of wood and insulation.  In my chamber, theres an odious and embarassing dispaly of empty bottles, beer and wine bottles... casino bycycle cards for good measure, untouched pringles... and varios other comforts and pleasures.  

Adjacent to the counter stands an enormous concrete support beam, almost invisible with its cream stucco finish.  almost a place to put your hand while you are stretching, instead.  

My back feels stiff beaucause I danced too much, and what I really want is to feel something so comulsurary and veiny and terrible that I feel lucid with liberyy and pride.  These kinds of feelings, one has to look for them.  They aren't on the streets, there in some sort of sweat dream found when fixing something in the microwave or standing in the correct corner of the space, turniing on the floor lamp just so.  

I need to find it.  I must find it...

always trying to prove something, to neself, to the universe,

to the person down the street

ehh purple hair and fractional tennis *****, then

lead the plastic barriers,

remember the number

ohh saintly hell, I feel like the callous on my feet are even stronger than last month, and this walk is jazzy

so I go about proving the gods, or some diety, that this is, infact, tanglible...artifact to be exact

proving it to the widow who fancies the conversation more than the content,

proving it to pine needles who know they willl fall in two, three days, anyway


prove it to myself, and my toes, and my eyeballs

red flesh and bolstered blood,

can I have a candybar for sixpence from the richardsome magician in the sky?

no, he is occiupid with tobacco candy and the home baseman is comalainging about his peanut pickings


If only I was a kite, then fate would truely be out of my hands, and there wouldn't be any more reason to feel proud,

perhaps tied to a tree for an eternity, perhaps confused bewtee the medeterranean sea and south africa,


who could i be?