Icy burn, an ache
both dull
and knife point.
Am I going
insane?

Cervical, thoracic,
lumbar, and sacral
tension, or
is it
elasticity?
Am I going
crazy?

Dark days, I try to run
away from myself,
just to sniff in circles,
distracted, burning
daylight.

Good days, I practice
all the basic moves
a mixture
of modern living
and disregard
made me forget.

Guess I'm pretty broken.
Isn't the concept of
properly aligned
posture fun?

Shore up,
sure enough,
I'm coming for that ***.

Distress
gonna rest,
I'm coming for the soak.

That ***,
bare, backed up,
and we're coughing up smoke.

Always coughing smoke.
Always on the soak.

Everyone says that
I should search for happiness.
Happiness doesn't interest me,
isn't interesting.

Everyone says that
I'm wasting my time on Earth,
dropping the dirt on myself in
my digging to hell.

Well what the **** would I do
with a satisfied desire?
I'll not be sated to meet Satan,
but to take the dour throne!

Feed me!
Offer up a
hidden danger
of a love.
Feed me pain.
That I may
offer up. . .
substance.

Oh me, oh my,
I hate to sound trite,
but I guess in the end
we all die, so
turns out to be true
whatever way.

Oh me, oh my,
I hate to sound trite,
but I could really use
a lullaby.

Great Papa, he left.
Great Mama, so close.
Mama, in the deep end.
Sister, she ghost.

What's love got to do with it?
It just so happens, in my world it's all.
I am conditioned to serve in the name.
No matter how hard servants seek servants,
the wardens and the masters pick up on the scent,
come running over the distant hills to close in on the ****.

I am conditioned to serve in the name.
Here they come running to stake their claim.

Leave the inner world
for the world outside the walls,
procure supplies,
then, return again.
That's the plan, Stan.

Feet meet cement block.
You remember the last time
we took this walk?
As well as I do.

Insert a line I've used before,
commenting on the violet hues
of parting suns, painting the
skies above us as we go for bread.

Instead of hidden knives,
I pull a hand and offer it
as we cross the overpass.
If you're scared in day,
you're terrified at night.

Without a pause, you're reaching out,
grasping for a comfort, now.
Easy, is it? I'll bet it is.

If life has taught me anything,
the most important change
is that I learn to zip my mouth.

Joy equates to nothing more
than what others see in store,
and go on to demand of me.

Lamb's Bread from The CDC
replaces intensity
I've lost to love, with smoke.

Light it up, and let it go.

I love the scratch and sniff.
I love the body whiff.
I love the ****** and smash.
I love the mind crash.

Such a sweet and salty face.
What a beautiful place.
Single wide, double or?
What future sits in store?

None for me?
None for you?
Look at us.
Look at you.

Apache beard.
A. Patch. iieh.
Nn, so desu ne.
Butter bean.

Cream white dream.
But sorta pink.

A bird in the twilight hues lands on the
angry twist of a barb on a cyclone fence.
It's flown high above and capable of
capturing sights far beyond me.
Watch it still support its life over death
with no weapon but legs.
It might catch the wind at any second
with wing beating hard for its escape.
A thought crosses my mind
that it must be common for those
with the means to come
scratching their wrists to relinquish
their privilege and tongue
with the spear face to face.

Desperate
**** air in
To my lung
Green roast
Ghost it real
Quick after
Mastered
The art of
Becoming
Her highness
Incarnate

It's not enough to be sharp, is it?
I launch my heart
at the walls of the crumbling world,
a thought in it, but,
your heart is despondent, isn't it?

Move your mouth you failing ****.
You glued the glass to the wall, as well,
so you can't stop, can you?

Sell it as it is. Nothing makes sense.
Seeming like a thing you've seen
once or twice before in your life?

just a little bit more, i said
looking at myself in health
but wonder now is it wealth
if the utter dregs
living now, too, never dead
living with no overhead
1:1 butter bread, just a little more
then i can ******* afford
that little bit more affordable
life extension business
which is it then, idiot,
social suicide or death by
getting left behind?
survival of the fittest? ****
then, i'm unfit as ****, cheap,
fit to ****, fit to ******, ****** fist
visions or is it not a dream?
deep as deep in the joke gets

Guillotine, guillotine
Metal in the sunshine gleam
Touching with the dirt
Touching toes with the folk

I'm a bird, I guess
Gluttony
but with wings!

I'm ascended, I suppose
All alone
no one

to tell me if I'm wrong!

Guillotine, guillotine
Metal in the sunshine gleam
Touching with the dirt
Touching toes with the folk

It's my joke on you
Ascended
from your things!

All alone no
one

to tell me if I'm wrong!

he took a cialis pill,
disappeared that day
4. destroy
nothing much to lose
nothing here to save

In the process of showing, the veil wears thin
Tell me, is it easy to see the fear in me behind the wheel?
I've never known it to be as layers inside a Nolan dream
As for me and what I think, it's much less a fall
More of an untethered float
Where you can spin and you can twist so beautifully
Make movements so behemoth
You would make mountains proud
But mountains are invisible so far out in space
The movements you travel to make will make you stronger
The better current version of you
But people want to know how good they look
Through your eyes from where you stand
Half the matter in the end is that they'll never know
Secretly to them, we're hurt they're never curious.
Curious, what's that?

No sooner than my ankles and arches
absorb the reentry shock
My toes push off
Time to disconnect

I want to live, but
I want to crawl inside my past.
Personal history
will set me free at last,
regardless of what burns my tongue
as if it's on the cusp of being said.
If I find my womb again, well,
good enough for me, I guess,
that I will have won.

I want to live!
I want to crawl inside my mind.
I haven't found dogs that write scripture
for all that I've searched.
While I realize it could be,
I ask myself, "How long will you toil
in the name of agency
all to find
someone to take your shame
and make it palatable?"

Trend is set from continued action
My inaction left me numb and blind
The trend is set that my earthly distributors
May take of me as they find me if I'm turned off
The trend is still the same as the dreams
My grandparents had for a better world
Trend toward full automation

Fine for '56
What am I doing now?
How do I live without
knowledge?

My distributors and keepers
kept me wet
in their fluids
using my blood
before but

They will not win this war.
I commit myself to sit and reconnect.
If a hand offers me happiness,
I'll ask, first, Which conglomerate?
If my choices seem chiseled
In the mint of coins
And the choices fit perfectly opposed
I'll remember my nose and sniff
Out the metals that fund this war.
I'll ask then, Whose coin is this?

And it's not ungrateful
When those with all the excess
Try and rule the world
Because of how bored with
What Is they've become
And exactly absolute

Well, what if
I decide there's no war?
Well, what if
I bow my head and take a knee?

People of my same society will laugh at me,
And chastise my every thought before
They say, for sure, "It's just how it works."
Then either crush me from high
Or forget me and play State of Decay
Until they forget how much they're worth.

I hold.
There is no war.
This is not a game.
This is our Existence.
Fragile at best.
This is beyond
Humility.
This is actual
Neglect.

Ever seen a list like this?
Nothing in a name that's not in me.
Want proof?

According to you, I was so, so loose,
I would have come undone.
I'm floating now, aimless, as loose
as I ever was in youth.

Ever seen a list of names
so long, you thought, what's so bad they must
escape?

Hear me now, I'm amalgamation.
Reminder that you can change your mind
as much as you like and not have to hide
the rush of your wave from the water at large.

You're in charge.

And when the trolls come along, as they must,
just trust the pull of your lungs to take
a deep, deep breath all up inside.

And say,

"Yeah, it exists in others.
It must be all up in me, too.
Yeah, I **** them off, cause
it exists in me at all --
But I'm just as much
a piece of glass.
Does your reflection
off of me make you mad?
Not much I can say to that."

I'm Gnat.

the readout simply showed,

    i am the brand name.

it was the ubiquitous, and as

     was i.

production and consumption

     are protected.


i am the being from which the experience is squeezed.

     i am the experience repackaged and sold.

altered by demand, altered again by experience.

     then squeezed, then sold, then squeezed, then sold.


hyperreality affords the assurance of eternal life.

     i am information, in its creation, in

its propagation. the plot has been tossed

     in favor of the house of character,

atlantic, and pacific.

Why, is the superfluous one.
What, is unnecessary, too.
How & When & Where, then,
are inescapable.
     If you act on instinct,
how far will you go to self preserve?
When will you break?
Where will you turn?

Is it your self you'd extinguish,
or is it the other flames?
There can be only one,
but the prize is: death comes
down the path of least resistance
to take a multitude of shapes.

     As for my body,
nothing much to lose,
nothing left to save.

As for my body,
nothing much to lose,
nothing left to save.

Come, voice, back from the original black
Ness, Foot, Yankee Jim
I need a sign from a quasi mind not my own
Fiefallu dendress mazaiyato

Call.
Answer.

All
my answers
lead to nothing
absolute.

Call. Answer me.
I'll
answer you.

Not a compulsion
Never intended, just

Fiefallu dendress true.

Fold for life, unfold for death.
Conscience coming on strong.
What are your regrets?
These bones would be between my
fingers regardless.
All good fun in tow,
but now your ghost knows.
You had a show to live,
and yes you did.
I see my feet fall
within your prints.
All good to blame,
when I'm doing this.

Coffee time.
Breakfast, too.
Wait -
I'll skip the food.
Cigarettes?
Not no more.
I'm sure
I'll find a horrible. . .
(replacement)

{dance to dying}
{the alternatives}
{dance to dying}
{don't appeal to me}

Sit too much.
I stand, too.
Move?
It hurts to move.
I do move -
Right through pain.
Pain = Life.
And so I flagellate.
(substitution)

Look and see
it's right there, splashed upon the screen.
Pixel will dance,
pixel will craft, for those
within those means.
A whole world all
apart from worlds
where I walk less than wander.
Everyone looks dazzling,
and so together, too.
It was sad once, now the sad's passed,
and I'm mostly confused.
Faces on the screen share their
pointed lives like it means a thing.
Meaning lives in the thought itself. . .
Dazzling. And so together, too.
If this game makes so much sense,
what is wrong with me?
What is wrong with me?

I never claimed to feel shame.
You never said you wanted it that way.
I'm not a good woman and I'm not
looking for a good woman, or a man.

You want a slow roll?
I can't do that.
Every prospect loses its prospective
when you inevitably ask:
What's in your pants?
Do you believe in God?
Are you invested in retirement?

You want a slow, slow roll?
That's cute, sweetie -- but for
the sanctity of my heart, and my literal safety,
I better disclose right from jump.
I have a pair of *******.
I have a *****.
I have a heartbeat, beating fiercely. Do you?

I never claimed to feel shame.
You never said you wanted it that way.
I'm not a good woman and I'm not
looking for a good woman, or a man.

2 long 2 incubate
do u not c the stakes?
go fast, kiddo
faster than your
progenitors

move it faster,
skin disaster
move it faster,
u skin disaster u

4 lorn 4 lack of love
were it 1 4 u n 1 4 me
praise Aristophanes?

move it faster
move it faster

get baked, get gay
dance 2 com truise

move it faster,
u skin disaster u

not only is beauty supposedly
in the eye of the beholder, it
also reportedly emerges from
an intangible depth within

okay, then, so that means ugliness
comes similarly from within,
or doesn't it, baby?

so then, ugliness must begin and end
in the pit of your stomach, and in
the words that pass the tongue
on the exit from your ugly mouth

so then, ugliness must begin and end
in the nerves buried in sleeves, and in
the actions that slip the heart
sneaking past the brain, and vice versa.

on the grab from your dead hands.
on the grab from your dead hands.

not only does it tend to work
unlike the excitable pretend it works,
the implication is, that half of your
worthiness is linked to the mercy

of the mass effect.
as for a thought, a dream,
an intent, an outcome,
a vision, a nightmare,
a hermit knows the good folk
permit attractiveness to good lines.

Check errata, pressure chests,
minds of razors edges, vie to
stress knowledge for the win:
You second guess yourself, then.

Flip the cold and oddly coded
engine as if you're blind to it.
It's happening again, now.

Verses nurse the wounds.
Wounds nurse the verses.
Pain's slyly subjective hooks
have hooked the meat of me.

Like accountants slicing numbers,
I slice the mountains into soft shapes.
Earth and water, earthen urns, hold
Life to carry, to gift, or, to displace.

Choirs sing on high, of rightful things.
I was frightful, once. With enough
ignorant vehemence poured upon me,

poured upon me, a bath in love's less
eager refuse, has turned my dreams, too,
into excrement, excrement. Utter ****.

I was excited, once. I swear I was.
Holding out for ****** touch, left cold,
hopeless and wanting when the only
validation, validation I was taught

set my value in cash and beauty, cash
and beauty, two matters of strict
adherence to social standards, but what

if two fat, hairy legs make my tongue wet?
What if otherness keeps me lonely?
What if it keeps me lonely? Can I take
that pain, after all, into the ground of my grave?

I clean toilets
with no gloves on
my two tone hands.

I wondered why
I was born.
She told me this:

"So I wouldn't be alone."

I clean floors and
change a commode.
**** fills my nose.

I offer time
in an exchange
for my wage.

"I'm a ***** and
      I was born for this
         companionship."

I wondered why
I was born.
She told me this:

"I really wanted a kid."

Free agent, here.
I'm a bang for your buck.
Want a bargain?
Then you're in luck.

I can change a bed.
(Please take me in.)
I can tend a heart.
(It's what I was taught.)

I swallow.
(Oh, oh.)
I swallow.
(Oh, oh.)

Lookit me.
This street is mine.
My walk.
My swing.

Lookit this
***** on the *****.
(Yes!)

Lookit that,
******* on the chest.
(Say what?!)

Privilege? I'm filled with love my
mother made sure I can't escape.

I won't use the public bathroom, then.
I love you.
I won't meet your eyes with mine, because I
I love you.
I won't try to find the return address, as
I love too much to quantify my chances.

Privilege? I'm glad you're so concerned
with the politics of my personhood.

What I wouldn't give to share a romantic moment.

The closest thing, I've personally seen, to the truth
is that I am fortunate just for the walls and the roof.

Everyone in the United States loves to *******
as they all try in vain to dissuade their innate guilt.

How much a better person will I become for
all of this good that I have done?

Corporations buy lakes to upsell life like
William Gibson thought they might.

Where is the sunset in flame through the eyes
of a younger Ridley Scott like we saw?

Let's start a fire in the heart of the woods.
Everyone will ignite, equally ugly.
Dance through the night with me.

What's your strain?
Would you care for some LSD?
We could die at any time, obviously,
So why not live up to the destiny
Implied by the monarchy?

Peasantry, peasantry.
Nihilistic pleasantry.
Peasantry, peasantry.

I used to think I was
Selesnya, Boros, or
Azorius, but now
I know that I'm a Jesuit--
Or something?
And so belong to House Dimir
Or to the Cult of Rakdos.

Peasantry, peasantry.
Nihilistic pleasantry.

Jamin Hollis has her residence in The Garden.
In The Garden, in the bloated blocks of Transit Town.
Behind the day shelter, beside the corner store.
Across the parking lot of the thrift shop.
Beyond the fluorescence of the pharmacy.
Right there, just a hop and a skip from the trains.
Right there, just a scoot from the bus barn.

Jamin Hollis is a rampant ***** and she needs,
she needs to die.

Jamin Hollis is a rampant ***** and indeed,
she'll die tonight.

Wait for the streetlights to dot the immediate sky.
Most of them are dead or flickering in the blocks.
Wait for the junk rats to leave for the metro line.
Most of them are dead or flickering.
If any open eyes remain on the sidelines, take a breath.
Collect your nerve and toss a penny on the pavement.
The eyes will blind to the shine and they will prostrate.

Bow with a force enough to imbed gravel in the forehead.

Jamin Hollis is a rampant ***** and she needs,
she needs to die.

Jamin Hollis is a rampant ***** and indeed,
she'll die tonight.

Master, have mercy.
I am Master. I
Have no Master.

The planet
is atrocious.

I am It.

Planet Earth
is atrocious.

I am It.

Why is it so hard
to see
be yond peace?
Why is it so hard
to be
who you want?

The mind, secluded
in a prison rift
of copy paste
makes waste.

Where is my paper?
Where is my pen?
I write for me!
I repeat as if I
will soon
believe.
I write for me!
(logging on again)

The planet is horrid.
I am part of It.

Oh, Peace & War,
do we know it.

Yet with an audience,
my imagination
grows stagnant.

The once in abstract
gathers into form.

I did this misdeed.
A disservice.

Once a dreamer.
Now a journalist.

Standing in the bathroom
Between the toilet and the sink
As such the mirror
Between the waste and stark display
Afraid of my face

What's more my eyes sink
Sunken more than usual
Their grasp of differences
Between non-fiction and
The fictional decays

My arm is off and on again
Now product of the medicine
My father and his father and
His father's father made
In sparing no expense

What's more my eyes see
Dot matrix ghosted notes
On patterns previously
Invisible through my
Corrupted nodes restored

Reborn

One thing though that I
Should let the nurses know
I can now transpose
Simple items left to right
On focusing my mind

Earlier I made the toilet
Paper jump between the
Edges of the room
I then successfully
Subtracted and multiplied

Fine,
if a bitter wind blows

Fine,
if a liar arrives

on my patio
hard heart
worn
right
with the
knuckle
skin

Fine,
pressed on the razor's edge
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

Fine,
when what was once the worst
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

returns to a placid place
below,
so

a new threat may
emerge

Formulated.
You think I
don't think ahead
and plan what to say.

Inebriated.
You think I
walk in like this
accidentally.

Cultivated.
You think I
look like someone
you could use or need.

Find me, then, please.
I hope for it.
Find me. Search me
over. I could find
nothing.