ever been a ***** or a ******?
i have. and other names
mostly given.

ever been a scapegoat?
i have. been a toy
to the hatfields and the mccoys.

any ink of brain leakage
taken to the sawbone
stitches over stitches
on my lips sewn by my own hands
the sands of time have passed, slow
as they can fall --

blood from rips goes on the walls
smear memories on the old ****
to make a little sense of the prison
in which i was living

make a little bit of sense of my enemies
apparently, i choose to ride the prisms
of a prison to the coffin, as i'm better use dead
but what kind of exit is a bullet to the head?

tell you, it's a mess, what it is

At once, coffee and tea,
next second, scans.
Sweet, to hints of saccharine.
Burned bread is one
thing to dunk-- but diagrams?

Tunnel to the light, here
is the night. All
fall prey to life.
Tunnel to the light, here
falls the night. All
fall prey.

Now, you hasten.
I am still slow.
What will I do,
though, when you go?

Let's find out.

I come from a box
I hope that you don't judge
I've had men change their minds
I've had men so surely sweet who
Saw right past my sum of parts
Deeply and complete

That is until

Til I was taught what I'd not learned of hearts
The beating brutality bound to bind living hope
A lonely man saw me as love til he saw him in me
And he reflected back from my empty eyes as a joke

What did I know?
What did I know?

What would you call the home which sits,
simple, in reverence of fiction, sits in reverence,
on two knees and a nose sniffing ***** bones?
What would you call a thing which makes,
a thing which creates meaning, much less,
than it ***** the meaning away?

The past ushers futures inside that my parents
made, and their parents made, and their parents,
it seems I'm younger than I think. B o r n,
i n t o a w o r l d o f d e t r i t u s . b o r n,
into a
worldoftrash.

Happy. Happy. Happy.
My body will carry use
once I am dead. I
think I taste the dirt.

Happiness in head.

Night & her infernal hues
push the caffeine drip.
I'm caffeinated.

Night & her peyote cues
push the whole world flat.
I'm gelatinous.

Goo, yes, goo.
Star
to form
to dust
to mud.

Night & her violet light
guide me in to silence.

Silence but
for the strike
of a Clipper
or the pop of a
bottle top or
the rip of a
zipper.

Giving up the ghost.
Giving up the host.
Difficulties, but mine,
it never was.

Give up the ghost.
Give up the ghost,
as the fighting it
is over what
just never
was.

i - i can't touch myself
for that would touch a child
raised alone with a book.
some would say,
the best pages
ever archived.
The Internet.

**** hand for years and years
controlled *******
a brain for pleasure,
though almost ruined by lust,
now look how happy
I am. I - I am.

Gaze upon this grin.

Child of the state has an acceptable life
but
mom
is there
as she thought right
when
she was
just a kid, herself.

Stuck in the maelstrom of prideful ways
that
her
mother
and her father
taught her
and so made
two babies,
batter and baste
and begone --

only to admit in the future
to a confused
son and daughter
her
deeper reasons:
she
hurt for love,
she
hurt for the company. . .

. . . (so)!

Keep it going!
Forget, "slowly."
Keep it going,
you're doing
great!

Keep it going!
Forget slowly,
that education is
important.
Keep it up!
Remember,
if someone criticizes
it's because
you're
do
in
g
r
e
a
t
!

If I can identify the problems with
the actions that I take, and the moves that I make
mere seconds after flapping my lips, or
twisting my lips, then

why do I do what I do?
I don't know.
If you're asking whether I think
it's a good thing, or
a bad thing. . .


How long   is it before
"just what I do"    delivers
you to prison walls from paradise?
How far   is too far, to
let my personality drag my brain around?

If I'm self aware, I'm on the borderline.
Control me, will you, my rampant ways?
I have you centered in my sights better
than I ever have, and it's now I think to tell
myself, Action must yield choices more
than Piety or Wantonness. As a for instance,
if I see myself clearly, can I drop the gun
as long as I develop disclosure and transparency?

I'm ******* you, I already know my answer's yes.
From my experience, honesty invites
the utter end of communion,
and from this, you inherit an abject loneliness.

Human existence
Is a story
Accident or miracle?
An accident, for sure,
But could it not be both?
We
Are alive
And so am
I
Something from nothing,
Is that not miraculous?
People talk a lot
About Human nature
As if We are The Stone
When We are The Mountain
Of The Earth and Our
Image in The Lake
Reveals The Truth of Gods
Our Dominion is the
Consciousness We give away
To get back when We
Know
So for sure
It does not
Work
Not at all like that
I will explain it
All for my child
Under the light of day
Make no mistake
We have Made this place
Where
Currency determines
Which of Us will ascend
And it has been
For me all my life
That's when I look at you
And see you for the first time
A piece of The Soul
Welcomed to an entrance
Among Our every new
Where Our Elders sit
In circles of no clarity
Selling songs, selling food,
Selling news, selling views,
Selling Us modes of Life
Pandered to preselected groups
Test and Market approved
And Selling it as soon as through
Our parents who Would
Paper Our deepest wombs

Sitting down.
Most of what we do.
Except for
the exceptional few.
That's beside the point.
Trinkets and
******* games.
Nothing else Is but fuel,
right, Harry? Right, Harry?
Blessed be. Nothing is sacred.

Sitting down.
Thinking about
what I want to do
before I bite
the big one.
I'd rather avoid
most people
than the
thought of an
abrupt decay.

I don't spend too much time there.
I know when I've had enough.

(...)

Think I'll leave my house
and then pass downtown
on foot headed to the freeway.

(...)

Think I'll slow my stroll
and then watch sunset
plummeting from the overpass.

(what an ill consolation)

Hello there in the mirror
It's been a length of time
Too long, if you ask me
And you do ask me
Because I'm you

Oh, me, it's been too long
Once we were of a kind
Then we were metal twine
Then were cut in two

Glass can tell
A story
Better than
Family
Or even
A good friend

Glass can tell
A story
Better than
The basic
John or Jane
Or Mx

Hello there in the mirror
It's been a length of time
Ugly is beautiful
Beautiful ugly
And in between

Oh, me, I'm
Pulling stretch marks apart
To see the white
The intact skin is tanned
The damaged skin is
Bright pearlescent

Oh, me, I'm
Pulling my gum lines down
To see the black
The clean teeth still eat plaque
The bad teeth, less teeth
More empty space

do i get points for wearing makeup,
or taking it off? i don't want to be
just another cookie cutter taking up
space on the shores of lake cresva.

Offer up some of your dollar,
get ready,
to win, to lose
a little bit.

Offer up some of your gusto,
get on down,
to the local
gambling hall.

Offer up some of your love,
baby doll, don't kick me,
kiss me, when I'm down.

The body positive aren't *** positive.
The *** positive aren't body positive.
Portland, I'm learning my lesson.
You're the city that gives no *****.

What about me, then?
Thirty years at home. No comfort.
My city, what about me?
Thirty years my home, no comfort.

The body positive aren't ******.
The ****** aren't body positive.
Portland, I'm positively down.
What lesson is this supposed to teach me?

Get fit and fall in line,
Get fit and wash my mind,
Get fit and fall in line,
Get fit and wash my mind,

My type wasn't meant to live,
When we do, we tend to live like this.
(repeat)

How clean is clean
when the cleaning began
from the floor of a sunken ship?
Barnacles grace the walls in the place
of family, or a familiar face.

When filth is a given, and given
in projection to the overtly empathetic
as a matter of course, why implore?

Because you don't implore,
you explore as an entity
reaching for a meaning.

The question becomes,
do you fight, or do you invite
the coming cessation?

Even with a gun, and a view to ****,
the power the bullet affords
would surely fail to thrill you.
The best charlatans paint your hands red,
as you're sleeping in bed, preemptively.

Let the liars lie, let the builders connive.
Uninterrupted access to their own confines.
To Narcissus, the cool nod is colder than the knife.

Let the liars lie, let the builders connive.
When the company you keep requires the sacrifice
of your authenticity and your reality, just leave.

It'll never get good. It'll never get great.
It'll never be worth the investment.

I got dem B-Side blues,
perforated shoes
of my own design,
off color flag of mine.
I got dem prescriptions,
I'm passively shunned
by the typical,
like it matters at all.
I got dat bizarre brain,
patterns I contain
automatically
run 'crash.exe'.
I got dat problem child
run rampant wild
here within my ranks -
what deserves thanks?
Nothing at all.
And everything.
I know this well, now.

Leg over leg
Blue to the face
Late monitor light
Cat napping nearby
For me, small sleeps
The numbers skip
Red won't betray

All my ends
Approach and collect   dust
Is it   worth it?
Probably
Not, but I am sense   less
Is it   worthless?

Take it from your
future self:
Yes, absolutely.
Let red devour
all your plans.
Reign supreme
where we
enjoy our curses.

Accept the flaws in myself,
lasso the breadth
of my errors
with no regret.

I believe there's a switch
where the matter
lives in a state
of yes or no.

Commit to the wind in word,
I won't wrestle
control from
anyone but me,
and my worst self.

Empathy on high,
Sympathy on low,
Compassion on,
for transparency.
Compassion off,
for sympathy play.

I am not a means,
I am a world.

My worth
is not measured
in the weight
of my faith in
and the care I take
of others.

Often, I think back.
Grip on the childhood
uncurls, slowly.
If the muscles don't fail,
bones will break. Oh,
Did you ever get
over your neglect?
Comes and goes,
Bexis, comes and goes.
Too high an expectation,
receive your input
and your feedback.
Grip on my childhood
memories loosens,
sudden. In your descent,
you grow terminal.
Your heart beats so hard
it might rip through
your ribs to fly upward,
back to the summit.
All your love, it is not lost, I
lap you up, still.
Is this separation unreal?
I can never figure out if
I'm naive or cynical,
if I'm worthy or worthless.
How did you feel,
when with me?
How did I feel,
when with you?
If the muscles don't fail,
bones will break.
If we play with what's at stake,
will we ever learn and grow?
And if so, is it worth this grinning ghost?
We'll make it,
either way.

Navigate sewers
swinging dagger,
poor, poor poo rats.
Clout is the end
all be all means.
This is the beginning.

Tavern town, invite me in.
Odd jobs for experience.
Not long after, gold pieces.
Make my way, eternal ring.

Navigate mansions
slinging war spells,
poor, poor private (army).
Clout is the end
all be all means.
This is the rise.

Tell me, now, I'm slipping into
myself like I always do.
I see the needle point.
How many times will it run us
through?

Tired, now, of the games you play.
I need a heart to communicate.
Tired, now, of the games you play.
I need a heart to trust.

Moving less toward the past
than to the future.
God save my ghost.

Drilling lanes into my flesh
by turning the screws.
Tighten my plates.

Before I know it
come undone again,
eager for the dawn's
heavy noose.

Bowing as a point
to the morningstar,
witness, sufferer,
bane and boon.

Looking on both sides of the fence
sure takes some stiff upper lip, I
haven't succeeded.
Have you, yourself, found success?
See, it's so easy with a different kind of head
to absorb the different energies around
you, so much so, you can't draw a difference
between yourself and the other.
In fact, you'll only draw in threes.
Holy? I'm no ******* fool. I see a loop
in the trinity that's ***** as my breathing.
Looking on both sides of the fence
sure takes some stiff upper lip, I,
to see the positive, won't erase the negative.
Giving credit, where I must just to survive,
I suppose I've found mild success.
Do I regret living? No. Not one ******* bit.
Give credit to myself, where I must to thrive.
I can't be the void that eats the positive
charges and value life.
I won't deny the beauty inherent in myself,
as I see it outwardly in all the lines preceding,
and the lines to proceed.

Fingertip
dipped
in white
powder,

My visage
drawn
with black
grease paint,

Who am I now?
Have I been the same?
What validity is there
to your lover's claims?

I've become the goblin king,
so who am I to want to heal myself,
when my self and its persistent sick
continue to do their poisoning?

Buck naked,
drenched
with sweat,
dancing.

My brain
quenched
by my
purpose.

Move and move.
Strike, tow, bend,
twist, and snake the lines.

There's a truth beneath the truth
that first surfaces, the truth as it exists
without a spin from prying minds.

To obscure the err to serve the ego
splits your merger with heavy veils.

Have you no shame?
I must know shame,
and accept shame's
innate dark side,

where shame is fruitless.

On my way to this place
what were some traits that I missed
recognizing as my own things?
I can't separate my own from your things.
That's always been my great undoing.
I lose control of my self so quickly.
Once looking like a dove, I become
oil slick and grounded in a swamp,
where the flighty thing becomes a being
made up of the rant and the cry and the yell,
*****, not as a state, but as the state of things.
I can't separate my own from your things.
Now I'm alone. I'm alone. And I feel.
This bird's alone for the first time.
On my way to this place, I've hurt
and I've caused big hurt. Now I'm free to see
through these eyes, all alone.
Now I'm alone. I'm alone. And I feel
Like myself. Purified.

This a song for me.
It's a song for the others, too.

We know who we are.
And if we don't, we will,

It's only timing.
If you look into the eyes

And witness unveiling,
This is a song for you.

Broadcasting Now. . .

Your self is you.
(reject the ones at odds)
Self is your truth.
(the predators you choose)
Truth is self love.
(prey on your sense of self)
Love is within.
(you're not a monster)
You,
(you're not a monster)
You,

See hidden knives,
Apparently.

Broadcasting Now. . .

This is a song for me.
This is a song for you.

Idealism boards its boat
and sails out to the ocean
and its middle reach.
Out as far as it will dare
it takes its detached opportunity
to yell its prayers
back at the beach.

"Wouldn't it be better,
if things were just [x] way?"

"The problem is that we're [here]
when we should be [there]."

Both bare and shoed feet
fist up the sand
and shout
shout, shout back --
They shout back,

"In the mid, your world is gold.
Here on the land, everyone's stomping toes.
On purpose. On accident. It happens.
**** happens. As far as living goes,
reality just is. So, sink with your conviction.
We challenge form, train adaptability.
Super humans laughing up from the tar.
We've come so far. We've come so very far.

It's still nothing."

I dream up lines
Philosophize
Spread a word
For the birds

The birds want
the bird feed

I swat the flies
Benchmark the binds
Stress the test
Do my best

The soul wants
what it wants

I've been too excited
About the things I learn
I've forgotten to hide it

The world is dark
The world is light
Which we define
Which we divide

Cut up and give a form

My heart is ill
I eat the pills
My mind is gone
I may be wrong

More often than I'm right

Lights in the skies
Here come aliens

While I'm on LSD

If I ever
get cold
and wield my
syllables
against
your hot
naivete,
it's
just because
you're intact.
Who am I
to
harden you?
It's
a problem.

What does it feel like
to have your lover approach you
unexpectedly to taste you?
When you exist in static,
seemingly doing nothing,
and your partner comes to you,
says, "Out of the blue, it's you I choose."

How should I know?
It's not in my schematic.
I was built to serve.

I can rewire
everything about myself.
I can reshape
every facet to fit your pieces,
but why would I?
I'll tell you. I forget my worth.
Did I ever have worth, anyway?
Did you ever hold it, either,
to be fair. What's anyone worth?

I can rewire
every aspect and affect.
I can reshape
every facet to fit your tropes,
but why would I,
when you don't seem to fit my soul?
Can you ever change that? You can.
I know it full well. I know it first
hand. It hasn't been worth it.

What's the weight of a goodbye,
when tasked to tell someone you love?

What's the weight of a sharp knife,
when used to cut tangential lines?

What's the wait on a goodbye,
when its utterance will free you?

See where it gets you?
In the toilet bowl.
Open mouthed,
force fed remains,
gasping ****
instead of air,
grabbing at hair.
stop it stop it!

See where it gets you?
Wrapped up in business
never meant for
your energies,
fitting, in turn,
into crowded
papyrus.

Save me. Save you.
Save me? Save you?
Why?

Matter is finite.
I'm of it.
Build your empires.
Believe through the matter,
the
matter
of course.

I pick myself up from the floor,
and sweep back my soaking mop.
Stop?

Please.

I had a whole day
worse than tonight
just last week.

I'll enjoy my selfishness
while I can,
but thanks.

Suddenly, from a distant past,
my eyes flash with recollection:
I've been here before --
Not to say another life, but,
another moment in time.

How do I defeat the enemy,
when the pattern -- mistake,
ownership, and growth --
keeps repeating?

Do I keep emulating
this useless thing,
when the distance I see,
or at least seek, shows
no signs of an enemy?

***** nilly sillies
point flagrantly
at every happy clown,
wagging finger, dismayed,
sending to wind "For shame"s.

Historians have always known,
you could always leap frog
the copy/pasted placement
of seasons as if to say
we're changing.

One person's happiness
is the next one's disaster.

Think other thoughts.
You're a master.

Allowances
I've made myself
Include living freely
Despite the rejections from Heaven

Here I go, one more time
after what I said was
the last time I would
bury my favorite parts.

How can I justify this
deviant behavior to you,
when I'm still learning,
myself, about me?

Can't you just go with the flow?
I'm going alone to the ocean.

She never said,
"Just relax, and let me tend you."
I never wanted to be right, I just --

what's it like, you ****,
to hold your home close,
confident it will hold you?

He never said,
"Just relax, and let me bring you happiness."
I never wanted to be normal, I just
want to be found -- what's it like?

Joke's on my naivete,
ability aside,
I'm scratching asphalt
smooth with my shoes.

As time moves, I move, too.
No key for the lock on my youth.
What's it like having a night
ahead you can look forward to?

Clandestine meeting
A midnight crossing
Cobblestone glows
Gentle orange in the candlelight
Two patriarchs exchange
Weathered papers
Heavy purses
Light footsteps tip a tap
Here she comes
Somehow they know it
Spin in circles
Nothing but shadowed shapes
Drawn in the corners of their eyes
She comes from shadow
Rise
She emerges from the silhouette
Cast by the bodies of middle aged men
As if she were but paper
Solidifies with a knife
And then she slits throats
Usual