whatever fell between your fingers
falls to nothing, just like you
remember before you were born?
had you any hope or truth?

any wisdom, sharp and useful
built for man, and to what end?
on and on the something, something
not a lover,
nor your friend.

/

sometimes, when the sun is going down
i can taste it--
i can taste the taste of leaving.

and sometimes when i'm down
i can't steal it
and i taste the taste of losing.

//

it's always getting late
in our little city made of glass.
a wish on a wing,
if only it didn't mean so much.

///

we make more and we break more
we build a city, then we take more
i run with you
who's the **** **?
she's not a friend to me,
she's just a stranger!

we have *** then we get dressed
we get born then we meet death
you left a really, really big mess
you're not a friend to me,
you're just a stranger.

/

sometimes, when my head is spinning
i just question
i just question the whole thing

because sometimes, for all we're given
i just hate it
i just really hate the whole thing

//

it's always getting late
in our little city made of glass.
a wish on a wing,
if only it didn't mean so much.

///

we make more and we break more
we build a city, then we take more
i **** witchu,
who's the **** *****?
she's not a friend to me,
she's just a stranger!

we have *** then we get dressed
we get born then we meet death
you left a really, really big mess
you're not a friend to me,
you're just a stranger.

////

you're just a stranger.
when the world feels cold
and my help's not with me.
check my sanity,
am i even listening?

don't get me wrong,
i've got a mind for love
but i'm staring long
'cause it's not always enough.

(for everybody!)

and sometimes
i start coming apart
and i feel so strange.

so strange

///

we make more and we break more
we build a city, then we take more
i run with you
who's the **** **?
she's not a friend to me,
she's just a stranger!

we have *** then we get dressed
we get born then we meet death
you left a really, really big mess
you're not a friend to me,
you're just a stranger.

laud me for choking on my own spit,
it's an intelligent thing to do.

obligated with such atrocities
are all the universe's riches
so for dignity's sake and not my own
i convinced myself it's how we operate

how intelligently can a thing be characterized?
you've been giving me strange looks

getting myself up for work these days is hard,
i swear there's something different
and don't forget not to get all uppity with me
about how you, your daddy, and your grand daddy
don't know any other way

he stays in rotation the one with his spear pointed at my eye
i wonder why

i think my weaknesses were built in
you want to blame me for them
i encounter situations where everything closes off
but here's the thing, i know what you're up to.

and you will do that and i might just feel bad for being alive

no... I don't read like the famous writers of old
I'm a bad shot and I **** at guitar
I'm half Argentine and I can't speak Spanish
And I tend to get cold feet when I start a new job.

I'm just a broken man with a **** poor outlook on life
But in my own little world when you're holding in your violence
I savor every last drop of life that comes

I look to stronger people in my life
For better ways to hold myself.

I'm a spoiled rotten whiner with a melodramatic tongue,
Trying to snare my sloppy thoughts in lazily spun nets and throw them on the fire inside me.

You could read it on my face sometimes and catch it in my speech,
If you were really looking for it,
When I pause and my engine shakes briefly
Trying to find a smoother if not happier track.

These stronger people
They have tools I can study and take to my shop
Make blueprints and integrate into my machinery.
I want to be a better human,
Smile in the face of adversity
Make myself efficient and spur others on their way to heaven
And contain my personal catastrophe.
I don't want to atrophy.

squeal my nerves,
study me

why i chase this vanity,
is it so unbecoming me?
i can only think it's my final form unfurling

because i know you are,
but future, are you? i'm left with a desire
study me,
study me.

i wanted you to study me.

Dark visions come to me
Lie beneath the shady tree

Come easily,
Like spent leaves gliding to the ground.

Standing up I feel only fractionally alive
My stagnant blood sloshes around inside my big head
And you slosh around on my ****** lake,
And I see colors when you hit the walls of that atrophied cave.

I dress for my funeral and midway,
I am looking to the casket
Because it's midway
And the sky is so heavy and so grey.

And upon my criminal history, I lament
How tragic it is when men govern men

She is wearing my body
It isn't even sincere
I will return to fashion and fade away forever

Suffocation suicide
Buffet, station, carry
Love meant suffocation
Love meant suicide

Reaching through the misery
An acid sludge
For a piece of psychological jewelry
Love and physics,
Love and science.

But rejoice, life is cheap!
It fell into your hands.
Marvel at the way it moves
Or move to be the marvel.

There is a brand of sickness I will never expel--
He manifests in ways
That stake your body
In hell
I'll never be the dreamer I am watching,
At least to keep me company while we still sing.

And so I met a suffragette with moonlight for hair--
In desperate need of blood, I drank what she had to spare
And now I think I'll dream a little more,
At least to keep on running from this fatal Thing

With Michael soaring over me,
I am the lowly vampire
I do not inspire
And I cannot create

I drank up all our blood
My love was not enough
We had to let it go
And sink our buddy's fate.

I'm host to many parasites, but one of them is me--
Who compounds the vacancy,
Which meets itself Free
A lot of stars were cast out in the process,
Well, they all run away from me. Don't you see?

I see myself reflected in their image
Yet disparate and beautiful,
I let them Be
I miss them in the dark
No, I will never see you
Again

So bring me to a Happy End

All four of our hands evoke pathos.
All four of these walls are more easily seen in the morning,
Except the day tears leaked from my eyes.

But I didn't feel human,
At least not natural.

You didn't gently go like I wanted,
I made you give that baby tooth the last wrench it needed and now my brain feels all better baby,
No heart to argue against,
Full steel going off into the night.

And then we'll see smart-sounding, ambiguous lines resolve
One way or the other,
I suppose.

And it's not that you did anything
Wrong,
But exactly the opposite
That hurts, love.

I am always thinking,
A soul just died for that?
In every frame of life
And feel ashamed for the smallness
Or the selfishness
Of that moment.

But I should not be so ashamed,
Because my life is round.
I am one thing,
And the insignificant is necessary with the scope.
I die for the significant, the significant becomes insignificant,
and the reverse is also true.

In fact I am not ashamed at all of anything,
Though I have read sacred texts that tell me I cannot hide my shame
I do not have shame
Because I am everything that is real
Ego results cancel the ego (natural and necessary, though charged with ego, paid in full).

some days my head feels
like a loose baby molar.

don't rock, don't, but
rock it with your tongue.

IF it feels good, take it on!
THE joy of life is waiting
BRAKEMAN, come creative, please. With
TURNS of consolation.

MY heart will find its bedrock
WAY down, where we forget.

BY the way, she's beautiful, and
BRIGHT, with smiling

EYES.

Nuclear holocaust.
Empty houses.

Irradiated dust on the shelves.

People's silhouettes on the sidewalk.
No detectives.

"Sir?"

Then it all comes flooding back. We're still here. Right.

Is that any way to speak to your mother?

I scan the ground beef. Can haz. 2 peppers. Yep, can haz. An onion, American cheese. Mhm. I swipe my food stamps card. Kitty lives to see another day.

Enjoyment. Enjoy it enough. Hope you have a nice day! I hope Jesus has a nice day too.

But what if he doesn't? What if simply going forward draws the utmost hatred and ire? What if I tell you I can't change the story? At some junctures, you'd go into a rage. Or maybe scoff at me.

Just look at me, trying to excuse myself! I don't even know what's going to ha... ah, there's that gift again.

So I walk into paved paradise and there's the big yellow sun.

And there are rusted cars. One of them with its windows cracked. I peer inside and see they were reading a book by a really clever, super famous writer.

I guess I'm the most clever writer in the universe. But that doesn't change how ******* stupid I am. I start the only car in the known universe that still runs.

I'm passing empty swingsets. Lawn mowers in the front yard. The final reprieve of every restaurant, motel, and living room couch.

Vacancy, no vacancy. What's the difference?

Honk!

God, I wish you would stop doing that! Or no, I love it. The company of another person. The engineering of roads. The engineering of the horn. I take a second to apologize to you in my head and start thinking about Indian people honking at each other. When everyone was here.

My phone rings, and now I'm back to being upset. I wish you would just stop doing that. Take me off your list. I don't want any. You'll hate me. I won't enjoy it enough to say it was all worth it. I'm a predator seeking prey. You're allowed to just exist, but I'm not, and I understand why. I feel perverted when I try to interact with you. You have to let me in. If I think you're ugly I'm wrong. Just stop calling. The economy is terrible and the whole world is falling apart. Take me off your list. I'm the one calling you telling you to call me and it's just been causing problems.

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

...what was that?

I guess my mom's right, maybe I'm schizophrenic. But I didn't hear it. Jesus ******* christ man, read between the lines!

I don't read things. I don't find things.

Anyway, that was nothing. It was irrelevant. We have those. It's called living.

As I pull into our driveway I decide I regretted the whole holocaust thing and I fall back in love. Everything snaps back into place and all the cute corpuscles set in motion and the world and all its people come back to life. It's not as grotesque as I think it is, as long as I don't look inside myself for too long, as long as there is something else to distract myself from it.

You cuddle me and validate this little idea I have that I'm the same innocent boy I was years and years ago. That the bad things in the world aren't my fault. I write another ****** poem I don't care about and you like it once or twice and I won't bother to look at your profile because I've accepted I can't keep up with everything. That's just nature. Too prolific for its own good and always trying to spin that like it's some good deal. Oh trust me it is sometimes but what the hell, like...

And he whittles his stick
And it whittles him back
They've done it before
But they're glad to be back
He's fletching an arrow
He's making a bow
It feels a bit different from decades ago,

But he has the Wind
Like never before

"What's the matter honey?
Tap water not good enough for you?"

Yes,
I see the ***** working.

I'm sliding past the mirror
To adjust
Today's arrangement.

The sharp scent of clove--
Cinnamon, honey and ginger
Will melt her nerves today

I will invite her into my home,
And offer her a glass of Perrier, or Fiji
As I humbly sip
A glass of tap water

She loves that ****.
She will toss back her head and laugh

We'll build our own distiller
And jam out
To punk rock.

I will be subsumed in her
With moans of approval and submission
And she
Will turn her head and ask:
"Uhh, you alright there?"

Revisit the infinite
Decline a gift
Oh, you'll never know what you lost
Was it nothing
Was it everything
Was it somewhere in between?

I know the kiss of your summertime lips
They taste like salt, and lilac
And *** and coke

You don't disappoint, my clear christine
Your love tastes like
A nectarine

In a perfect life,
She'd only betray you after your last breath
And it's hard to be mad when you're dead.

That's the best perspective to have on life,
Dissolution of the ego--
I know there are things difficult to behold
But that's the world you grew into,
And how will you meet it?
She wants to know

And so do you.

We lose our tempers inside her
She digests each mess for what it is
But sometimes I just think--
I'll save it for my dying day.

It's a teleological fantasy
This is getting out of hand
To love sweet Dis
Was all I could think

With purpose draining out of me
With purpled eyes that barely see.

Ah, purple! The color of royalty!
This fair spring air is choking me.

Each bead of magic,
Faetal symphony!
I lost this poem
Unto the sea

And you and I were just a dream
I'm self-defined,
Eternal reach.

It's not ridiculous that you will your own body and actions
And esteem yourself with the ability to change it
Or accept blame when others throw it your way

But it's somehow ridiculous that you should think you're drawing the clouds overhead with strange tethers
And pulling the planets across the sky with DeCartes' corpuscles.

And yet, I'm the one who is insane.

Will I ever pour my blood from botched and sloppy urns
Into refined and ornate pottery?
My complex-smelling potpourri,
The exhibitions left by those great artists of history.

Grandiose. That's what they call a sense of self-importance
When your **** don't measure up
We have different views, and whose is skewed?
Of my little stream of blood.

They found Bach dusty and dead
Some ink long dried of a brilliant head
Will I ever have anything to show for it,
Was I a master of craft?

Or does death make me daft?

I remember meeting the girl behind me
in poetry class.

I remember fingerpainting with Jeremy
and loving her
in the grass
by a stream

I remember hills and cold and wine and you

I remember dim-lit rooms

I remember your sister and your parents and your redone bathroom
The hot tub and your dogs and the bed in your room

I remember the traced hands and writing
Under the drape hanging above your bed

Your things were in boxes
But not you, not you.

I remember the singer in your band,
and the drummer in your band,
and your friend from high school.

I remember taking your benzos.

I remember losing my first apartment and moving back home.

I remember that Panic! at the Disco show:
Shut up and dance with me

Moving back to be close to you

Comics and friends, books and loose ends
Arguments and apartments
And dog sitting weekends

I remember me asking for the beans and you spilling them
And trying to hold the beans down
And getting way too mad over them
And throwing your fish at your house,

and driving to Florida and back,
it haunts me.

I remember what it felt like without you around

I remember sending a picture of you
that you said not to send.

I remember saying things
I'd rather not have said.

I remember being blind to Tara and selling my guitar
And cutting myself and arguing with my parents.

I don't need the perfect summer daze

I don't need that song you played
I don't need the things you said
About me
I don't need going to France

I don't need getting engaged

I don't need holding you up with strong arms

I don't need to dominate your ****** desires

I don't need to get dizzy and dance around beach towns,
I only knew you for a year

I don't need to be your friend but I'd love to be your friend
And I could
But that's never going to happen

I don't need that one last word
before we both are dead

I don't need to envy you anymore,
I don't need you
I don't need to compare everything to you
But I'm not sure if i can stop

?
I don't need your legend
So why did it pierce my heart?

!
A year is not that long.
And fear is not an art.

My lord, my lord
I don't want to be king
A peasant, a peasant
A peasant I'll be!

I'll live in the swamp.
I'll live under a log
And try not to bother a soul.

But under my log
Would be very clean
And you'd be quite surprised
I have all I need!

To run my own kingdom
Of me, and just me
But lord, oh lord
I don't want to be king.

The stress of running
Everything
I judge to be too much for me
I'll help along your Majesty
But lord, oh lord
I don't want to be king.

Why run so much of the world through me?
I shan't be trusted, fuckey old me
I'm dumb, I'm crass, and just... **** me

Lord,
THANK YOU Lord
That I'm no king.

I know it's not
But if you consider the bold arrogance of all this
You begin to understand where the seething starts
You swear you are being forced to waste the time
But it doesn't matter
Because you would hate the thing that wasted it
It's blubbering mouth trying to explain to you
We've all been painted by numbers

I swear I swear I'm not the sky
Don't hate me

The thing is saying

And this is why I always think
I've got my work cut out for me
That must be me at different points
Right now or down the road
Trying to forgive the thing for not being that great
And accepting that I "have enough"

But "stay hungry kid"
Always fight for more
Always fight for better
You gotta be kidding me

I seemed a shoddy chance at best
I lost it for a while
I mean no one likes to be kept on hold
And treated like they're small, and lost.

But necessity sees us all confined
And left with our sweet? deaths

But today I am not lost at all
My eyes are rolling dice
When I toss and turn in bed at night
When my youth just brings me spite

No, today I am not lost at all
My world lent me confidence
And told me, "That's a treasured
Thing, enjoy it while you can."

In a way, this didn't make sense
My automatic writer
My anarchic disembodied chemist

How could they all be smarter than me?
I've seen you before
The ******* demi-urge

It feels so tenuous!
I need you to mean something.
WAIT--
As if you don't mean anything!

And something started to unravel in my head.

Yes, we know. That was where it started to end.

Do we rip it faster or pull it slower?
I guess it all just depends.

Necessarily, I would take my role and you, yours.

Necessarily, I would be something evil.

Necessarily, I might be said to require a savior.

Necessarily, sometimes I wouldn't find one.

Emergent phenomenon.

Glass house.

Tickled pink, then red, then black.

White people. Tan people. Black people. Red people.

Rainbow death man.

Accused of contrivance, no kid that's just bold reality.

Going to bed.
Forfeit.
Calling in sick.
Feels like we could have, should have, would have done more.

I guess it turns out I don't
Love myself that much.

God can't be greater,
Forced to compete with himself.

A quantum God,
A limited God.

A God who turned into Satan.

A God who can't.

A God who's scared.

I'll never be greater,
I have to be me.

The angels mock themselves, juvenile
Completely hopeless
You watch them burn

You are not God
You're a drunk misfit
And yet you are fettered to a godly doom,
With no such glory to speak of.

Well then, why am I here you ask?
Well I'm about to show you.

And let this poem be forever evidence
Of the strangeness of this individual,
And how they were fated to be the only one
To experience the fullness of the Universe.

I follow her underneath,
Passing by sad ports to citadels of death
I watch Businessmen exhale black smoke from their wretched tracheae
Of course I'll follow her underneath too
Where love is an alien thing that verily withers.

I mix blood and venom in my brain,
A way to steady myself against the immutable tide

Her gardens explode in the sunlight
Her planes fall from the sky
Her organs fail and her words decompose

Underneath it all,
Where Gwen Stefani wonders if you really love me.

Something leaves me and I grow anxious,
It's not me who follows her out there
But my body bleeding on her doorstep
Arrived just in time for a silent bullet from behind...

But the shooter could be the end of the most intricate Rube Goldberg machine--
Just a knock on the door.

Why did she change her mind?
What has she gone to find

What if I'm the one
Sipping at the garden
In a golden chalice?

What if it's my fault
That everybody dies
And it's all ****** up?

I wouldn't be surprised
If I was the antichrist
I sit on my throne all day
And cry, cry, cry.

I love you dear and deeply,
But oh, not like I should...
The angels see our dance
I lost some grace there, to be sure

But plenty still are shining
And they form a daring wish
They twinkle there, pretending
That they are oblivious.

But you've loved me so truly!
So what am I to gripe?
An arrogant, pathetic beast
God's hand relents to swipe.

I love you dear and deeply,
But oh, not like I should...
A quiet room, my heart designs
To leave you if I could

But safety is the hazard
To which my heart addicts
And trying to convince myself
True love is what this is

But too long now I tuck myself
To bed with monthly checks
That you get from the government
Is this some blessed hex?

I, too, could claim disabled
But time to get a job
One bed inside this rented room--
The princess and the snob.

I wish that I could force myself
To love you like I ought
A sure sign of the cruelty
This universe has wrought

I love you dear, and deeply
But oh, not like I should
I'm glad that I could break away,
So glad you understood.

The bad poems are just my way of saying it's awkward,
It doesn't always fit,
It's difficult sometimes
To know the answer

It was all in your head,
God is no abuser!
He is a setter of trials
Who lost control of his arm
Call that Satan.

Not God's dominion.

Something in... you... went sour,
And made its own choice

A choice for sin!
A selfish, repugnant indulgence

How could you do it!?
You know better.
God gave you the tools,
And you misused them!

And you always think you're innocent!

Ridiculous.
Utterly ridiculous.

The hard math of love.

The full realization of the self.

The echoes you heard in the caverns of eternity.

With over-arching tendencies.

Where trying is a fever dream,
Uncertain if it is an illusion.

But then it wants absolution,
Which it does not receive in equal portions
And some still say it is just that you should know suffering
Or that you deserve love.

So what is love then?
Never confused, I guess!

So you tore my voice to shreds because you were terrified of the lyrics,
Okay I get it.

Because you suspected that you were not meant to be a singer,
Not like them.

Alright.

But before you did, you had some moments singing
And now, no one will ever know.

No one but you, anyway.

But I suppose that's all that matters.

You grasp
For the clutch
Of a wisp
Of a secret... but she knows.

Hands clasped.
Just a touch
Just a kiss
You can keep it... but she knows.

This time
You find a gem and you swallow
Make it like your heart, or your stomach
Swimming inside is the essence of a moment

You peer out at the world
From inside your sparkling skull
And you think yet another sacred thought--
"...but she knows."

but she knows, she knows.

Let's talk about my forced position.

The nucleation of demons,
You allege that I allow it.

No one wants it!

Hey, maybe I'll become an electrician.

Would you foster my comeuppance?

I've got no choice in any matter.

Who the **** am I even angry at?
Maybe Bowser?

Ha, hahaha.

Back to being depressing.

The original stigma comes from the fact
That I'm only complaining to myself
There is no oversight
I am tearing myself apart
And you don't care
In some scenes you only laugh
And now every time I laugh, I choke
Because I don't want to be the one
It's not right
There should be something,
Something established for this person.

Vein
Silence
Thumping walls but the rhythm's canceled

Ignorance
Periphery
Awareness
A cracked eye

A coma

The rhythm was canceled

But not yet

Crest crest crest CREST crest cress  s s
Who knows if it happened
Thinking about it destroys the thought of thinking about it

So don't think about it

Take her hand, let's go
Don't hesitate, why?

It never happened
The rhythm's canceled
Heart knocking against itself
He's a bit of a pervert

I am not the devil
The devil is a ghost,
And me
I'm alive
Unless I'm not invited

All the times we shared
Were trite
And cheap
Now the ashes of
Good memories
Slide from my hands
And onto the ground

Hardly was their purpose found.

All the trips to parks
And drives at night
Lost in time
All vain, and trite

I thought I had my reason down

Now logic fails me
I'm a clown

This wasted time is no device--
For as I live this life of dice
The meaning's in the guts to roll

I never did.

It took its toll

There are things which,
If I tried to explain them to you,
You would reserve further false judgment that I could not explain away with words.

You seem to be resigned to looking down on me

You seem to be adamant that I haven't thought this through already

Why can't you be more open, like me? I know only so much questioning is worth doing,
But you don't see the things you are missing with me.

I am not the worst at lying, and I try to only do that when I have to.

But I am really bad at telling the truth, without seeming like I am lying, when I have been accused.

I don't even want to have to explain it to you,
Because you are already a bitter fact of human life,
And I can't change you.

And when you ask me to explain and I do, I do not approve of what you have to say anyway.

But I keep humbly quiet and ruminate your blessing for me, and I bet you don't suppose I do it.

You have dealt such great blows to my life. Some that I feel were utterly harsh and unnecessary. Your dealings with me have been cold, callous, and really rather unfortunate.

You make it so difficult, but I have learned to love it, to find myself with beautiful form in any situation

And I am trying not to look too long in disgust at myself before I find myself there.

I wonder why you don't seem to question the ultimate results of your assumptions like I do, but only in moments
Because I know life is open ended
I can imagine a world where that isn't so important to a person.

I find it nearly impossible to make a bad judgment, because at any turn I can see how I could be mistaken.

I have been such a fool, though always self-critical, but I am not the only one who has ruined my balance.

Let me go, already.

Sometimes I pretend I am the essence of all that's good to be,
One with this work of art we breathe
And I look down through the clouds
From the moon,
And through them watch myself struggle to find sleep.

I watch the artist struggle there,
Swatching shades behind eyelids
And turning time for me.

I watch a seed in the soil
Work its only way
To me.

I see the broken part of you,
Which is like a shattered heaven
Spilling black blood between everything
That spills into the night sky.

But I guess I was always
Somewhere between.

Sometimes I pretend I am the essence of all that's good to be,
One with this work of art we breathe
And I look down through the clouds
From the moon,
And through them watch myself struggle to find sleep.

I watch the artist struggle there,
Swatching shades behind eyelids
And turning time for me.

I watch a seed in the soil
Work its only way
To me.

I see the broken part of you,
Which is like a shattered glass
Spilling black blood between everything
That spills into the night sky.

You don't have to pretend--
But I think I was always
Somewhere between.

your hands were sometimes rough
and others soft,
divining our connection
and diving into the universe

you were always working out ways
to deal with the black hole that was me.

i know what you are.
you are made of impossible shapes
the intersection of many angels
the forces of the universe conspiring against themselves
to get a human state.

oh, you're always falling into human ways!

so, what is it then?
leave paradox alone... or no,
just don't!
keep picking at that lilac sweater
until we're just fuzzies on the floor
then get up, go out, drive your car to the store.

see, you love me.
see, we'll be okay.

and when you can only find songs about yesterday
i will make us new again,
though i can't promise
you will love me that way.

You make it so bad
You make it so bad
You make it so bad
Stop acting like I shouldn't be upset
Stop acting like I shouldn't be upset
Stop acting like I shouldn't be upset
It's not my fault
It's not my fault
It's not my fault
It's always like this
It's always like this
It's always like this
I don't make my own decisions
I don't make my own decisions
I don't make my own decisions
Then who does
Then who does
Then who does

this used to work--

do you ever wonder,
what is the experience of a damaged brain like?

it's very weird.
it all comes together,
but the sensation gets very strange.

you know something's off.

someone tell her she's pretty
because she doesn't think she's pretty--
a linguistic sin deep enough to cause lacerations,
so stop tearing angel skin.

but my inert heart has been far from heaven
for some happenstance kiss to take
and yours was searching for a place
to plant a garden,
well i made it hard to.

and you got red in the face
when the squash came up blighted
when the weeds conspired to strangle the hydrangeas to death
when i sold strawberries the insects
and i was inside, just scrolling on my phone

and when i told you i was quitting
you turned over the turnips
dirt was flying everywhere
you're gonna make me regret it

but you should know
all these years i fancied myself i gardener
i think i might be more
of a *******

Oh, pretending you could change,
It was lovely

And you did, you changed in all the same ways.

So I challenged you to change, it was ugly.

'Cause you never moved an inch, love
You're frozen where you stand.

This is where I punish you
For being selfish

I assure you that it's nothing personal

It's just dreaming, love
And that's the way it goes
Nobody knows,

After they know.

Nobody goes

After they go

Just go

Just

Go

tendrils swirl from me and collapse
licks of flame lap, lazy at the ether
for now, i feel defeated
doused by the dream-killing waters of eden.

no law says my body will find its cove,
only its cure
i want to dock my vessel in your shore
the fine and smooth skin of your sands
feel the ecstasy of your thin blonde hair running over my face,
hold onto your hands.

******* in my sleek and emotional way
put pure desire in you, watch my fire in you
one weekend we'll have our earthly heaven
but for now,
i am a lonely boat.

tendrils swirl from me and collapse
licks of lazy flame lap at the ether
for now, i feel defeated
doused by the dream-killing waters of eden.

no law says my body will find its cove,
only its cure
i want to dock my vessel in your shore
the fine and smooth skin of your sands
feel the ecstasy of your thin blonde hair running over my face,
hold onto your hands.

*** you in my sleek and emotional way
put pure desire in you, watch my fire in you
one weekend we'll have our earthly heaven
but for now,
i am a lonely boat.

Develop the simplex
And let trinity multiply

And deep within begin your life
In the warm bath of the yoni

I know a complex world
You told me two different stories--
One nested inside the other.

The purity of the mother
Taking in mockery
Which is just another color.

You are the ocean's part,
Leviathan.

Weeping wounds lie at the heart of the wellspring,
Whose acrid tears are the meal of a godless whorl

An accretion disk convinced of personality
A depersonalizing wreck envious of its own neck

Bearing witness to reflections in the collapsing medium that surrounds the head

And hands stretch out in the great magnetic core
Where breath can stay and peace is an object unto itself

But no one ever tries,
Because the shuddering has remembered the choking
And impossible securities have just been left behind
Like the longest path of stepping stones to a grave.

there are days when my body feels
emptier, compared with the springtime
drained of motivation, lumbering legs
are harder to move, an unfamiliar feeling

i keep gently kicking some stuff up in my mind
remind myself i'll be happy later
if i'm more productive now
which is true, and i will be.

i used to kiss the nectar from the neck
of the one who gushed for me

until one day i had to accept,
does she still gush for me?

i worry about not being fun enough
to hang out with. i worry about my weak
memory. an awkward personality.
trying too hard. i do,
i worry about these things.