Kerouac Drive.

Sin what he asked for.
Said his head was broken.
Only baptized needle in his vein.
Started seeing stars lit.
Only when closed.
Saw the nebula.
Rusted with violet.
Saw his love.
Open.
Saw nothing.
In nothing.
Gone.


Garrett Johnson.

Laurel Canyon blues.

Soft spoken.
As I listen to the chorus In her eyes.
She plays in the prison of Rhythm & rhyme.
& I who has lost the night to time.
Watching the form of smile in a light.
Matte.
Sat reading the arrangements.
Presented on the face.
As she sang Tell me why.
A Young song for a young soul.



Garrett Johnson.

Layamon.

Monday morning- A SMoke. Walk. An d music.
Tuesday morning- Love. acid. Walk. music.
Wednesday morning- Watch Taxi driver. Watch Inherent vice. SMoke.
Thursday morning- Grateful Dead. flowers. Flowing. Melting mountains.
Friday morning- Ether. Die. Die. Die. Dead.
Saturday morning- Reanimate. Smoke. Write.
Sunday morning- write. Write. Write about writing. Write.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.




Garrett JOhnson.

Laying under circumstance.

Certainty waving back in ink.
A tar.
Why do it later.
How about now.
Au revoir.
Within Mantles of.
Pristine composure over Thought of the drag of thought.
Only a little ill.


Garrett Johnson.

Leaky.

Grounded in amethyst.
Cold dew.
Pure mossy trees.
Slip unnoticed overgrown.
Love made on earthly floor.
Duplex Doors of the infinity.
Never failing to impress.





Garrett Johnson.

Leather acid tests.

Wednesday- I'm back, went to San Fran, did some jenkem, I don't recommend, And I didn't make it.
7/4/19- Sat from a far, Watched the fire works alone while talking to my imaginary friend.
Friday- Woke up form an ether stupor, masculine, shot up some of grandma's finest neon soup.
7/7/19 around 5:00 pm- went to the community festival, had a cookie, blasted off into the outer reaches of space with a girl, and a guy.
A few hours later- met my clone.
The day after- Went to Idaho with the girl, made love in a barn, old fashioned rebel style.
7/15/19- Drove back to San Fran in my doctor's space can, Write, write, wrote, write some more.
.
,
.
Very sure we died here.



Garrett Johnson

Let it, I know

Put it mostly, as if I care.
I make the time....Timely.
Nevermind.
Off center of void.
Alright I feel annoyed.
Hey...
Hi.
Like it's not.
Like I'm not.
Fine.

Garrett Johnson

Letters to nobody.

Sorry for the mess.
I don’t know how to say.
What to say.
The lavender fields are choking me.
Leaves seeping into me.
Hyacinth canopy.
Rusting couch.
Could’ve said ouch.
Before the lavender.
******* Lavender.
I fathomed her.
Free murderers for rent.
I’ll take one.
I am one.
I killed myself.
Didn’t mean to melt.
Like myself.
Hate myself.
Being someone else.
Myself.
My self.
On the shelf.
Elf for Halloween.
She was.
There.
Here.
Fortney.
Blanket Express.
What a guess.
Sleepy Stress.
Lovely dress.
Live for meh.
Eat some veggies.
Smoke in the tub.
Don’t count on me.
Can’t have fun.
Slippers on feet.
Cartoon drawings.
Don’t go to prom.
Didn’t go to prom.
Didn’t walk.
Just picked it up.
Threw it up.
Didn’t come down.




Garrett Johnson.

Leviathan's storm.

It has come.
The apocalyptic overload.
Sworn down from the realms above.
Like the parting of the red sea backwards.
Comment allez-vous I ask.


Garrett Johnson.

Like a Rolling…

Bukowski status.
A lone roof.
I'm done.
Get down from there.
You're going to die anyway.
Weather you jump or not.
You want a little death.
I want a little death.
Come on, show me.
I wont.
*******! You're wasting my time!.




Garrett Johnson.

Like Paper cuts do.

I guess I wanted to know.
But I knew.
How so.
I mean...I guess that's how I always felt.
About those eyes.
Peering from across the room.



Garrett Johnson.

Lithium Leakage.

It crawls.
Has big headphones to hear all the details.
It's monotonous in every way lonely.
It has internal bridges collapsing at all times.
Uses it's vessel in the the 21st century.
But it's soul lives before it's time.
Has all and nothing to live for.


Garrett Johnson.

The end.
A Picture.
In the river of madness.
Silent.
Quiet.
A scene of universe.
Under eyelid.
Of her.
Of them.
Silhouette.
Dancing.
Campfire.
Blood.
Love.
Flatlands.
Prai­ries.
But in the town.
In the city.
We groove.
Subtract from the eye.
We dance close.
And yet so far.
Loose.
Like Greenwich.
We beat.
We float.
She hears the show.
Immaculate.
Showing a her soft side.
Riding through the wind.
Meet with eyes.
Screaming.
That dies.
We can never get enough.

Loved over there and here.

Went to the old house, you lied.
Danced all alone, you cried.
Loud and clear.
Tears on back seat.
Pull over.
Tired.
Not much in my life.
Only a drink and this song.
All calmed enough to lie down.




Garrett Johnson.

Lovely Ruins.

Tossed through ash.
Cold.
Bruised.
Sail to me for conversation.
Not A lover to one.
Not one for another.
Covered by lips.
The old teachings.
Learned to be alone.
Take up enchantments of touch.
Tremolos in the fingers.
Grip on nothing.
All to be nothing but the trees in Fall.



Garrett Johnson.

Lustful Regress.

Under.
A wonder of pain.
peacefully insane.
The killer has been welcomed.
Did you let him in
?
?


Garrett Johnson.

Magazines and other Accusations.

He spits.
N then you run.
You say hello t the crow.
He hands you a towel.
T wipe the coal away.
Swaying.
He sings.
Your dead.
You’ve read.
Yr sad in yr bed.
But you kick.
N you squirm.
Shouting out that your done.
A turquoise girl appears.
Handing advice out on note cards.
Stuffing them n Your pocket.
You walk away.



Garrett Johnson.

Marion Gaslight

kicked in with malfunction hair.
Spliced.
Sociopathic residue drip to the commuter of the world.
Spliced.
How do you love your warmth.
Plunder.
All and well now.
We'll just wait it out in our arms.



Garrett jOhNsOn

Maroon Dysfunction.

The wall orbs in seconds.
While I dwell n loath.
Chew through blood curdled at the scene.
Pooled in awakening lithium.
Only to match the curve of the tremolo.
False.
But defined.
through friction.
& breasted shadows.
So shown.


Garrett Johnson.

Mess Silhouette.

Forgettable toast.
hallway unbearable.
**** me for me.
I'll do it.
Shock to sick.
Pin it on my chest.
That's ok.
getting some.
Sleep to burn, eyelids Scorpio.
******* dumb.
Leaf sticking to, the end of.
Noose to bandage.
Really helps a lot.
Maybe not enough.


Garrett Johnson.

Mettle.

Mettle in the bohemian.
The magnum opus of self destruction.
Narrowing to the confines.
Mettle in thrownness.
Watching from above in 16mm.
Sliver of flower.
Grown from nothingness.
For nothingness.







Garrett Johnson.

Age.
Free roaming.
Free foaming at the nose.
Mouth with a miss of courage.
Study hard to keep my position of being the coolest hobo.
I’ll collect your junk/my canvases on Fridays.
Saturdays.
Sundays.
Mondays.
Tuesdays.
And Wednesdays.
Too busy to care.
Too busy to be busy.
Busy feet lead me to some road outside a busy city.
Leading to purity.
Petrified.
Floating over a prairie somewhere in Idaho.
It’s my own private one.
Once in awhile I.
Remember.
Something someone said sometime ago.
I remember it but I don’t.
Not really.
I’ll be back.
Out getting ribs.
I’m back.
My ears hurt.
My ears hurt.
Please stop.
Discrete.
Please keep it this way.


Garrett Johnson.

Moonlight on her sweater.

Alex took a 3rd.
Shot in her head.
Didn't know any better
She pins the 44 at the wall.
Skulking at the rain.
Tired of the poor of it all
The lie of the weather man.
The azure wind in her ears.
Words.
Saying that ran.
Behind the fears.
Left only foam from her mouth n her toes in the sand.



Garrett Johnson.

Museum.

Once again it crumbles in solitude.
Mourn weeping groan.
Please don't bring it here.
It only causes happiness.
Thick and shadow showering sound.
Like the sick child.
No more.
No more.


Garrett Johnson

Naturally walked.

Even the alacrity in the spots.
Stars the undoing of nervous endeavors.
And pines made of thought thrown asunder.
The globes.
Softly speaking.
And smile fragile.
Then gone.
The spiral orb.
She waits.
In arms.
Tended to in black.
Asked in gloom.
Pillaging mind wasting.
And rest.
In a frantic sooth.


Garrett Johnson

Neon Sigma.

Paul Newman took my cool hand.
He said he would double discount down on everything that’s bought Man.







Garrett Johnson.

Neutrophil Canvas.

Twas like the sea.
Shaking.
But still.
Traced on her face.
Whispering peace.
Slow dancing with breeze.
Adrift.
On the unconscious isle.
Swept through the tunnel of blue.
As if dreamt.
Only refined to contrast.
Remembered as lines on her hands.
& reawakened to be found.
Alone.



Garrett Johnson.

Never bein who I wanna.

See thru.
neck kiss.
car hood.
lost a thing.
Don't belong.
don't believe.
all wrong.
have to leave.
don't.
.
Stay.



Garrett Johnson.

Never tneconnI.

Desert lake.
Invisible fallout.
Falling out on a infinite ride of high.
Goodbye new world.
Vast hauntings on the inner globe.
Slow.
Subtle.
Seriousness nowhere to be found.
Sad.
But pleasant.


Garrett Johnson.

Nextdoor synapse at 3pm.

A creak.
A drop.
Horn yet ominous.
Frank Blasted.
Pine, a few tabs.
A few screams.
Possible.


Garrett Johnson.

Night.

This night will be the last night of our lives.
Mother, I'm thirsty.
Role call.
Freeze in the heat.
Waiting for your heart to beat out of your chest.
Moving.
Keep moving until you're out of breath.
Millions of bumps.
Cattle car.
Thoughts of JOY on our fresh new start will last us through the night.
Run.
Run.
Until your bones ache in the sun.
Until your brain overloades with fear.
And your shadow no longer appears.
Cry for your brothers, sisters.
Father's, mother's
Lovers and others.
Cry.
Cry.
For your tears have evaporated into the air with the innocent.
Strip.
Down to your skin.
To the flesh your no longer own.
To the body that holds no hope.
Striped garbs, pants, shirt, jacket.
Rations of black coffee, soup and bread.
Work or crematorium.
Welcome to Auschwitz.


Garrett Johnson.

No directions.

Travel down this here icy river.
Sleep in the car.
Catch a cold.
Burn parallel sticks of cancer.
Back against cold bark.
Lack of confidence.
Black sweater.
She forgot to progress.
Her story was nice.
Dark pine.
It’s getting dark outside.
It’s too good inside.
Buried fire letters.
They were never sent.
I’ll get out of here soon.
Washington county.
Pyro slugs.
All caught up in tear sleeves.
I’ll help your helping hand.
No help here.
The world made cones are my saviors.
Your neon wounds have been saved.
Helping paper cup.
Your friendly neighborhood razor cuts.
Hands grasping forest side.
I’ll forever.
Be by your side.


Garrett Johnson.

Blood from the private places.
No time to talk.
Only lay on the floor in tears.
No strength to get water.
Dive off into a city of lights.
Fade away from the strums of life that moved forward.
Away from the normal things.
We wash down.
Erode.
Or evolve into something more.
And less.
The kids have their friendships and relationships.
Pre-adulthood ***.
While I turn the keys of the world.
Trying to create my own.
No desire for wants.
No real one anyways.
I forgot what another person felt like.
I only sit here to say things because I feel like I have to.
Or maybe because I need to.
Why do we do anything.
Because we can.
I try hard to stop the burning when I close my eyes.
The seas of my priorities make lakes and ponds.
Streams and rivers.
Made the mountains.
The deserts.
The grass and trees.
The worlds beyond my mind.
The touch of skin.
Of a hand, arm or neck.
I don’t think I’ll be here too long.
Not long enough I guess.
For the silence in my ear has faded
Being alone is nothing new
But it’s good to have company.
Good for the soul.
I make my own gravity to pull myself down.
And my own rockets to send me away.
There are no second thoughts.
I wonder if i’ll be missed.
Because the silence in my ear sure won't.

No reason until.

Reassured and measured.
You take off your buttoned shirt.
Smothered in dead dye.
Left confined, smiling, once.
A murmur.
No place.
Left wanted.
All streaming in haunting.
Let go.
As the back of candles remember, the brain that coursed in
The drip.
The flow.
The pit.
In the stomach.
Just, still.


Garrett Johnson

No sign to stay.
In her brain.
I’ll stand on the chance with nothing to say.
Stand in the blue.
Slow with care.
Shallow.
Intimate.
Light tremallo.
Waves to ease in.
Never monotonous.
Always Grimm.
And sullen.
With embers and trauma.
Cast out into a French corner store.
Where she had stood.
Selling paintings.
Coffee.
Basket house.
Cafe.
Such a muse she was.
At night.
Abandonments.
Outcasts.
Displacements.
Said their words.
Crying inside.
Healing wounds.
Her turn.
And that smile gave me everything to know.

Nurtured Destruction.

Self Loathing.
In emotion.
Corroded by dawn.
Bare.
Hopeless running.
Water until the sun.
Meets thee eyes.
Left stood under what has been.
Time.
& purpose.
All while slept for the early.
& your lover's loving rise.
For eternity.





Garrett Johnson.

Oct 15, 66.

One of those nights.
Where the air is slick.
Where everything can be heard from miles away.
Like a tremolo stealthing it’s way around.
From every knock from door.
From every word from lip.
Form every star deciding to die in a super nova.
You know.
Those nights.
Sure I do.
No.
No you don’t.



Garrett Johnson.

Ode to being gone.

I was riding o the high.
when the voice sank.
Muddled
& confused.
Reaching from unknown waters.
Beds placed in orders.
& disorders.
Wrapped upon a red vessel.
A girl.
Placed out of Her known waters.
& subtly coughed upon dining room tables.
She the contender.
She the rose no marry.
She the lovely wearing flannels in bed.
& she to touch the flower within your soul.



Garrett Johnson.

Ode to her flannel shirt.

The dark horse screams.
The water mimics me.
The sunlight keeps us clean.
The night time keeps us lean
For what.
Inside of me?



Garrett Johnson.

Ode to Penelope.

Silence.
Sweet in symphony.
For she.
The carrier of infinity.
Bound in saddened halls.
& Sheltered in my arms for intimacy.



Garrett Johnson.

Ode to the hand that's held.

Leaf blower suicide.
German going in & out.
The precious things.
Lay on back.
Looking up.
Doing only what is known.
Wondering what isn't.
Going side to side.
Talking.
Talking.
Talk the ride home.
We only went to Wyoming.



Garrett Johnson.

Ode to the most of it all.

Painted
Nation in white.
Rushing to and from the veins of agony.
Rash and amounted with seas of coursed grain.
& fog streamed from the consience waves of thought.
And Affection.


Garrett Johnson.

Ode to the road.

See you and your rivered mind.
Sought out in cyan.
And cry for the drift in your eye.
Made for.
The groove.
The tremolo in your pace.
Rose hue to your face.
And the sea to your shirt.
The one you got in Olympia.



Garrett Johnson.

Odium.

Wonders in Asher night.
Oh won’t you come see me Mary Read.
For the Alabaster is polite.
And the drink *****.
No copper of coin and coincidence well played.
Unlike thee.
To not show the softness of tough.
Or show the heather skies color.
And to have no answer for the teal engraved in the eyes.



Garrett Johnson.

Oh does she.

Last step.
Shirt caught.
But she doesn't care.
Boots.
Through mud.
But she doesn't care.
Eyeshadow.
Looks up and down.
But she doesn't care.
Hair.
Blue.
And.
Brown.
But she doesn't care.
Sweater rip.
I help.
But she doesn't care.
But then she cares.


Garrett Johnson

Ok.

I left it there.
N I left it here.
**** Lighthouse Bukowski back at work
I left it on the porch.
Like a hoover vacuum.
****** up into a locker at the metro.
But who gives a ****.
Dylan Thomas never checked in on me.
Why would he do it now.
Lost that ******* hoov.
Like a rustling in a box made out of neon foam.
Lived in that tree for years.




Garrett Johnson.

Old and Tattered.

Stuck cold.
Like the vicious snot in my throat.
Nestled platoon of dew.
Molding the tunnel.
Configurated Japanese combatants.
Planted in the deepest of the deepest.
Halls.
The twitching of subtle brasses.
Lightly hugged by breeze.
It's nice up here.
Balance in intimacy.
Of such is feared.
Too young of Neil to use such diction to describe such another half.
For only fiction can thread through these lines.
As intimacy is scarce in the lands I walk.
The melody sits sweetly.
Like a whisper.
So clear like a resting lake.
So pure As the calm eyes that appear from the tree line and sing into the soul.
Standing here all alone.
The lingering glow of something that was.
Into something that wasn't.
Or something that never was.
Gentle like the strings "Down by the river".
An acoustic outcast to live for.
Burnout in a sanctum covered pine trees.
Cinnamon water, and blueberries.
Folded cough drop wrappers to be used as cigarettes.
Woolen blankets.
Mirror.
Year long beard.
Three year hair to the shoulders.


Garrett Johnson.

Once again

I fell into those eyes,
Once again.




Garrett Johnson.

One.

Dead.
It stands.
Illustrated
For nothing.
Too nothing.
In the isle.
Of Loath.
And weeping to the ecstasy.
That shown once before.
The crystal eyed.
Slept none.
Cabin soft.
Escape.
Playing mindful.
Collage of inner chaos.
Volume languid.
Unreal.
Illusion
It thinks to an eroding tone.
And still present when it leaves.


Garrett Johnson.

One Riff.

Come down the stairs.
Take off that robe.
Get a chair.
Pull it close.
Whispering hands.
Silvery toast.
The best thing the coast could offer.
Was your hand.
Now.
We sit.
On the swing.
Conjuring.
The only.
Song We sing.



Garrett Johnson.