It started raining on the day you left. It's not stopped raining one day since. I like it, though. You know I love bad weather, and now I drown in it. You know I love you. Certain things won't and will never work. Now, with your name in lights, my life is even less lit. Can you even seen me in the furthest dark from your star? My bed may as well be chrome, my head a mini-ATX, I'm on autopilot. Toward destruction, I run open armed and face first. The wind and drag remind me of our excitement, of living with the fires lit. I'll die in it, and take all our artificial memories with me.

When you get pretty **** high (PDH),
just remember to keep the stove top
dial at 8, just below 8, to keep the oil
of your choice from overheating and
popping into your face. Turn on the
overhead fan and open the nearest
window to ensure ventilation for your
fire detector. Don't be a cigarette and
don't ignite bushes if you can help it.
Remember this when you get PDH:
You're more than a face but you'll get
lost in that possibility for hours if you
forget that your face is such an integral
part of your translation of you to world.
So be with the world. Don't get lost on
your way to and from. Women grab
your ******. Men grab your *****. We're
having a fun time, such a fun time,
yet not really feeling fun. Remember,
meet under streetlight right outside
your room, 12:01. You want the world?
It's apparent. Smoke another bowl why
don't you, it's all over your clothes. You
want the world, don't you? Why don't
you meet me one past midnight, local?
Sell your soul to a red devil for endless
wealth? No. The the the most importa
nt pp aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaart
to remem member is that Lucifer loves
you. He is a gentleman, be not afraid.
For you he trades the wealth for free.

Painlessly, you squeeze my drying heart
To expunge words you put in me
I'm almost dry
This time
When I'm
A ******* desert I'll
Soak, **** syllables inside
If once more I pin your fragile arm to wall
This time
We'll know manipulation
is in my nature

My mouth tastes like fireworks
Grown with love
Enjoyed with care
Blitz blaze ignite a truth
Obviously there
Watch smoke go drifting
You, too, reach to the sky
Weightless
Wordless
No less a person than the news
Under the influence
Under all things
Matchsticks, boxes, food makes
Mountains in our kitchen
Rot smell, cancerous, foul
Presence in our home
Under the mountain
Insect in flesh
I'm nothing more,
Am I, than under the influence?
It's true. Which celebrities locally
Represent you? Senate, what? Political duress.
Kaitlin Olson, say something poignant
Or in dark we die, speak well, or we'll be Jersey soon
Save me with your confirmed link to God,
Please.

Hit too hot hit too hot
Now my throat burns
Watching Workaholics
I'd say Blake is my favorite
His hair is cute I like his face
Wild red hair creating umbrella space
Flick the engraved Zippo the gift from wifey
Blunt in the bowl smoking
Spent ten on a three
My other lover might sit with us soon
Three in a room sharing hands
Possibly kisses, massive attack
Playing mezzanine we'll either touch
Each others' skin or carry conversation
As it turns out I've found peace with
Either outcome or any other potentiality
While it's pleasing to be receiving I'll be
Lying if I tell you I don't appreciate the fine
Details in simply spoken word between us

CDC was basically closed. Their OLCC application is stuck in processing somewhere between here and wherever. I went to the other one, instead. The taco place out front still isn't open. I have to imagine that a taco shop is going to do pretty well next to a dispensary. It was T2 something. Counter guy too cute, fast talker. It's a good smoke, but I ate a tray of brownies. I wish I could throw up, but if I'm gonna have love handles, I'd rather they be diabetes sweet, rather than the alternative.

Most people want me dead
Or speak of me with regret
fit for stage and silver screen
tragedies -- but I'm not gone
as if I'd be much better off.

My family kept me close at heart
I'm a privileged *****, who
lives as well as possible --
I don't know what that means
but I seem better off.
I feel better off.

Paycheck to the next I do
a self sensual low light dance
as if my insides don't grind
in the race for cash at hand
We're better off. I'm not gone,
but better off dead. We're
better off dead.

Do you remember pooping while you were high?

No.

Pooping when you're high is like waving goodbye to your best friend in slow motion.

We need to do our taxes, that would help.

Don't we have another month?

You've expressed you feel a ****** disconnect.
Feel yourself some kind of alien pilot.
What's love in this, this human shell?
What's self-respect, esteem as well?
You're ******* weird and that's okay with me.
You told me for the first time, I'm queer.
That's cool. If I'm your ******, you're my ace pilot.
You're ace as **** default, I'm gray ace at best.
Why do we sit this dusty rock ridge between worlds?
If you're one, I've seen this alien's appeal.
The most delicious sight of your skin shown will have to go on ignored. And that's fine. That's fine.
I'm your little ******.
You're my ace pilot.
And that's fine.

We got some dead queers here
they're messing up the floor
Too many *****, too many
******* ******* don't get
me started on the trans*
We need to move our cars
and stroll the walk with
ignorant future tagalongs
More than need to care
To say, ******* speak up
We got some dead queers here,
No ******* problem

When I'm scared
And could not feel more fear
This is where I run to
My home is a rats' nest,
That I share with you
My home is a rats' nest
Parity. Ambivalence.
Stolen at once -- mistake
Our better days pass far behind
Is a lie my heart betrays
My home is a rats' nest
That I share with you I
Invite your adverse conditions,
Your brittle healing hands
We stole parity
by mistake
Stole ambivalence
by mistake
We have detritus decor for days.
by mistake?
On the shores of her lunacy,
the lake before the sea
hidden well
before the ugly human ocean.
We own a rats' nest.
Rats' nest.

When the lights stop spinning --
Will the lights stop spinning?
This is the crash,
This is the fall,
I'm the water coming back down
Return from orbit and
Breaking old ******* bones
How's that for home?
When the lights stop spinning --
And they will stop spinning.
Gift of immortality in abstract.
No God, no blessing to grant.
Touchdown from orbit,
******* asteroid.
I am the master/pilot,
My body to destroy

Felonious bologna spread
sweet meaning lips to air
through air to ear.
Good kids grew up framed
Bad kids grew up changed
Zip burnt bone butts
Sweep the back patio
Procure snap lights
Glow sticks in darkness
Vibration received
One hand on the other's trail
White-blue red-pink
Write names with innate
Shapes in muscle memory

That feel when
re-burn fills bowl
Queen/King
out of gold
No clean smoke
No hairy rip
I scavenge
for oasis in glass
ash trays
Expect the soft
kiss and faint
*** sweat of old dreams
but the smoke
blows out and once
more the world shifts
For free

When all the water has left
the dry Earth will sing to Sky
Return, please, return!
Both the stone pulling
and the void pulling
like to kiss in the middle
of war. Scorched turns to damp
in the end, providing our
diligence and duty to life.
It's shameful the water goes
now when such destruction
hangs in the near distance.
Diligence may no more undo
the damage, for the time
has gone as well.

She's lounging on the futon playing Stardew Valley. We both get a kick out of it. Mainstream gaming can **** a *****. Exceptions occur, of course. I look into the bathroom mirror through a splatter of mouthwash and toothpaste and groom my hair, my face like I think highly of myself. I don't. I shave and I pluck, admire the edges, pretend I'm of feminine energy, pretend according to the faces and voices that matter. We have to look out for ourselves somehow, but in whole what the world can see of us makes them think we're outsiders trying to climb into an exclusive box. I want to find myself beautiful, and I know you must be happy with yourself, but there's no pleasure in false positives. Where is the touch of appreciation? To struggle visually means that windows are better caked. Not cis, nor have I ever been. In the end, I'm content enough choking in the wasteland.

What's the problem?
Root out psychic weakness for clarity.
Get a clue. Find fear with his pants pulled down.
Grease him up. Marvel at the grasp you have
When it is your grasp is cast. Take control.
Write it out. Of a pen, venom dipped, or on LCD.
Create targets. Release your load. Watch what
You thought killed you explode. Say your prayer.
Kiss dementia on the cheek. Find your tools
To craft relief, send your sinking self to sea
Sit on the water, in twilight above and far gone.
Wait for that bony fingered knock again,
That **** is infinitely recurrent.

Objection

Bankrupt blood pulses
and always has through my veins

Objection

Gender-fukt oblivion
alone rises into view

I'll never be the dollar's friend
Paper will not be mine

Objection

Bad upraising
I'll raise up worse

Believe in me
As I you
Find as our youth
Detaches further
It hurts

I go hard in the club
Double whiskey, that's my drink
I'll meet you in the bathroom
Wash my mouth in a ***** sink
Bus home, charging Love's busted energies
Where the days old dishes drip
with sludge and collect a days old stink
Wrap my head for the pain to come
Sleep ******* thumb, dreading
The numbers will repeat
And replete with melancholy
Accept the pattern will repeat

Believe in me
As I you
Find as our youth
Detaches further
It hurts

Rejected. Cast down.
Whose boots to lick
for readmittance?
Wing clipped. Horns ground.
Whose feet to kiss
for readmittance?
Coffers emptied.
Nothing to sell
for recompense
Aim high. Take down.
Plummet from sky
face searing aflame.
Kids are just kids.
Kids will be kids.
Let them learn on their own
Sick ******* joke

I play Magic: The Gathering.
I play video games.
I do both as a means of break in mundanity.
I suppose the way a person reads,
The way a person watches a movie.
Stories within stories in words and then
More stories within pictures
The picture part is great because I can't draw.
I mean I can't write code or balance over
Twenty years of game mechanics but words,
I've got words. I've got the best words.
I smoke **** and I have a lot of weird fetishes
I don't know why. To both of those things.
I have no idea. **** makes me paranoid and sleepy.
It does other things, too, but I can't describe it well.
I can't describe it clearly.  I like drinking ***,
But I've never peed on someone else, so I don't
Know if I'm down with that. I'll have *** with anyone,
But disclaimer, I won't have *** with just anyone,
If you catch my drift. *****, ******, whatever, doesn't
Matter but I prefer my fellow queer, or queer minded,
You ******* sickos. I just like getting my mouth on things.
Someone well learned in human sexuality might be
Able to shed some light on that.
I chain smoke and I neglect myself.
And I do both because I am one depressed, self loathing
****** with a half hearted death wish or some ****.
I cling really tightly to naivety, but not because I want
It enough to have it around all the time.
I'd say it's only so I don't go down that road again
And self destruct. Figure that one out.

Innocence
becomes
passe
Sin again
within
favor
Gestures of genuine penance,
all shall be refused
Jaded to the long term touch
I shall now renew
Sin
     Again
               Within
                           Favor
Sin
     Again
               to
                  Favor
Balcony beckons escape to only fetishists' invites
God would not rain *** and skin in test
So
   Remain
                Godless

Crazy is the medicine
as is what the body does
Blood let won't be of my own
Problems? Come find
my home, secluded precipice
Hold up your hand
still it of the trembles
willingly consign
worry at the cost of
all you own

Medicine, come fight me!
Split existence, split to wind.
I'm paper, aren't I?
The weaker of the two.
You're ink, aren't you?
You will do.