I like  you.

I like  you  a lot.

I want to be bored with you.

I want to hold weekly board meetings over the topic of you.

I could impress the shareholders. What do you think?

     I think you enjoy honesty, and despise flattery.
Believe me, I know the difference. I hope you do too.
I am no wily flatterer
I would never say something like, “I’ll sail to the MOON for you,”
something impossible and irrelevant. With the consistency of soupy puke.
I should just as soon say,
“I WILL jump recklessly from the top of a very tall tower, and land—perfectly intact and unharmed
… for you.”
I hope I am not the only one who sees a problem with this sort of logic.
So instead I’ll say:

Let the madness of what this fixation has turned me into, fuel my fears and my ambitions and drive me therefore, to construct a missile, with enough space inside to harness only myself, enough kick in the engine to erase my past—and all the laws of life as we know it.
I will have those memorized by then, and plan to have my hands on new laws unforeseen by any of the other
mainstream earthlings;
maybe using my new third eye to grasp at something up there that was previously air —
& I will beg this nonconsensual devotion you’ve evoked in me please grant me the derision to press the button, and launch myself into that forgetful lazy river that contains all the planets, asteroids, black holes, spaceships, a lonely-wandering U.S. radio transmitter, spilt-paint nebulas, one of Tiger Woods’ golf *****, a drunken astronaut, some of the crew from that Malaysian airplane (you know, the one that went missing), and also there are suns (often called stars), and moons, and there has gotta be a little love floating around somewhere with the celestial ants
and supernovas
and EVERYTHING.
and dissimilarly nothing you can grasp.

to the Moon?
sure,
why not babe,
if moon-rocks could somehow make you fall in love with me,
I would plan to rob the Smithsonian (or probably a similar museum of history but one with less security),
and if that ended up a no-go,
thenyeah.


     Mad. Zoom.


straight to the ******* moon for you.

I am bleeding myself every morning, sometimes quite aggressively.
My brain's become responsible for too much blood, you see,
My head gets clogged up, and
the blood—becomes responsible for all the naughty thoughts that drive me...
Oh My,
Sticky. If you ever got it on you.
My blood is white like the untouched snow out back, could be almost marble imitation, for all anyone knows, before the tracks have been put in.
Marvelous snow, beaming in on me.
To wake me.  
Harsh on my eyes the sun is, It and It's reflective partner maim me. For my idiocy in having kept my eyes shut through a morning such as this.
The glass doors are perhaps too kind in their admittance of the morning light; they must be early risers.
Oh My,
My blood is cold. That's why I stay, content, in bed with warmth.
I am, as it appears, too much a coward to ADMIT MYSELF into this air
to spite the sting of winter,
to drown in it, naked, and embrace it, the taste of it, like new lips—belonging to a thing more grand than any living creature to have graced me yet. And in that breath...
Oh My, what, oh what new secrets
shall I/might I/ unbury with my hands—if only set to dig in the right place, and for long enough.

But the lips of Earth can't ******* as well as I can.

I am inspired.
In the court room; waiting,
Feeling Well Groomed.
   I am in a state of psychological superiority. Everybody look at me.
separation from all avenues,
Or at least the current case.
I match the formal dress criteria almost well enough to blend in
with the wolves.
No.
I am the wolf,
They are the pigs.
There are drawings all over my three piece suit.
   I am the Zen master in the waiting room.
I play fruit ninja. My slices are precise and direct. I go for combos, and
I let my posture decide its own careless angle.
I remain a casual-clay reduction of societal judgement. Am I it innately? Am I somehow powerful?
One girl is so nervous that her knees buckle in front of the blonde judge, who looks as if she used to be beautiful.
When she makes her plea, her voice trembles. If she were in front of a firing squad, I think,
Not even that could make her seem more fragile.
When I step up I smile.
I don't think I was supposed to smile.
Littering charge, minimum fine: $20
She charged me $70
I left feeling totally enlightened.
And just a little *******.

NEW DAY—
   wake up.
Put your head in order.
Do not trust the inspiration just
go with it. Because
when it strikes it strikes hard and fast and
it ends with both sides panting— put your head in order.
   It's a good thing waking up early.
Shower off, then immediately after—
two cups of coffee. And a cigarette.
I hold my vices in a cup.
   Relapse into delirium; it's O.K.
—Quickly out the window to first
breathe in new day.
Snag the morning paper as an errand; locate self on this
wide spinning orb.
Locate self in the Material, then
locate your Center.
I have a CENTER.
All good feelings from the CENTER.
Bleed me. —Get my head together.
   Back inside to fireplace, and piles
upon piles
upon piles of
needless words, works and extra copies,
all to be delivered unto warmth—my fire.
Put the book down.
Do not obsess over self-image, or
Self involving propoganda.
   Accept the imminent dissatisfaction— I mean
really Accept that.
One more smoke,
****** thoughts—    Keep your head in order.

Get to know what wears you and describe it eloquently.
Lose all track of time just walking.
Walk more often.
Love your footsteps, each and every ******* one.
REMEMBER:
   Timing is a virtue.

: LAST NIGHT—

I watched a ***** internet video;
a man getting halved by an Elevator.
It was a slow process.

     — LISTEN:
I am not really sure if I want
to think about it at the moment— and
I certainly don't want to write it out. That would require me
a stretch of contemplation                                —AND
a reach to be descriptive on my part, or at least
not to be redundant.

No,
In order to tell you about it,
I would really need to Stress the details that
got me: That really human kind of ****, you know?           LIKE:
the expressions on his face, and how closely his step brought him to near freedom—just outside that metal box. Just before it came down hard, and took 50% of the poor ******* with it.

It was the manner in which he got stuck that pushed me There, and
not traditionally.
Think long-ways.
The exact scenario from my nightmare so far back— with a single deviation. Setting.
Of course, inside my twisted anti-fantasy: it was the antagonist was suffering,  also this character I had come to know by name and action.

   ...Anyway that segment shocked me.
And I don't get shocked that often.
It was a sort of fate that I never actually thought I would observe in person. There is always the stopping point when watching gore online and that was mine.

I want to offend.

Because Instagram is my medium, and because somewhere deep down--in that place that no one talks about--it makes me feel immensely validated: putting out my ******* and receiving little bits of peer approval in return... Because I still smoke too fast when I want that short indulgent rush to last the most, so light another. Because the Itunes visualizer is an assured source of inspiration when I am feeling small about the universe, and about the 5-ish senses that I am confined to, and because there is too much of me to simply be kept quiet; because the things I want are wanted too completely to shut up about. Because I am doing excellent, and I want everybody in the world to applaud me for it--for my relentless and unyielding grasp of sanity, which often slips without my sureness be-ing lost along with it, and because the wreckage is a comfy place to lie when everything comes down to it...
Because admitting to yourself that you are addicted is the first step to recovery--or so I am told,,, and because denial is the first step one must fall from if they're itching to reach bottom... Because I am tired of climbing and have learned--among all else--how to enjoy the weightlessness of this long fall and the uncertainty it brings: uncertainty being my one true love, alongside mistress logic, who I truly LOVE returning to with open arms, seeking her comfort after a long long trip-- where I can walk winter without minding cold, and can enjoy seeing all the sights and all the Mad, Mad characters that wonderland contains. Because there is no 'character limit' nor is there censorship where I am concerned. Because I crave the criticism: that repetition is a cheaters way to write--and I want to cheat life's limitations and all social standards every chance I get. Because above all else, below all else, I want to clarify that--through every lesson I have taken-in since recently deceased December, and through all I have learned painfully, through the confusion and unrecognized irrelevance,
Because the greatest thing that I have learned thus far is: I am learning.