i was screaming,
right out loud,
as loud
as i could.

crying for
my gramma,
because she
is gone,
and she is
someone that
i loved.

and as
i was screaming
her name,
my phone lit up,
vibrated,
and made a sound.

it was my sister.
and at that moment
my little ham,
my own little nephew,
blood of my blood
had realized
that he was
going to
die
someday.

and now i
can't breathe,
for the absolute
severing of my heart.

sometimes the world
seems to have
a lens filter -
saturated greens and
   golds,
muted blues and reds and
the dust is kicked up
into the atmosphere
with little particles
sparkling in the dimming light
of day.

sometimes it's hard
to see so much beauty with
  your own eyes,

and not be able to feel it.

there is only a profound emptiness.

(why buy the cow
when you can get the milk
for free)

only works as a
metaphor

if you believe
yourself a commodity.

[or more reasons I want to slap you right across your pretty face]

upon wakening
my brain informed my arm to
tell my hand
to pick up a pen and
tell of your voice

the first time
  i hear your particular  vibrations
your sound waves
  your signals
over the air
i almost drove off the side of the road
...now i have to close my eyes
and hold my breath
trying to hear a silent memory
  stored in a recess of my mind
your voice has a musical quality
   a warm tone
that i miss

this brings me to your perfect, hateful lips
  (really, i could do without all of this nonsense)
this very moment my heart is pounding
   right out of my chest
         my jaw clenched
                 my eyes glaring stubbornly into blank space
                        just because i *thought about your lips.

  the perfect lines
the feel of them pressed against mine
  first so soft, like nothing i have felt before
so light and glorious time stands still
   there is nothing but happiness
until there is also heat
   and time quickens
     while kisses slow
        contain more pressure
          more need
            and nothing exists
               but you and your lips.

i want to slap you
   for informing me of your jogging habit
my imagination is quite active
   and the last possible thing i need
is the sun...
   glinting on your hair
       on your stupid muscles
i mean, seriously?
i've almost run down 18 men
  that look nothing like you
because of this insanity
   that has saturated my brain
my nerves
   my emotions
      my instincts

never in my life
   have i been slammed
with such desire
   *knowing exactly
how to end this madness

but forced to remain still.
regulating breath.
letting words flow
trying to calm the mind.

but my body wants to m o v e .
my heart wants to explode
my breath wants to quicken...
my voice wants to escape...
my nails want to claw...
my teeth want to bite...

release me from this madness...
   i just want to get through one ******* day
   one godforsaken lonely night
   without this ridiculous longing

walking
   eyes on me
   eyes on me
what about her?
(i mean she's attractive)
        but she's not  l i k e...
the sound trails
  blood drains
(laughter)
what am i not, boy?
   i can guess
but i will not
                 not
                 not

(i mean i just grab it without asking, it's fine. it was 11 years ago and i'm such a totally different person now)

(because, locker rooms)

(and other totally fine things to say)


seems to be that
everyone just adores
bold
honest
g r a n d s t a n d i n g

tell it like it
*****-******* IS
kinds of folk

ask and
  you
shall
    receive

bizzaro world
perspectives
on the
truth
unite!

can't you
see
how bad
you got it?

i mean
christ,
it's practically
syria up
in here

and no one
can save us
from ourselves
except
the man
(in quite the
real, actual,
literal kind of way)
that sits
on a golden toilet

because he's great. i mean
there are people, and all the
people say. i'm a good guy, ok?
everyone would agree
and i'm gonna say this, but i
don't want to say it, but oh good
lord i'm gonna say it anyway,
some of the people
wear pants. and it's like CHINA
and the people
pouring in and out i mean
it's a nightmare and look,
i have gold. gold. and oh man,
do i have lots of it.
all the people say. ask anyone.
everyone knows but no one
knows about all
the mexicans, and i'm
gonna build the best wall.
the best.

CHINA is the place
WITH THE BIG WALL, bro
they did it first

(just checking in...
     everyone still on board
          with all the honesty???)

oh good, good.
i knew you would love it
because, after all,
incoherent
rambling
disasters
of humanity
are your special
kind of specialty

oh prove me wrong.
please please please
prove me wrong.
there are facts,
hmmmm...how do i say,
real things
that really happened
that are documented
investigated
proved
things

that's a thing,
i'm telling you it is.
a real thing.

there are words,
like all over the place
explaining things.

to be honest
this was not a thing
i always knew,
so if you didn't know,
now you do
because i'm
telling you.

i grew up
in a big old
jesus storm
gods and
morals
and justice
and things are
right or things
are wrong.

but an education
does something to you.
an education in art.
in love.
in knowledge.

the world is
not small.
not everyone
is white.
not everyone
believes in
jesus.
not everyone
eats meat.
not everyone
loves boys.
not everyone
loves girls.
not everyone
has freedom.
not everyone
has a voice.

listen
and learn.
read
and learn.
make art
and learn.

we are not sheep.
but we are also not
a people who hate.

and when we
do hate,
as we always
ineveitably do,
and then it is
brought to our attention
that our hatred is
asinine
nonsensical
unfair

we stop
doing that thing.
once we see the error,
we stop.

we do not
keep going
blindly
ignorant
and full
of fear

we stop.
we correct.
we adjust.
we admit when
   we are wrong.
       and that is
       the only thing
       that makes us great.

trying to
google things
...without telling
google.

it's hard to realize
that you are being knocked off a pedestal
you were never on.

it's hard to believe words
when you can see that the words are as thin as air
no meaning exists where nothing remains

admiration matters
beauty matters
and above all else
thinness matters

depression doesn't matter
sadness doesn't matter

**** art.

you have to be able
to look at life
as it presents itself to you
and learn
to rearrange the pieces
until they align
with your idea
of yourself.

(don't worry, i got this)


the sun touched my face
    the whole way home
and still,
     i cried.

i was sitting here
searching for how to
do something mundane.
worklike.
syncing accounts.
trying to find passwords.
downloading data.

i sprinkled eucalyptus around
earlier to try
to make myself feel better.

i lit a candle and everything and
even pretend made my bed.
cranked the air conditioning.
so i could cool off.
and calm down.
and r e s t.

i took 2 dove milk chocolates
and ice cold water to my room.
i just wanted to watch
Stargate Atlantis
and go to sleep.

lazily mining for data
half paying attention
and suddenly an
  intergalactic time portal
opened up before my eyes.
and boom.
(i'm here again)
in this place
of so much
l o v e
my heart pounding
as if no time has gone by.
as if you had just come around
the corner and i see your face
again for the
first time.

literally tachycardia
a loss of all logic
a stupid, stupid grin
my body shaking
in anticipation
of hearing your voice.

by accident.
gigabyte after gigabyte after gigabyte
                and year, after year, after y e a r
and no matter which
one i choose,

i find pieces of you.
    funny little pieces.
        big, honest pieces.
secret pieces.
my pieces.

tears are streaming
d o w n my face
but i don't care
because it is the only
time i can remember
what it was like.

to be a different person.
in a different time.
to overlap with you.

every click
and swipe
songs
artworks
words
photos
texts

the reaching and
the r e t r e a t i n g.
     the coming together and
the sudden
   f
     a ll
in g
a p
art

all neatly in chronological
order like i'm
reading my own story.
but seeing it from
the outside.
the entire picture.
and i can see
where i was wrong
   i n t e n s e
younger
and stupider
and flailing.

but i have always seen you.
     always from the
           very first moment.
you were like an assault
  but in a cosmic sense.
and at the same time
a peaceful, serene, beautiful,
rare combination of atoms and ****.

and i don't think something like that
   could ever happen again.
i can't even imagine it,
   and imagining is the
only thing i'm good at.

curse the interwebs,
saving all this ****
i didn't even realize.
and thought was lost.

but also thank you,
google overlord.

i think it's ok to cry
  about loving someone,
and missing someone
so so so so much.

because nothing matters more
  than being honest
about your love.

and then i looked out
my window in despair
and i saw
a crescent moon.

(a thought experiment)



imagine you are
a young white boy,
in america,
in a small
town,
in the
1980's.

you are bright.
you love
to learn.

your family
loves you,
supports you,
encourages you,
believes in you.

you are innocent.

one day in
elementary school,
you are sitting at your desk,
listening attentively
to your teacher.

you are learning about
your country.
about presidents.
about elections.

suddenly, you hear
your teacher say that
men could not vote until 1920.

you quickly look around the room.
you don't understand.
what does she mean?

women could always vote,
but not men, she says.
men were not allowed.

she can't be serious.
this must be a joke.

you look in surprise at
the other boy's faces.

your face burns when
you lock eyes with a girl
in the class.

you sit silently.
you didn't know
that men were lesser.

no one had told you
until now.

you thought boys
and girls were the same.
had the same rights.
the same opportunities.
why wouldn't they?

you learn that men
had to fight for 40 years
for this right.

the women wouldn't
even write it down.
they thought it was ludicrous.
they tried to stop men at
every turn and succeeded
for decades.

thoughts clammer
in your mind.

what is wrong with boys?

it seems like everyone thinks
the girls are smarter.
the girls can be trusted.
the girls can be free.
the girls can make decisions.
only the girls know how
to run the country.

your teacher explains
that this is not the way
we are anymore.
now men can vote.

you look up at the presidents
hanging on the classroom wall.
they are all white women.
you hold your head up
a little higher.

no big deal.
there must not have
been any qualified men
to run for president since 1920.
yes, that makes the most sense.
that is logical.
to think otherwise
would be to assume
the world is not fair.

-

now it is 2016.
you are 36.

you have a job.
you have a masters degree.

and for the first time
in your life,
a man has the chance
to win the presidency.

this man has
devoted his life to
public service.
has a law degree.
served in office.
worked hard at
everything he did.

everything he has ever
done has been scrutinized,
ripped apart,
diminished.

he wants to secure
rights for men to use their
bodies as they choose.
he doesn't think this choice
should only be in the hands
of women.

he thinks men deserve
to be paid the same
amount of money as
women do for the same work.

he thinks fathers
should have rights.

he thinks birth control
should be easily available
and affordable to all men.

he is attacked on all sides.
he isn't tall enough.
or handsome enough.
he is balding.
his wife cheated on him,
so obviously he's an *******.

the woman running against
him constantly belittles him.
calls him names. rolls her eyes.
points and jeers,
hovers behind him
while he addresses the nation.
makes up outright lies about him,
and no one challenges her.

suddenly, all around you,
you see women rising up.
defending her. brushing off her
diseased ideas about men.
men should loosen up.
take a joke.

she thinks men should stay home.
stay out of business.
she thinks men without huge penises
have no value. no talent.
she even thinks someone should
just ****** this stupid man.

she owns young men's sports teams,
and likes to walk into the
locker room while they are changing.

and it has taken you
almost 40 years
to realize that

the chances of
every single president
just happening to
be a woman since 1920
is astronomical.

you are a white man.
you are almost 40.
you have played by
all the rules.
even the rules specially
set aside for men.
but you are
not represented.

you have to battle
with women about
your rights over
your own *****.

you work harder.
you get paid less.

people constantly
comment on your
appearance.

on your attitude.

on your smile or lack thereof.

judge you based on
how much chest hair is showing.

and you see a man,
that just won't quit,
battling unspeakable odds,
standing up for you.








can you imagine?

myths i cast
in a golden glow
spinning tales of love
scratching tiny black lines
on hot pressed paper

raw lip,
biting down
i know it is a tale
and so i do not dare advance
without my war paint

i am no fool.

be direct
    direct me
ask me
   i will create anything it is
in my power
   to create for you
i will break anything for you
that needs to be broken

al green said
  no one told us about the sorrow
well, no one told me about today
no one told me about tomorrow

if asking were my strength
  this deadly blind balance
would not be my act

answering
   l o v e...
i can answer
i can *answer

art is a thing
that takes the now
takes the real

and makes it
u n r e a l
supa r e a l
surreal

\undone\

n u p s k c a b

reflected | back

better.

deeper.

and l i f t e d
      h
         i
           g
             h
                e
                  r.

i'm a cylon
   and i've been one from the start.

i've always known
    that i was special
  existed for greater things

and it all makes sense
    the love for machines
metal that shines
           the feeling of detachment
the search for the gods

i heard the music
      my machine mind aware
  my humanity in question
spool up the FTL
   and get me the frak outta here.

peacock spider
     i mean,
HOT ****!
SHIIIIIIIIIT, SON!
dance for your life, man
work that **** out

"Yes, I am outraged. Yes, I have thought an awful lot about blowing up the White House ... but I choose love," Madonna said from the main stage area near the National Mall.

"I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters," Trump said.

Don't worry guys, he doesn't mean anything he says. He's so super funny. He's cool, guys.

But you better watch out for that Madonna. That woman will destroy the White House with her love.

a footprint doesn't look like a boot
and my wild ramblings
  don't necessarily reflect my feelings
my god!
   what a rickety system
these feelings
these conversions
     to language
  to thought
to words words words
what am i saying?
   how quickly can i regret
my tumbling waterfall of complete nonsense?
sweet lord someone put the brakes
on this string of confessions...
   how do i say? how do i say?
why can't i
  u s e
    words?
why can't i convert feet to boots
or bombs to love
or whatever the hell it is?
  tell me you know
tell me i'm not crazy.

whatever it is
   you think you are
            or are not
it doesn't matter

i will tell you
    what you are
              because i can see you
(and you cannot see yourself)

you are mythical
made of fire
and grit
and a golden heart
a dense piece
of the universe
struggling to find itself
spooky action
at a distance
when light is shined

entanglement is required
to explain what is happening here

entanglement explains
what is happening
between us
/shivering/
       .particles.
>colliding<

access to all things
privilege in my birth
resplendent in layers of blue
ties to no
thing

but i choose
my binding
i choose
my path

the storm has come
the winter is here
and i will shield
with my superpower
whomever i choose

i will warm this
stupid frozen earth with
golden light
and no one will
question
my intent

no one
will question the
sheer pomposity
of my will
and the
truth too complex
to name
(beating ferociously in my chest)

i am not amused
my strength in
my words
you will hear me
my love  
is a steadfast light.

This is no
blind faith
this is no
sad or sorry dream
this is no
blind faith
round and
round my head
you go
crowned in my heart
electrifying
my heart
this is no blind faith
your crown
is real

the rejects.
the uglies.
the fatties.*

slightly u n d e r
and to the left
                     of the mainstream

dug under a little,

|grooving at our own pace|

pulling at the roots.

you,
with your copper
        and green
such a silly
*******

hiding
      your day
365
  and i want to know

what's the matter,
grump?

slinking around
with your
    secret day

i can be
thankful
       you live
any
**** day
i want.

now you will
   never know
when it will come

when i will
       bring
       the focus
  to your life
  to your years
  to your days

silly
  birthday *******
i will
      light a candle
for your minutes.

i don't know
       how to breathe
in this state of
hypervigilant sorrow.

ask me
      who i am
and i can speak
only in shadows.

i am blunted
i am    
     f l a t
(but not about all things)
in fact,
i find myself quite hilarious
when i speak of sword-fighting
people to the death
you cannot feel blunted about something
   and simultaneously have a desire for
   fantastical violence
someday,
someone will understand
   my flair for dramatic words
   my disorganized thinking that
can only be worked out with rambling story-telling
someday,
someone will understand
   my utter despair and hopelessness
   the massive curiosity about the universe
that plagues my sense of being
in the meantime,
i build mind walls
when thoughts stray
in a regrettable direction
   i add bricks to the mind wall
   surrounding the phantom
   heartbreaker
      soul-crusher
   betrayer
      liar
   hypocrite
you know, the usual cast of characters
(growing at an alarming rate)
i visualize each mind wall
each phantom
each misdeed
and i visualize bricks getting stacked up
hiding the phantom
blocking all thoughts and feelings
blocking all memories
rendering me flat.
rendering me blunted.
but sometimes mind walls
erode slowly or
explode suddenly
and then i say crazy things
like for instance,
i may challenge someone
to a duel.
   or declare my undying love.
or my most blatant disgust.
after word explosions
comes wall repair and
silent fury.