May your day upon awakening be better than the prior;
Even better than that sweater on your flesh fresh out the dryer =)

I once bought a homeless man a big juicy steak and he said to me,
"But I haven't the means to cook this."  
And I replied, "Not my problem."

I would like a double-shot of espresso, please.

How would you like that, sir?

In a syringe, if you don't mind.

Coming right up.

the wait.

Would you like a tourniquet with that, sir?

No thanks. I've brought my own.

Enjoy.

~

After I'd found the vein, I stared into the syringe

Before plunging the needle in.

The beautiful brown...

I pressed the plunger ever so slightly and watched

As the drop slid down the shaft.

I thought to lick it - licked it.

Pricked my tongue.

However, it was of little consequence.

Any pain present within would be subsiding shortly.

In goes the needle;

Out go the lights.

I got to where I am today
Without the aide of
Book-smarts
And being a nerd.
I beat up nerds,
Steal their girlfriends
And drive them to
My parent's summer house
In the Hamptons!
No, I don't need
Book-smarts
To graduate from
Harvard.
My tuition was prepaid
And business comes as natural to me
As does stealing your girlfriend!

Screaming Spades Scare Spastic Diamonds,
Clumsy Clubs Carefuly Cut the Deck,
Horrible Hearts Hum Hymns from Hell
With the Jokers and Jacks, where the Demons Dwell.
Twos and Threes Tear Through the Trees
While Fours and Fives Flail Franticly,
Free Falling From Far-Fetched Facilities.
Six and Seven Slowly Sufficate
As Evil Eights Eradicate Everything on Earth.
Nasty Nines Need Narcotics and ****** for
Terrorizing Tens Tendorizing Tremendous Tributaries
Feeding the Fifty Five Forrests of Fargoth

Tried ta nap, nap ain't hap'n'n.
There's a dead seal on the beach
'n I'm feelin' lonely.
Maybe if I drink enough
It can be my mermaid =(

The place was dangerous as hell; we had no business being there. It was a complex, composed of four immense structures, looming on the bluffs between Lake Michigan and a ghost town. I'm not sure which side of the fence brought forth more eeriness - the sight of four massive industrial skeletons was indeed an eerie one, but within the village that must endure it's haunting presence persists a dwindling heartbeat... and together they produced a heightened effect of slow decay - and that was what drew me in.

The place was magnificent day or night.

By day, we'd explore the groundworks while the light allowed us to admire the massive machinery, which by then had accumulated copious amounts of corrosion. All those dead giants, never to function again. In the spring time, beams of light would penetrate the ceiling above, caving in from years of stress sans stress tests. Even when the light was not shining through, one could make out where the beams have been because in their wake they left a trail of life. Up to that point in my life I thought that was the most beautiful scene I had ever seen - a thousand tons of old machinery, and a stubborn sunbeam poking through, incubating it's au natural industrialized chia pet.

By night, we would ascend to the rooftops of these four story horror stories and gaze up at the stars. Sometimes, when our ***** were feeling particularly swelled, we'd venture across the rooftops as if in some post-apocalyptic videogame. And sometimes when we were feeling a bit rebellious and artistic, we'd bring along some cans of spray paint and redecorate to our desire. Oh, and another reason the place reeked of death was surely due to it being a glue factory... wherein horses were killed in order to gain access to their foot-stuff. I was told by an unfortunate local that they'd bury the unwanted horse parts in big pits back behind the place... this man had told me that he fell into one while wandering around back there - nearly died trying to get out.

We knew the place was soon to be leveled, but we did not know when. Eventually I ended up moving out of state for a while, and alas, upon my return my childhood fascination was no more. shrugs... So it goes.

A man was abused,
Subsequently accused
Of molesting the battered and bruised.

Then along came a rumor
Which banished all humor;
Away he was sent... but they did find a tumor.

But fortune was not on the side of the man,
For he not a penny, no rich uncle, no land.

So inside his head the tumor did stay,
Thoughts of molesting remain to this day,
He'll go to his grave with a gleam in his eyes;
A gleam that ensures his secluded demise.

As I sip on my Coffee
Which is ever so Thin,
I'm reminded why I Buy
From the privately Owned
Local joint which has Been
In town for Decades.

It's appropriately Named
Coffee Heaven;
And I remain a loyal Customer,
Save for when I'm feeling Like
A fat ******* who Doesn't
Feel like getting out of the Car.

Drive-throughs are the Killers
Of Small Business.

Maniacal thugs
Swap juices with sweet angels
On a moonless night.

I'm growing quite tired of girls who aren't you.
It's bitter and cold; however, it's true.
Creating escapes is what I must do;
Escapes to the places where thoughts aren't like glue.

A cigarette burns at the tip of my lips
As I sit here and write this while coming to grips
With the fact that I'll never be blessed by your lips
And I burn like my cigarette, stuck in my lips.

The ashes they fall on my shirt nonchalant
As I hope and I pray for a mental détente,
But commanding my mind is an ill commandant
Who is ever-salacious; forever in want.

Maybe I'll call it polisatire. Maybe I'll call it Satpolire. Satoplire.
Let's go people... nothing to see here but a big old fat *******... Satoplire...
coughs
coughs vigorously
shakes
is naked
just wasn't naked
but now is
Satoplire
#Hilldabeast2016
#Hilldabeast
Hillary Clinton scares me.
I think she's capable of producing some dark days...
We had the black guy... now we're going to get the woman.
What's next... An Octopus?
are you offended because I didn't say black woman or Mexican and instead went all the way down the line to octopus? Come on... You'd be offended if I said anything regarding race or *** there... that is... if you're a little *****!
I'm done.
This ain't a poem... more of a stream of my ****** up consciousness on
Lots of drugs and Lots of Nosleep.
kids... don't go askin' around for that new **** called Nosleep...
I just mean I haven't slept in a few days is all.
Note to self: start putting ajax and powdered ***** in capsules and market it as Nosleep
More Notes: Go on a road trip to Brooklyn with one of the kids you got hooked on Nosleeps and refuse them Nosleep the entire way there. They'll be too young to get it because it's a lot easier to sell fake drugs to miners.
Notes on Notes: I think he meant I should market to minors... not miners. Spent the day last day down in the ***** coal mines of West Allis and boy oh boy.... did they ever find fury down there with which to beat my *** when I tried to sell them Nosleep. Do not sell to miners
Don't sell to minors either. Jail is not the place you want to be. At least not in Milwaukee county. I'm a white boy with soft skin and the prisons here are like., well., let's just say I'd be the ******* on the black sheets
dude you can't use the word black in a metaphor if you're using it to describe black people
oops...
**** it
#fuckit
((literallyfuckit))
k



what was it?
You know.
No I don't
;)
;)
;) ;) ;) ;)

¯_(ツ)_/¯

miners get awfully lonely down there
**;)

A stiff breeze coincides with a passing jet
As I sit on my stoop watching dead leaves
Dance around the manhole in the street.

It's 15 degrees outside,
Yet I persist with this disgustingly pleasurable vice
That's sure to **** me... eventually.
Fingertips numb as carcinogens fill my lungs
To shake hands and broker death deals with my alveoli.

I ponder...

The previous chapter in my life has come to a close.
Awareness of the changes setting in
Allows for a free hand to grasp the wheel,
If only with few fingers...
It's a start.

And I think I'm doin' alright
Despite the heightening
Conservative right - wing,
I think there might be a fight,
Yeah it's ******' frightening.

Along the crooked fence we walk
Until our silhouettes of chalk
Are stenciled on the concrete floor
Hollow, void, alive no more.

I use the word sin
In metaphor;
For I don't believe
Anymore
That there's a
Heaven or a Hell
Or a creator.

I say, "Thank God"
Facetiously;
For an open mind
Unleashes me
From placing my
Gratitude
With a magic dude.

I say, "*******"
Because people get offended,
Even though blasphemy
Is not what I intended.
The aesthetic appeal
Is just so splendid;
Two words juxtaposed,
So tenderly blended.

There seems to me a bitter irony
In cutting dope with my
Health Insurance card
On the cover of a
Book written by
Hunter S. Thompson...

******* on what you think
may or may not pass for poetry.
what is or what isn't poetry.
what is intended to be...
what isn't that was intended to be...
what is and was never intended to be...

I've written ******* YouTube comments
that drew my attention after having accumulated
enough attention to where I declared that there
should be a Poem here. Hell. They were easy enough
on the ears. It's all about aesthetics, right?
If people are going to like my ******* comments
because they make them chuckle or ponder their sanity,
who the hell am I to say they're not poems?
how many poets are out there who just don't know it?
the twitter-critters, the instagram-crackers crackin'
crack rocks in they black socks at a white sox game
yelling at the top of their lungs,
"Abreu ya filthy Jew, *******!"

I digress...
*what a ******* mess

If humans had wings they would flock to the ground,
They would mine as they sing and dig underground towns,
They'll keep on a-diggin'
down diggy down down,
Till they dig up a well
And drown driggy drown drown.
They'll try with their wings to fly up to the sky,
But those tunnels are deep and all winding, no lie,
So they suffered, the lot of em, subterranean deaths
As they flapped and they screamed as they breathed their last breaths.

On the shores of Vietnam,
She was Ly and
He was Tom.
He saved her from a falling bomb,
How much sweeter does it get?

He brought her home to see the states,
Took her on a couple dates.
He even set and cleaned the plates.
How much sweeter does it get?

They bought a home in east Rhode Island;
Decor to match her home in Thailand.
She acclimated to the dry land.
How much sweeter does it get?

Some years went by and Ly would cry
When Tom would get deployed.
"My country needs me."
"So do I."
They both would get annoyed.

So one day Ly brought up to Tom
That life is like a ticking bomb.
So with his quill
He penned his will
And ended back in Vietnam.

Bullets showered from the sky
And mines exploded from below-
But ****** really stole the show...
The warm night skies all orange aglow.

Ly heard soon of Tom's demise...
Tear drops glistened in her eyes.
But she was quick to realize
The will, the future; oh the prize.

How much sweeter does it get?

Does he provide the rope when you feel like hanging around?
Does he provide the gun when you possess the urge to bring things to the ground?
Does he provide the overwhelming sense of greed when you're feeling particularly opportunistic?
When arguments get heated does he make you feel sadistic?

I don't think he does,
But I think he would if he could.
Furthermore, I think that if he were me
And I were him,
We'd make the lights go dim
And hum hymns in rooms
A-dangle with severed limbs.
We'd open the window
And turn on a fan
So that they'd all dance
Happenstance.

I think to myself,
What Would Satan Do?
When I'm asked ever so kindly
To hold open a door or
Fetch a pale of water for
Grandma.
Would he slam the door shut on her face
Or would he hold it open only to close it behind us
So that no one in the other room can watch
What we're about to do to her.  
A curious creature, this Satan fellow.
I wonder if he's available for
Birthday parties...

Twas the night before Christmas
Not unlike the rest
Just sitting here thinking
Quite lost and depressed.
Kaleidoscope ******
Of color and bliss
Resound all around me
But something's amiss.
Perhaps the bright light
That was burning inside
Has collapsed on itself
And silently died.
Perhaps now instead
Of a heart or a soul
I've only a sinister
Gaping black hole.