I thought my past was all I had,
I didn't understand
The struggles, triumphs, pain
Is the reason that I am
Judge me if you must,
But no one judges me like I do
My past makes up myself
And I swear to the tree tops
To help anybody else

And oh how alive this day feels.
Mother Earth is relaxing
with cool wine
that submits itself to me.
Everything is fascinating.
Life is too funny
to be taken so seriously.
And so I roll back the curtains.

I miss my
honey.

With a smile on my face,
I hope I die in
a subtle grace.
And I hope you, too
smile when you know
I'm in the ground
of some burning town.


I hope the birds
chew up worms,
and feed them to my
open mouth.
I hope the dirt
becomes my friend,
And hugs me,
warm,
Like you never did.

I'm laughing at life right now.
And its hideous smile is fading,
It's flashing its fists

jabbing at my gut,

But I'm absorbing the blow.
I won't give it the leeway
it so furiously desires.
I'm laughing at life right now.
I'm laughing at you,
I'm laughing at all the women,
All the
ghost women with
their long
waning
white dresses.
They're all so stupid.
But men are too.
All humans are dumb by nature,
it's the artistic ones that introduce a new kind of stupidity.
Nature is true
intelligence.
The trees, grass,
Sky,
Spider,

know more than any person.
They know the secrets of equilibrium.

People are complicated.
Simplicity
boosts its confidence far over the
heels of education.

And through this,
I've realized that life is taken much too seriously.
And love is only real
when love is in true natural beauty.
Love is unearthly.

Love is all the elements.

And inside all beings,
is dirt.
Soil,
And from this
reputable source of life
sprouts
the love
of the
individual.

I live with these words.
I love with these words.
These words sit on my shoulder,
They call out at random,
crying to be heard.
Sometimes I let them leap from my
***** shoulders,
When I feel they are ready to slice the air
like the silence of lovers' lips.
Other times I can't let these words leave,
They weep and holler
to be let out of my masculine prison.
but I don't feel they are just.
I feel those words are
perhaps
far gone,
or far ahead.
I try my best to oppose their freedom,
But on rare occasions,
They spoon their way out.
The Alcatraz words.
They found a way out,
And they're criminals.
They'll ****,
They'll feed on beauty, pain, and resentment.
They'll gnaw out the cloth
on my shirt,
Until my chest, bare,
reads them for all
crawling eyes to see.
Those words are elegantly dangerous,
and they're my favorite ones.

If I could hold a word,
I'd have quite a few in my palms.
The clamminess of my hands
would dissolve them,
And they might imprint themselves
deep into my skin.
I live with these words,
I live with these women,
I dwell with this strange
reptile that can't
seem to behave.
The grains of time
continue to sift through
me.
My head is strained.
I'm breaking my wrists over the
hopeful bend
of space,
And my fingers won't stop twiddling
And now I'm driving 90 down the freeway
screaming at myself and the road.
I have a rage inside of me that's barreling its ugly face
Straight into the jaw of some unlucky recipient.
And I envy everything now,
And you're going to wish
you had seized me
right as the flower
curls over,
and smoothes out in subtle death.