blah blah blah

My bones are blue
Like silence in the night
Like broken jazz.

I am an empty street
In a cool Harlem night
I am an incestuous father
In a twisted rural world
I am an unopened book
In the biggest library

I am lonely
And I miss you.

the sleeper in the valley is haunting me,
what I should do I haven't.
I'm a junkyard full of false starts.

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,"

:Bought a book of Ginsberg:
:Thought it quite lonely:
:Found out socrates was a *******:

I fell asleep and was dreaming the subconscious dream,
The theorem was proven and I could breathe again.

I awoke to sirens,
nymphs,
and Orpheus standing over me.

I am a small bit of nothing, a Wes Anderson caricature,
a pre-printed, pre-made, pre-packaged archetype.

I bought guitar strings from a lovely woman,
I want everyone to hear me.
Hear me play Pitseleh.

I am quiet now,
I am soft and everyone hears me.
I don't want to say anything,
I want you to look at me and know.
I want you to see my eyes and know I am infinite.

I wake up again and I am sweating,
it was the night terror, the one I have

I was surrounded by intellectuals,
the poets and artists of our generation,
all second rate ******* doing it for the applause and their mommys, same **** that was always done, since ******* Homer, since ******* Shakespeare, since ******* Ruddy Rimbaud.

I keep shaking,

Something is coming after me and I know it.

Maybe it's all the women I looked at wrongly,
one's from the ***** pictures big brother sold me,

Maybe it's all the sucrose and caffeine i've been inserting.

Maybe it's the nothings that i forgot to do, and others did instead.

I am a ******.

I never ****** no one.

******* is stupid.

I am one of the ugliest men alive.

When the saint ended us I saw infinity.

Everything was you, in you, by you, for you, the ******* hours and hours of thought, the stupid lengthy and complicated memories where you were christmas and we were meeting the ocean, all pointless and lost to oblivion and I lost it right then and there in front of you, I sobbed and wanted to **** myself. Then you gave me a *******.

I want to destroy you,
Break you bit by bit --

Show you a Universe,
Inspire you to your death.

Inflate you with hope,
Poisoned with beautiful ideas.

Drown you in an ocean of rebellion,
Choke on religion itself.

I want to destroy you,
Until you are yourself.

Plunge,
Plunge deep.
Feel the layers of soapy creek-beds,
Cross sections of the torrent,

Seep,
Watch the silent film,
As the sky divides into fantasy,
Light intended for your child-like eyes.

Fall,
Into a graceful autumn,
Where the corn smells and the wind picks up,
Where day-break questions existence.

Sink,
The expanse is waiting,
She sits in a blue velvet chair holding her head,
Counting the ticks 'till midnight on her golden clock.

Trust me,
And dive.
For I am vast and empty,
And far from shallow.

"Hmm..."



"What is it?"



"Ya know those sweethearts?"

"Those what?"
"You know, those little candies you can get around valentines that'll have like 'I love you' or 'be mine' and stuff on them."
"Yeah...What about 'em?"





"Well, sometimes they don't have anything on them. They're just like a forgotten wordless misprint..."






The leaves were crunching against our feet. Our beautiful feet. I was cold and I knew exactly what I was saying. I smoothed my hair and with a slow bright toned whisper, I said,
"...the misprints are always the best..."

As a poet,
You let yourself go as a poet,
As a poet,
You let yourself go.
As a poet,
You let everyone know you're a poet.
As a poet, you let yourself go,
And then everyone knows, as a poet,
You let yourself go.

With the few words left within me there is something I fear I must write. Beauty is everything, art is justified. It was a hard battle, but art has won. Dionysus takes the cup: Apollo, in a blaze of wonder and irony, has fallen, for this space is for dreamers, not for rationalists. Reason shall come shortly, but soon there will be no need for reason, I can assure you. First I must scorn in the face of every critic, whose airy words tried to stamp the artifice down the whimpering and broken throat of the victor, which is the artist; I must point and laugh at the woman that shrivels at the sight of moral beauty, and the man that seeks entertainment, rather than enlightenment, for you are all fools and cuckolds to your well-loved rationalism.

AND THUS WAS HIS REASONING

Beauty and truth both lay dormant in every soul that has walked the Earth. Every aesthetic piece gives breath to its own truth. Truth, because it is admired, admired, because it is truth. Expression, the holiest form of satisfaction, is then simply the application of the beautiful thing, which is art. In this realm nothing is proven, but everything is felt. This is art. This is truth. This is beauty. This is rebellion. This is nothing. This is everything. This is art.

…I start ‘here’ and I walk.
I pass ‘them’ and I pass wonders and it snows.
The sun comes down and possesses the ground and hits me and it snows from the sun warm snow. White and eerie. Great things were raised only to be razed. My fly’s eye saw a stone, in the field, by the brook. Corner and leaves too. The bitter bit me and there were trees that were dying and that made them beautiful. I drew them a bath. I laid them down. Coming down from the sky was a great white coffin. I saw behind me a viper that killed a squirrel to save a rabbit, a squirrel that was afraid…
…I start ‘here’ and change my road,
I know where I’m going. I know my destination. A vision passes through me and a red candle holding a black flame lit me to be bright, but I only burned. A dust bowl roared through it all and I sunk. I walked and walked and I let it take me. Forget it all! Again and again I came down through the valley, I saw it, and I couldn’t care. The flowers and snow and sun and life absolutely poured out their hearts for me and I couldn’t care, because I had seen them all before, and I know them all too well. AHH!! OF COURSE!! OF COURSE!!!! JUST IN TIME! Of course, I saw it coming. At the center, right in the middle, you know what I find?! You. You just sit there waiting. No matter where I start, or what direction I go, I walk and walk and I find you…
…I start ‘here’…

I matter.
Underline that statement and back up, no one matters.
Do black lives matter or do all lives matter? No life matters, next question.
Do you love me? Who doesn't.
Will I die? Will I.
Is life worth living? Is death worth dying.
Does reality exist? Is existence real.
How long does it take to pop popcorn? In a microwave or on the stove? In the microwave. About 2 to 2 and a half minutes.
How do boats float? They use water
How do boats sink? Water uses them.
Deserve? None.
Su or in? None.
How? Why.
Question? Answer.
Dialogue
Dialogue
Doubt.
Evidence.
Disagree
Disagree
Agre­e
Unagreable

in  the  heat  of  the  winter ,
on  the  cool  cool  grass ,
the  center  of  Indiana ;  
the  center  of  the  country ;
the  center  of  the  world.
I  spat  blood  on  the  white  wh­ite  sidewalk,
for  I  was  dopdi ,  and  I felt  wronged.

Death, is a precious beauty.

The hang glider comes from her mountain with the water of the gods to feed the foe, the toad that linches and seethes, sticking gratitude to her heart. Why is he? He should have been, but now he's gone. Shoot the white haired lady, she feels no pain,

I want lightning, a meaning, a triumph that sells pills to me in the back of a dusty van in the night, I want white hair and a balding mind, with nothing but you and your dye.

You are the poet's parts, it covers him. I am no one, and I think you know that. You can never be with me because you are in a slow decent into adulthood and I am becoming a child. I must understand, but there is pain.

White-washed hairdresser with a meaningless smile, Call me your man, listen to the words I say. I am loud and boastful, like a great animal I scream the truth. I have no home like the wounds, come all ye faithful, words are quite clear.

I want you.....
I want you..... so bad.
It's the delta blues I couldn't ignore.
There is meaning in the, there is a saltiness I can't ignore. Where is truth and the squabble? Where is understanding and the sacred? I soak in warmth, I bask in the insipid stories of deadly man and heartache and nothingness,

Gone, like a symbol, new, like the universe. Stocking that rip under my hands, real...

Touch, a gentleness, soft, harsh, and cold, be thee alone. Call no one, say NOTHING. Jealousy manifests, liver, the hardest stone, Give me up, I truly have no use. Women are ***-dumpsters, thus sayeth the LORD. I think God's got timber in his eyes. The Great Triumph! sings like a hamster dying on a pinwheel. I really don't know what I know, but I'm glad for abstractness. There is meaning, there is anti-truth. Speak without wind. Death, pere, night, ear, truth, punk, stop, rire.

I laugh because there is no other way of ridding myself of this filth. The caress of a gentle mind comes in stages, like cancer. The ****** in the 5th key speaks with dialect and analect. Into-go, fantastical, a  spectre,

But I guess I don't much believe in ghosts.

Bring me closer,
Closer than I've ever been.
Here is the mountain,
Here is the valley.
There is the sun and she is fertility.
There is the moon and he is wrath.

Let me remember the
songs of the old ones,
of jollity and sanity,
of truth and of vanity,
voiceless.

He split love,
And we kiss in the light,
And we think in the dark.

But then infinity arrives,
uninvited, drunk again,
slurring and mixing,
bringing back a shattered mess.

At the plateau we meet
and there not even math
can hurt us.

The eyes see beyond beyond now,
Past the words,
Past the symbol.

Then enters the thirst,
An evening,
A cold light,
The empty everything,

And a Sterile drama,
A paradise,
Smoke n' mirrors,
Caves n' shadows,
And a new outlook.

Its what I feel at midnight, no more mind left and no more time. Tomorrow perhaps, only to find there was an imbecile 500 years ago that did it all already. Well, we're all fools, and walking shadows. We're slaves, because we only sleep 7 hours a night and we can't recall a **** conversation when the entirety of humanity depends on it, and we can't spell because we have mental defects. No more patterns, no more sighing, no more acting! The world really is a ****** stage. Can love save us, can work ethic, can anyone save anyone from their manically depressed reality? There's no flame left in the sun, the only thing that is unbearable is that nothing is unbearable. Everything fits into place, no brain is worth bleeding for. They destroy poetry because they don't like it, because no one can understand it, but I can understand it and I want integrity not a herd of sheep. Our death is determined by a quarter inch piece of plastic.

Go read your lolicon you ****** infant! Impress the primates with your big boy lingo and bottle an emotion, excrete a dialogue, call it ******* art. The coffee here smells like tobacco, and tastes like it too. I thought I liked love but I just want something real. But what is the theme? South African radicalism? Come my droogs let us speculate of the falling walls and crumbling symphonies, the dystopia I hide my cutter in. I saw them take away experience, take away love and replaced it with java script, I watched it happen. Soon we’ll all be binary and who am I to stop change.

We don't know who we are because PDA is discouraged, and anyway, you're a woman and those are scary. We need a permit for passion, it's the bureaucracy of the body, a product of the new guy. The guy that keeps questioning himself because no one else does, because meaning may not derive from the self, but from another. The sea within has shallow banks, and they crash against community. Perhaps I am right, and you are wrong. Integrity is worth fighting for, biology be ******, logic be ******, judgement be ******. This subtle society is a dystopia and if you can't see that, that's alright, I'll see it for you.

The animal 'neath a-thousand mirrors-----
Science~
Just a word
Life~
Just a thought
Death~
Just an absence
Jesus~
Drinks absenthe
I~
Is another
Her~
She's rubber
An' bends... bends.... bends    ,
The animal 'neath a-thousand mirrors,
Flustered on-looker, speak to me, tell
me of the signs, of your revelations,
Explain God to me
Let's convert eachother,
Flustered hair rubber.

He set logic in the field
and emotion he stuck in our bellies,
where we were to throw up our poetry and
endlessly toil for truth.
Gilded with a helm of instinct
we had nothing but the howling
wind to guide us...

...Now in the days of
Nathk-ame-l there were
unicorns and ******* oats
everywhere.

Your passing was a gift to me,
Wrapped in colors I couldn't see.

And after every page I let fall out,
Everything looked better.

When there's nothing else to say,
Tomorrow is today.

SOCIETY: The Musical!

I say, "Hellow!"
and you say "hy."
We're so mellow,
Or maybe shy.

We come from a different point of view
Somehow i feel like i'm a part of you
I love mankind, like we all want to do.
Intention is the law.

Relating to laughter will make you fall.
We are a temple of the Holy Ghost and we won't fall!
Rise from the ashes,
Rise from the flames.
You great Phoenix,
YOU MYTH OF ATHENS.

We are the masters of our own poverty,
The author and the finisher of our poem.
Make your poem great.

Philosophy is for the mediocre
Mediocracy is in our blood.
The poor give a sermon to the rich.

Poetry made physics weep:
The sun is more than gravity and heat...
The poor know that much.

And by the Grace of God
I speak the truth,
And the peace of attaining no goal
Ohhh..! Hope and long for it!!!
For it is the end of endings
And the beginning of Forever.

Again, I am in front of a ghost. I remember the days when I lived in a spaceship, and there was that white rat, that beautiful white rat, whose hair was so black and whose bones were sickly. Black Jacket, Red Pants, curse-words from mother mary herself.
I wanted to draw. I miss those days. My salad days. And sometimes I fall in love with the poet and I'm aesthetic, but yet, there is beauty in a mathematician.

You never know where God will be. I see her now, spreading her wings like some kind of Icarus, she sees me. Now I see him in a café, hat on head and young too.

“Hello”

“Let it be what has been.”

Thou… thou shalt disturb me.

It’s not conformity to believe the truth. Life is small and there’s nothing wrong with caring about chairs and people, and old people and dead people, it’s healthy even. I saw a picture of the Holocaust, and I wept so *******. I saw the frozen bodies and the toothpictures and the dark bodies and I wept. Do not joke!!!! Can you not see that I care! I care so much. I love these people and I love thou, and surely thou should loveth me. In absolute horror I wept for the sake of the sacred I curse anyone who dare even joke! Laughter solves nothing, I would much rather cry and I want to die in the summer so the worms may have a feast and the baring sun will wilt me, I want to go out with a bang! Let death **** you, do not hold it inside and let it freeze you, set yourself free, let your hair down.

I want to be able to turn on my side and look you in the face and whisper, "goodnight." I want to be able to kiss you, right then and there.

I remember the time you told me you bought black lipstick, it was like someone had me upon a torture rack and I missed you like the night misses the sun and I don't care how lame it sounds, the truth is unstoppable.

You seem to know everything. I know you don't let on but truthfully you are far beyond me. You have so much wisdom and you end up teaching me more than I thought existed.

You have problems. You caught the blues. I give you my ear and you give me silence, sad sad silence.

And I know it doesn't seem like it, and I know it seems like I have no reason to, but I love you. I really really do. I see you and you're a mirror. A perfect mirror.

∀x∃y | x+y > 0

In the rain, I fell in love with the rain.
Golden-gal with electra complex,
For all the years I told myself
I was the villain...

Inside your mind, I fell in love with your mind.
I was behind a goodbye, by then,
And nothing could come to save my sin,
save sin,
And alas the lass is electric...

Recalling the past, I fell in love with the past.
Somewhere seems a cloud in the mirror
but how, but how, but how would I know?
Change is the delta, and my heart's
the delta blues:
     "me an' the devil;
     sittin' side by side."

The best age, was the Stone Age.
When someone asks me,
How old are you?
I reply,
Stone.

Skip easily
tip contact
Hope and despair.

"Darkness?"
"Yes, darkness."
"I miss you."
"I miss you like I miss the summer in the winter;
like I miss winter in the spring; fall when I'm empty;
like the moon: The cold florida moon.
I miss you like I miss my childhood.
I miss you like I miss time."

"It's just a collection of dots; time."

"I know. Everything is time; we are all a collection
of dots."
"We are empty."
"We are time"
"and time is empty"

"But what's to say we're not time?"

"A simple fact: motion is always measured over time.
Physically speaking, nothing 'is' without time."

"But aren't we more than physical?"

"Maybe...Just maybe..."
"It's better than being nothing."
"Yeah, but it's too easy, I don't buy it."
"You don't have to..."

Availons twain twixt thus brighte biste
Hestorienne devoureed Christe
Holloe tou tu esn't et est.

Louvre, Le Louvre ist mi.
Bootes of sootes clamour shouerin'
Flouer in heand, beautie en Maie, Marche und Aprille.
Mama et moi no us or tu terrile.

Caspidate, inspedre, endre, spedistor, fouallona, mortalivus, vieliefe.

Good God, just confess already!!
I love... Ilove... Ilive, lie, liove, lovie,
She kissed me once on my cheek, deadly and deathandmorteanddeadandlifelessandvieless and now i love her, i want... ive never loved anyone, but now i know. I'll name him Theo, because of our God complex and i love you.

"Oh Monsieur!
OH MONSTER!!"
Cindy:
Her veins and arms bulged
with irreversible damage.
One day she caught fire;
She is still burning,
In heaven she is burning.

Names meant nothing during ****
"What is in a name?"

The night is blank, like venison.
John Wesley Harding held my hand through the river.
The end is nigh.
Tomorrow things will be different, things will change.
I have so much passion, it's a curse.
I'm tired of tomorrows. I'm tired of being a fool.
I don't want to be a walking shadow.
I was born a walking shadow, so I was doomed from the start.

I find myself in love with everything and nothing but confusion  to show for it.
I see myself and I am a small patch of existence. I question myself.
Why do I care about something so insignificant?
Why do I love her and hate him. I once despised strong emotion, but now I've learned to be rude and decisive.
Now, for the sake of heart, I must forget what I've learned.

I was born yesterday, it's a fact.
Running down the mountain is the green of the Earth, the metaphor of life. Pouring out itself is the wind, singing softly an echo of eternity. Rising from the sky a great pillar, and a message therein embedded presupposed perpetual motion.

There is good, and there is evil. There is life and there is death. There is creation and there is destruction.
Destruction has so much power, for everything is in constant decay, and yet, creation wins. Though people die, life wins in the end. Sure, it's optimistic, but I don't care!

I see you now...

Hair over your beautiful face, and you tell me,
without saying a word... you tell me....

I was in love with the wall
I spoke French to it.
"Je t'aime." I'd say
In my loveliest French accent.
"Je vais aimer jusqu'à mon mort."
But then I figured those
We're some pretty powerful
Promises to make to a wall.
I loved it so much and I didn't
Want to hurt it. I knocked it
Down and rebuilt.
Now I sit here alone writing
Boolean clauses to ease my
Suffering.
3>1; true
3=1; false
7<4; false
23>100000; true
23 was her favorite number.
The misprinted sweethearts
are always the best.

We strike up conversations,
A spark of dying flame.
Kindle built from imitations,
Glee is folly and a game.

Bootless is our falsity,
No one knows our name.
****** be outward chastity!
****** be this wretched game!

My only joy is being true,
My only sorrow lame.
Lame I am, and lame it is,
I'm crippled by a game.

I'm gonna run away from humanity.
Stop eating, defecating, urinating,
consuming, moving, dying, lying, loving,.........(the samsara subset; with a cardinality of the continuum)
I'll take a long good look at God and say,
"Thanks for the apple mate, but I've got bigger fish to fry:
Thanks for the life, but it wasn't all it was cracked up to be."

There was a telephone booth
next to me which I promptly
occupied. I stood there waiting,
wading in my brain seizures.
Someone came an knocked on
the glass saying, "Hey man,
I need to use that thing!"
"I'm waiting!" I say.
"Waiting for what?"
"A phone call from God."
The reply sent shivers down
the spine of the receiver,
sending some kind of
illegible morse code.
The telephone line spoke in tongues.

If you couldn't tell, I'm a pretty jolly fellow.
Fun to have at parties, where I practically **** at all the mirth.
Not because I'm some kind of offset of Richard III, where it's some kind of "winter of discontent," I'm not some kind of scrooge ******* myself out of happiness! it's a much deeper objection.

If you must know, it's because of the trees.
It's life that makes me love death.
It's the beautiful that makes me ugly.

Girl, reading loric! Archbishop is very impressed by the big bottle of the so - called emotional problems; The taste of love, such as cigarettes and coffee. I think i love you But I want the truth. what happened? Violence in South Africa? I was surprised that we expected the wall to fall and broke his symphony discopia to hide me. I see that they are trying to find love and replace the browser with JavaScript at any time. We all changed, I will do binary.

Let me close
I can see again
mountain
This is the valley
Sun on their products.
Moon and rage

You remember me.
Music
Calm and cautious
No true
Plants.

He was involved in love.
light kiss
We believe that the dark

But it is not over
In the case of sugar, heavy
mud Mixer
I hurt.

We came together in the Senate
There is no mathematics
It can hurt us

Your inconvenience, ******,
Is worn like a frown on your face.
I need a stern kick in the head.

And you're destitute, Destiny,
And reek like flowers, floorboards,
And nosebleeds.

And you ain't true, Faith,
You love him, and I'm broken,
Your machine is commendable. Truly.

You feel nothing, I feel it for you.
I bear your troubles like a Christ,
And you hate life, but I love it, and I love you.

But I'm a toad, Princess,
And my love is a spell,
And it spells discomfort.

tooth
rhyme
seal
parade
enamel:
ammunition
axis
body
seal
Luo
oil­
Cats


"Under jurisdiction"

Lecture;

Rolling My  Bakers Snow
Hot Melancholy Life ^ Hinoki y
  Crown Yo Yorozu Yugi Quantity Warning  "Amount "  ... " Thinking"
3  hot summer 3D solid "nose" "three cement adhesives"  "... sacrifice"

Kiyoshi Kiyoshi

T Hot  Takashimas Abalone  Yoga  
One ... Category ^ Dan ‡  Mo 5 heat  )
V  "  

old
Accumulation
" Paragraph "  "Ashi  roaryo  one"
En  
As P
S  Week drinking g. "At the feet of the nose I am excited to hit the northern part.

SU SEPTEMBER                     9 months ago imprisonment for punishment

oil

Megumi "Orodori" wheat "" "

revenge

F  Mark  Life S 5

Life Heat Nickel Lucky Heat Paradise f Respect  Ivepai ... Two Signs]

I 2  CR  Free ñn ina²; 2 X trout advertisement. F War: Energ X Ichin X
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field
Troubled wings

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Libro! Res.  Mes

3 "Amount ..." Yoshio "5 Nyoyaku:" L Temple Heat G  Time S 1

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"Kaji" Paradise "Dan"  "" Denpaku Ban "Heat" Festival " 2" ... • f Burning 3 S 2   g Syg 5  "5" ... " Slave D Thermal ^ 5] Living Par 3


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Mie kanji  "Mand"  "...  Fujio F"  Ji Ri f "Shima" ... Yo  refreshing burning Lee  S "True"  "I   One"              
Art "..." "Whispering" Hot  "Earrings"  Dia ia Three "Ninko Futmusu "Jen" Yo Yona V Baby ... y  Visit  ... "Ding"



}: V ...                                                        3
Scorpion D Foot Hot Topic Yo Doornon Hot  55  Sotetsu   Shonen Paradise Life overview 5

3  "Two Weng" "O" ... Tunja Hot "Excitement of Birthday"  depression "f"
Say yuu wing  life  "  alive   " alive " rumor "" raw "... fog" ... " alive"
"7 y no  hosho  coast  rf> Tate 5 Nagashima paradise" "Paradise ..." "Hot weather y" dan y s "

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Y W] Gobo ["Yo" y ^ Category y  Campomo  "Basket" ... 3   Skin  Kirara
Living " kind of dragon 3 N ... accumulation of **** Dragon 3
G glience g depression
twin Korea T stone saw asleep letters Ninininini
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Venge  Sono Plaster Kokumi Wo 3  fake accident  f Ko  first life Tsubasa Pass  Poison  ... ... ...  ugly Offshore
food
3 Weapons of algae.
thickness

\\
\\\
\\\\
simply me,
simply you,
simply staring at the blue.

serenade,
singing songs,
singing to the calming dawns.

seven years,
sixty six,
seventh eon, burning wick.

start again,
start anew,
simply staring at the blue.

I cough up blood like words of
love to the limpless scandal
counting question marks on her
fugly face.
I throw up food like a volcano
that screamed justice and the
magma missed jezzabelle, the saint.
Cosmopolitan Freakshow,
A deluge sans answers,
An empty box.

Warts appear like the truth
which remains.... well.....you
know all about that don't you.
Go on, we all wait for God
but he'll never come, ask
the King, but then again,
who does he answer to?
I answer to this fever,
this muse of Dante,
I answer to my sins,
Like the State of Nature
to her dues.
And then I eat the
medicine, which is philosophy,
A poison which cures a day,
but ends a lifetime.

I.
"Rip it off."
A mother tells a child
"If it itches, scratch it."
"If its ugly, replace it."
The end of skin.

II.
Love at first sight is reserved for the Bones.

III.
The irritations of the skin have become unbearable. My arms are bare. I want my skin to be the skin of another. Our hidden hides prevent contact.

IV.
"Good ridens"
I see a band-aid on the sidewalk.
I see a burned man sans skin-graph.
I saw beauty, but she was plastic.

V.
There is an epidemic of the epidermis.
We need honesty, but all we get is skin; the ugly forefront of the truth.

Saturn must rule me.
no, no, nevermind, I'm absolutely mean!
Do you like windows or mirrors?
Are you reflective or empty?
...
You could have just asked me!
I don't know, I just don't know
what to say sometimes.............
You could just say it!

I'm ready to run!
Oh baby I'm ready!
I'm gonna charge Olympus,
let 'em look me in the eye
and convince them I've been wronged.

I'm gonna take a trek to desolation
and from the valleys to the maintains
I will raise hell.

I'm gonna tell my sheets to
stop scaring me.

I'm gonna speak in tongues,
shake my body and dance!


I'm dying, but before I die,
I want to live!!

There's too much judgement in the world for me to follow my heart.
And the heart's too delicate to be judged.

The chemical dust of rain shot its soul onto the stop sign, which blew sideways from the opposite facing caravans of new thought, "The Thoughtless Carol." Caroling into the night to Ebeneezer who rejected the cold Florida moon echoing over its waters, shooting fireworks into the rainbow cured sour sky which was busy writing its suicide note, being fed up of the proses it didn't deserve. "Life is overrated." It said as it met its maker who replied, "I know what you mean..." There was a hurricane, or at least a harsh wind that scattered the hanging tree ashes around and we drove and gladly crunched over a youngly corpse and hit every deer and "dear life," which decided to look for loved and lost on the highway, "The Lost Highway." Yes I believe Hank hit the mark with that one. And the waves shook me and I awoke to a dream or maybe life and reality, if those words could ever truly be defined. The American flag whipped its tail and dipped its fresh ideas into negative pH leveled acid, corroding its stripes and bleeding the stars into a thirsty, scraggly ground which gladly ate the bits of ethnocentrism, stopping the grass from growing. Why? Because I had only twenty-some letters to choose from and these are the only words that should or could be made. The only words that ever deserved to be written. And I'm pretty sure this page is going to hang itself, because this is like the most boring poem ever and I'm a boring poet:
"A Poem's Suicide!"
"The Slit-Wrist Prose!"
"The Toaster-Bath Ode!"
"The Overdosed Elegy!"
"The Free-From-Life Free-Verse!!!!"

I salute no flag, I follow no man
I am undisciplined; an expatriate; a mutineer.
I am not consumed. I believe in Infinity.
But so what?

It's a hell of a lot better than casting stones into the abyss of life, which only cries back in a tune of some ever-pervading samsara, whose only note was proof for Hamlets second conjecture; counting your days, numbering the stars, feeling pleasure only to one day die a purposeless death; guilty.

Jesus said everything in red ink,
the bible tells me so.

Freedom can only be given to those that are bound.
It is both a fact and failure of nature.
Our power binds us;
Our lack of power binds us.
We are enslaved on all sides:
By the infinite and the finite.
And yet we are set free
by this selfsame fact.

******* is what I live for, necrophilia is what I die for.

A man buys a ticket for a show.

The Ticketman says to him,
"I know when the show must start,
and when it must end
and what the audience will wear
and be seen wearing,
but these thing I will not reveal to you."

"How then, will I know when to go?"

"You must be ready always."

So alone he waited for the show to begin,
the costly play upon the narrow stage.

But alas,
his patience had run thin.
He argued with himself,
why did the ticketman deny him knowledge?
making his mind think and his patience thin?

"Mr. Ticketman, may I ask you a question?"

"You already have."

"Why do you deny me the knowledge
of when the show must start
and why do you keep from me
the number of people that will go?"

"...If you were to know these things,
then all would soon know it,
and the show would be crowded
and be full of unwantings."

"Yes, but if only I was told,
I would not tell another,
so long as I lived,
for I would like to know
when I must come, so I can be free
and do what I want before the starting."

"And what is it that makes you so
special from the rest?"

"I have a wish, and I have a feeling.
I want in a deep way, in a very deep way,
to know these things and every day
I thirst and yearn for this simple knowledge."

"All do, you as the rest."

"BUT PLEASE! I HAVE WEPT! Do you not see me weep?"

"As have all."

"I Prithee!!! I am shaking, I shake. I have ululated
in the night and screeched with the force of a
thousand lions."

"As have all."

"Oh! I beg of you! I cannot handle this! I cannot handle it!"

"Nor can any."

"Oh, have mercy! I have a love for freedom, oh I have such a burning desire for freedom. I have cut and cauterized myself and died a million times over! I have called for executioners, I wish to die biting there gut butts! EXECUTE ME!! I have melted in the alleys of the night and I have burned like a star when thinking about, no! Becoming, the heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night. I have seen heaven, I have seen hell. I have seen all things sacred and worthless. I know God. Oh yeah, I know him well. I know his name. I know what you are and who you are! I know you!! You fiend! You self-righteous fiend!!!! TELL ME OR I'LL ******* OFF MYSELF!!!! YOU BEAST!!! YOU ******* BEAST!!!!!!"

"Likely story."