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machina miller Jun 2017
bestow my grips with candid strength
i quench and i quench but
the thirst always returns
if I could lift this libidinous weight
i would only return it to my shoulders
yoga festival yoga pants
machina miller May 2017
i will rub the liniment of self-made into my soul or else i get the hose again

coral and porous
i walk spotless through anemones
and crystalline sea floor forests

allergic to tree ***** and tiny green armies of self-propagating space dust

inimitably flippant
bourgeoisie teetotalling kommandant
gone in a puff of turmeric
lifted to the world of spirits like a vestibule on a scissor-lift
construct more pylons
machina miller Apr 2017
sometimes i think i see the bubbles of the infinities in-between things
but i don't
i have brain trauma
doot doot
machina miller Mar 2017
i'm the hirsute nectarine man
i speak soft streams of exegesis phonemes
i've got the mob in my hand,
they've got the cops in their pocket
hand me the cash! hand me the cash!
i'll take over the world!
i wanna get high!
i want my legs to be hundreds of feet long
and my **** to swing around my knees!
shove it in your face! shove it!
i am the archon!
i am the agelessness of ontology!
i watched the moutains crumble to dust
and i laughed, and i pressed the big red button!

my nightmare isn't any dreaming place
it's heaven on earth
what a wonderful world
where the sicknesses can come to play
where the tommy's and dandy's can frolic
and all the cats can get ******
and the warlords all chortle
and the bric-a-brac is never stolen!

i live in an amusement park
my soapbox is full of holes
but they just let the sun shine in
on the flowers i've planted at my feet
i'll sing my song to the baseboard corners and build a big beautiful scripture for all the rats in the alleyway
machina miller Feb 2017
the anti-siren alarm song
collapses the dimensions of the oneiric realm,
fidgeting infinitesimally,
the tangled engine of acidic tubes
combusts last nights pepperoni bacon chorizo pizza

all of sparta trembles
stalagmites shake loose and dust the bedclothes,
cemented eye-lashes decalcify and split,
as two stumbling gargantuan steps
off the promontory of your bed
lead an unguided hand to the light-switch

the florescent hum gnaws at you
a singular parameter in the speaking mind's running mouth
“caffeinate me”

a hill, no, a mountain, no, a sheer abyss
'the stairs', a godly ascent
an ascent for winged creatures of light
creatures with legs for arms, zeppelin-like centipedes
legs whose construct are Dalían,
nightmarish vaulting apparatuses,
whose step is a bound and whose bound is a flight,
as if all of the thirteen foot-tall steps become cliffsides
and all of the cliffsides become interdimensional worm-holes
as the distance between two mustard seeds grows
and exceeds the circumference of the universal ellipse
we see our premonitions are of infinite potentiality.

resignedly, we take the first step
the next twelve follow succinctly.

we reach the ochre chamber of caffeine
only to be halted by a question
a sempiternal question,
a question of mythic, unverifiable stature
a plaguing question,
a question rooted
in our achey-breaky hearts and nigh-arthritic bones,
rooted in the seeping pathos
of our ritualized morning zombie-shuffle:
but it doesn't get asked today, we drink coffee
the world is right-side up again.
"before the sun rises the world is upside down
this i will prove with the informal, childish logic of prose"
machina miller Jan 2017
I ***** my tongue
on the tip of this query
I drink salt-water from the goblet
through dry cracked lips

for surely it must follow
because I am lead by the nose
by sickening diaphanous rhythms,
coerced to contort

how flagrant must be my penitence
transcendental in inverse,
from upon my oaken tower
pitched, tarred and alight!

shall I make fetishes of my motions
maybe I will castrate myself on public television
cackling madly into the broadcast
bearing the thorny fruits of my loom aloft

I do not know where to go
this does not seem like my home
I feel alien
I swallow too much air

there is a dullness to all edges
I hear breaking glass in every noise
what paralytic sickness is this
that not innervation but violence possesses me

I would be the wolf that eats the world
and not the seeds in every pod

but the sun also rises
so the wolf does lie
machina miller Jan 2017
the brisk apprehension which reveals itself undramatically when discovering an attractive stranger is nearby

terse patience, pursed-lips in wait for coffee

showy play at excitement over treating oneself, dissipating quickly

anxiety or distaste, a demure fusion

formality aimed at impressing or at least operating with satisfactory tact

contentment

the energy of ****** tics, juxtaposed with the calm cessation from them. atypical normalcy

a dominating forehead crowning a ethical work cherubim

attentiveness groomed by an excitative conversation partner

flipping through a rapid succession of channels of expression, all eager

natty blond dreadlocks with oblique visage are opaque smog preventing getting an accurate read

conceit with fatigue or boredom with intelligence are synonymous but not definitive, a tendency towards being opinionated is the only thing else hinted at
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