Je suis tres bien
je pense,
mais aussi tres triste.
Je ne sais pas,
ma tete est tres comble de problemes,
comme
"porquoi je suis tres bizarre?"
ou
"a quel temp nous sommes manger?"
Tous mes amies sont tres belle
mais les garcons ne me pense pas,
ils aiment mes amies.
Je dis "d'accord"
mais je suis triste,
c'est possible je ne veule pas l'attention
mais je ne sais pas.
C'est possible
je suis un etranger.

Is there a doctor in the house?
I think I'm having southern withdrawl symptoms
shakes and such
brain a blubbering mess
why give one so much feeling
if they can't get rid of it healthily?
Too much for one body to handle
maybe throw in another personality
nothing bad ever happend
just a technical problem during manufacturing
a wire connected wrong
or not connected at all
amygdala super sensitive
looking for comfort in wrong places
stupid faces
blazing aces
therapists are kind but really need a map
words only convey so much
can't help if they can't understand
whose fault is that?
Probably the broken robot
me
doesn't speak in proper vernacular
accustomed to being freakish and safe
greasing joints with *****
circuit boards of tofu scramble
electric feed back every once in a while
when I cough
perhaps new meds will calm overactive internal reactions
or maybe being all vulnerable to candy hearted young men
spilling secrets and insecurities to friends
but they'll all leave
right?
Europeans had no problem taking over lands
staying with natives
eating their foods
but if the natives had shared their deepest secrets and feelings
pilgrims would have gladly returned home for persecution
than to put up with an emotional Squanto.

"Let me be your home" she said
it's all she could offer,
just peace of mind and comfort of familiarity.
"Is the rent high?" he asked
joking, in a way,
also making her seem like she had a price to be haggled
they were in like
and liked things so.
Spaniards in space-
that's what these two were,
just a couple of conquistadors
navigating relationships and apartment listings
ended up in her heart
view of the lungs
things were good,
she made breakfast, he did dishes
they visited the brain every now and then
see the scenery
museum of neurons
they love that stuff
rightfully so
they lived quite happily ever after
in her heart
until the attack-
then things got weird,
but their love survived the paplitations and cholesterol
they could survive anything.

Monsters make marvelous pets
and friends
and gods
don't need to be scaley
just powerful
enough to crush bone or spirit
enough to spit logic into the wind
splat in faces
take up spaces
non-believers, over-acheivers
angry beavers
all the same really
made of carbon and hope
floating through the time line
expanding and contracting with the seasons of the universe
be the bee
the ruins on mountains moved with seismic surges
survived storms
bend in the breeze
scream obscenities
loader than sound
faster than sight
perception deception
cartoonish *******
and that is how
the world is made.

Mind a steel trap
stealing thoughts and memories
cars and high chairs
the Shang Dynasty of "The" great wall
never once said
"What if I can't?"
they only said *****, please
let's build a wall to the moon
Nepal wanted to join in on the fun
captured children like Hansel and Gretel
fed them their own feces they puked for weeks
no candy here
just cold hard abs
rippling
like the ocean
tye-dyed head stones
skipping graves rather gravely
could you spare some change?
Nah man just some odors
re-ordering from Fed-Ex
exponential increase of refraction
reaction
all base
tickle me Elmo
and give me strength.

Catch a falling star on your tongue
soak in the gaseous matter
millions of years of history and marination
long ago
careers were optional
fictional
we picked apples and drank milk
big n strong farm folk
tire swings and moonshine
tractor disasters
Ford made robots of robots
gym class saw mills
ashes to ashes
well hello there my jumpy friend
not enough sulphur in your supper?
Tatted body guards in grass skirts
hubba hubba
let the shayman give us some insight
fire side and full of hallucinogens
we will see the future and past simultaneously
martians will be proud
shame on you jumpy junior
mince the words like horror-flick killers
jack of all trades
let this be the silk road to tradition.

I love the smell of toxic waste in the morning
licking gum off the floor
hopping off wagons and onto rabid rabbits
lemme get yo numbah
how much you got?
You on salary?
Get tips?
Wanna see me put my fist in my mouth?
I wanted to go to college
but sometimes life is funny,
you know
like a darkly written novel
adapted into an even darker film
then watched by a suicidal tween who writes the lines on his walls
fires burn but also give life
think of the forests
doubled edged pinky ring
nothing too dangerous
just thinking such things
stop being silly
stop assuming
***** that ***** who is perfect and has the attention of your attention
let's just have some fun and torch a bank
make sure the money is good and scorched.