none of that
"oh, you'll be fine"
crap,
give me the truth.
how bad is it-
am I?
would I be
the worst human being
in the sense
that I don't function
like a typical person,
but have some redeeming qualities
that render me
somewhat pitiable
if not
worthy of living
an equal life of opportunity;
I'm not a terrible human being
in the sense
that I wish ill will
on any
or cause chaos
or upset feelings
no
I am just terrible
at being a human being
and so
I live like I do
chasing the cats that nobody else
seems to see
and eating my meals
burned, outside
enjoying the company of crickets
more than
the people inside walls

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.

even when done
can still hold it together
we are one
you and us
me and them and you
the same form in the sky
sherry clouds and blue winds
it's a pretty little town
picket fences and jungle gyms
and you think to yourself:
just what in the blazes
is going on here?

To become one with all, one must lose
their ****, their wallet, their mind, their car keys
you must lose your sense of time and space so that it all becomes a dream
and you can't decipher up from left or hot from green
and you just sit
(or fall?)
until you fail and wail and bump against the grind stone 'til your skin errodes,
revealing muscle, which is weak when peeled away, to reveal
bone,  ground into flour for the cupcakes and bread et al.
Let their be fights, and strife
and lice and barium
because to accept all
you must love the disgusting, the heinous, and is that  what you want?
To accept all means to accept close mindedness, and chosen blindedness,
evils, weevils, steel easels,
do you really want that?
Yes.
Yes you do, if you want to become one with all.
I just want to forget the nulls and nuisances and sleep in peace and riot.

Theoretically
(not)
life will be changing more than I have ever previously known.
Home will be more relative
family depending on the location,
friends going far away and being introduced
dear God I'm scared
I'm scared of the distance
of the difference
just keep things the same
please?
Can't we just keep with the now
and never tell people good bye?
It's too painful
too unknown
what if you never see them again?
What if too much is never revealed?
Give me more time please
or just speed it up
stop with the ambiguity time!
I don't play well with new people
let's just keep the same ones!

Not one for sunshine, she preferred the shade. Understandable. Arizona can be a real ***** if you know what I mean. Even the cactuses are dried stiff and developed sun-callouses. She was tired of drinking sand in her water, sand in her air, lungs grity like dentist tooth paste. She was also blind, never saw the yellow of the sun but knew of the light, its brightness its harsh ways. She was aware of the prickly green cactuses, the rattle snakes with their innards cooking during lunch time. This woman wanted to live with trees now. Desert had been a past time to dream about during her youth, she heard of the bitter dirts and dry airs and miles of flat land broken by large mounds of mountain (that she never saw but trusted existed). Her nephew was a grown *** man, coming over every now and again to keep her some company while her company slowly reduced her hours, told her to lay off working, her bones were getting brittle, would snap, a hip would pop, and really the way she stared without seeing into their eyes was just a little unnerving. She hated her job. Hated her nephew, who even without seeing his face could tell he was a large, sweaty pastey guy who constantly wiped his face with a towel. She wasn't sad or unpleasant, just real, honest with herself and others in ways people couldn't quite appreciate just yet, not yet. Not until one day they realize all isn't peachy and fine, and that everything is insane, and then they realize the insanity is what makes everything worth living for anyway. She could see this. With no sight, she could see and she would smile, then frown because she could feel the curiousity of onlookers trying to figure her out. People weren't for figuring out, they were for watching and moving along as if nothing had ever happend. And in this way, she moved.

Sub-zero temperatures aren't conducive to photosynthesis
chlorophyll stuck in veins
freezing and thick, viscous
right-o
tips **** and ****
try to circulate nutrients
but nature cannot be altered
facts cannot be opinionated
tell that to the judge
small claims and chain gangs
game changing fame slanger
falling to the feet of the tall
once and for all
can't just sit and wait
procreate
at least *******
when all else fails
and it will
at least there are the simple pleasures
of air and light and sound
all around
and heightend senses of reality
and *******
and laughs, smiles
miles and miles
swimming in confusion
just want a touch
isn't too much
for a night on the town
lost, never found
alone in the dark
with another
not too long
just too right.

Got the shingles
the shakes
the quakes
and not in good ways
just old days
no pay, can't afford
to miss it
must do it all
and fast
before it's gone
I'm gone
nothing but a memory
that all else will forget
but have to be happy
yes
must do it all
jump from every cliff
scream every note
of every song
then make some up
and make some out
and make some love
and paint bodies colors that are too perfect for skin
too analogous
mix them all up
melt them
any way possible
must be quick
run
run until the molecules that make the body
fall apart from exhaustion
dissipate
become a part of the universe;
they will be dispersed
and each atom
each fiber
each silk string of theoretical maybeness
will know what has been done,
can tell an infinite number of stories
and they will each
be moments in time
replayed for the pleasure
of only me.

Pop it
like a weasel
can it rain in here
it's dark enough
hot enough
energized enough
it could storm
feel it
in the air
like molasses
kissing *****
mine is pretty sweet
thanks for noticing
sorry if you think
I'm a tease
my body and my conscience
want very different things-
which do you think is right?
Oh you don't care
do you
guess it's safer that way
I don't want to care either
I want to never think
just feel
but only if it's good
and only if we never speak again
or else
you must respect the hell out of me
or else
what a hypocrite I'd
am
be.

Jab in the ribs
splintered bones
fragments of teeth
what's that?
Oh, just some fun
you know
kids being kids and such
face of mush
punch me again
it's pretty ******* fun
like the feeling
of brain reeling
flash
hook
no oxygen
just reaction
blind survival
not mad
just slowly killing
a pal
a foe
fists of limitless power
next on deck is bigger
though doesn't want it
victory
life
more than I.

Expatriots await the nights in Kuwait
where the dingoes and dominoes and salamanders bait
the ladies in purple to their eminent doom
of sleazies and stabbings and babies in womb.
Don't get me wrong,
I enjoy a good time, if friends are around and we got a dime
or two
and a fire for the masses and we're shaking our *****
as if we are actually aware of the outcomes of our actions.
I know we haven't the slightest clue
what a Jesus Christ is, or if it hides under our beds at night
or if it was a Jew.
What's written in books can be written by crooks,
because literacy and knowledge are ******* beautiful
but can give one more confidence than the world has to share,
and the whole theory of Relative Pride falls to pieces when one has more self-efficacy than ability
and the children with their sweet little ideas and purity are not humble but fall victim to humility.
So what's in a name?
Letters, vowels, consonants and connotations
traffic tickets, family vacations
****** and protests (though not necessarily related)
teenage boys and ***** minds and those who have masturbated.
But who hasn't?
Those without names, or faces
or honesty or hands
probably have their members ******* in steel-spiked rubber bands.
I'll see you again in retox dehibilitation
and we can converse and create
while under the crutch of sedation.

Rumpled feathers wrinkled in time
switchfeet running on a half battery
a horrible situation if you aren't accustomed
but to the rest
an average day-
breakfast lunch and dinner
nutrients, calories, sustenance
cherry bombs make lovely sundae toppings
then all goes nuts-
kaboom, kaplow
may all the tall ones wear pin striped suits
and carry pinwheels
and pin buttons of political preference to breast pockets
out pops golden sunshine
rays of gamma and joy
proletariat eternity
cannot decide
between juvenile altercations
or the same ole same ole way of *******.

Too tired to sleep too stubborn to fight
eyes resist both closing and capturing pictures
leaving one (Me) to be in a state of zombified negligence and grump.
Sleepy funk, like dreaming a boring black and white
film covers retinas and lenses
brain swirls in intoxication of running on E
and not even the fun kind
just the Empty kind that needs some juice
or nap
or maybe just some lovin' from a certain someone ****
though that's a stretch
and muscles are currently too ****** to reach that far
or scratch broken ribs of progress or even to
drink much of anything
just trying to be happy
though one needent need to try
just breathe and try not to wish for the night
because today may be the last or next to last
and the uncertainty just causes more anxiety
so the cycle of strife rains on its acid and placidity
until finally I'll crash
or implode, or cry
and it'll be great
because breakdowns are necessary for life and peace and tranquilizing.

I think you disgust me
(most likely)
because I do not wish to enjoy you.
I chastise myself and my poor judgement
every time you cause that dreaded ***** smile on my lips.
And yet
it continues.
I think you instigate my anxiety
because your manners and unnecessary attentiveness
make my stomach squirm
in a most grotesque way
and I feel that I do not deserve such respect from such a sweet soul.
Oh, if I could,
I would hate you.
I would say terrible things to others,
but it'd be all lies
because you are all anyone could ever desire ,
a tragic example of how every male should behave.
I feel so inadequate, so vulnerable,
so terribly close and alone with you
that I must shove a barrier between us
and lust for a boy
who's as distant and hurtful
as me.

Shroomers
silly goons
why are they around-
sketchy friends to have
these foes
smoking out in public
not a care
he carries switchblades
openly cries
makes all uncomfortable
but he sells the stuff
right?
They're nice
to his face
and he's nice
to all he meets
but deep down
all can tell
this guy is trouble:
either we'll get in jail
or he'll get killed.
Inevitable
poor guy
so sweet,
who's to believe
his stories
been through hell
maybe
or maybe he's an actor
a pastor
wanting followers
ending up
alone
because none want to be associated
with one so
wrong.

Greens and blues and chills
what do you call
a person who is more than a person
less than a God
though relatively almost congruent
and just think
one day
it'll melt
a sweet, syruppy mess of delicate deliciousness
I can be
and he thinks it's lovely
not yet
but he will
I can teach him
it's worth it
I am
to be waited for
on
not hand and foot
maybe foot- in - mouth
if you think I'm so flexible
(he'll find out soon enough, that yes)
but it's all good
in the hood
work like a mother
paid like a cartel
laid like a brick
too sick
for emotional comfort
of sanity

Can you say
supercalifragilisticexpealodocious
on one leg
eyes closed
un-clothed
lick your tongue
on the run
from the other
the one and only
demon of the dark
none shall pass
lest it won't last
beats apon feets
wringing out sheets
paper crowns, tin foil gowns
hate this part
the after math
never so simple
when one plus one
equals
nothing at all
but memories
not even good ones
hurts to the pride
take it in stride
those who will won't be bothered
and those who
can't take a punch
are suckers til the end

Speak to me in a Russian accent
sound all angry and mean
then buy me a puppy named Tobias
and cuddle fer hours et hours.
I like 'em gruff
and dorky and sweet
and badass and lovely
and secretly love to write poems.
Do they tear up during The Notebook
and still love mountain biking and rock climbing?
Can he laugh at my weird jokes
and tell some of his own?
Maybe.

Where are the men?
Not the boys
the guys
the dudes
I'm talking "men";
I don't want a cowboy,
no guns or big cars,
though a gym membership would be nice,
a respectful m-a-n
quiet
passionate
willing to fight for love
to look a woman (me) in the eye
and say "I'm scared"
to cook dinner every once in a while
to write a heartfelt poem
and remember that you like wine and not beer,
to plan special dates for your anniversary
to treat you like the intelligent woman you are

I know they exist
maybe met a few before
I just wish
they could teach my heart
to stop pining
for a little boy
whose heart moved on before I grew up.

Father time abuses his starry-eyed children until lips split,
bruises leave teachers feeling uncomfortable and unnecessarily involved.
Drink up the rocket fuel,
burning makes aches evaporate like **** on pavement,
amending memories until they are only fuzzy recordings of grinning cartoon cats.
Smiles are happy, so true,
but mirrors do not act on impulse so yours must require some more work,
mine was slashed on eons ago,
back when the dinosaurs were glorious and people walked on all fours.
Grindgrindgrind
gnashing teeth and splintering calcium,
he took note of the emotion,
accepted
and moved along,
unharmed by reality
too ignorant to accept absurdity.
A smart lad, curious
he built me a tug boat
to tug along the rivers of consciousness
though I'd rather the alternative
of sweet sweet bliss
and a fistful of throats.

Freedom is
like earth to the shore
eats away, becomes part of
mosaic tiles of all
everything
pieces in every flavor
no not humans
not there
but anywhere
I can see
the perfect one it is for me
cut me loose
and like a bird
released
a messenger to the wild
listen to the fragments,
light and air and cold and trees
what are they all?
They are free:
free from the burden of choices, which
slowly erode
never showed
the passion in a moment's pass
barely contain my enthusiasm

Meet me in my mind,
we both know the way.
Always on time
and bearing gifts of lust and remorse,
shame and excitement
we dissect time and space
and staple  aluminum stars to the night sky
so that we can find a path
leading to the River Styx.
Cold and milky
we drink the water until,
almost bursting,
our bellies hang low to the ants and caterpillars
who climb up and up to tickle our chins
with their many furry feet.

We stop the forward motion of history
to pick the tiny blooms and pistils
off of dainty little flowers to prevent
their future disappointments
and arguments with offspring.

Oh how lovely,
in this darkness with its lightness,
to be inhaling your spirit
your you-ness
and all that you have experienced
to make my soul smile for a moment
and forget the pitiful nature of all else.

We sit
and chat
and my heart feels like an excited baby bird
grasping at regurgitated worm carcus.
We walk
your arm hairs graze my own follicles;
my belly oozes all kinds of warm lovely juices.
Is this love?
Inexperience?
Or am I resisting your prying affection?
You are much too nice
to be seen with the likes of me.

Sincerely yours,
The word of the day
Some could say,
If they had the right mind to speak such
And even if
Then and because
If there ever was
A fated line of will be’s
Would it include
Anything like this?
Like all of us, causing a fuss
In the muck of cerebral sludge
Just some lazy ole son-of-a-someone
We all are
I think
Don’t I?
Course not
If I did
Would I be
Here at all?
I would be
Out in the there
You know where,
The places I can’t see, don’t know
Because, ****.

Let me rest me head on your shoulder
such a good pal
am i annoying you?
Do you think my hair is messy
or my eyes blurry?
Am i talking too much?
Sorry i laughed too loud
i don't mean to be annoying
just the way i am sometimes,
i promise i'm not so bad.
Do you respect me?
i'm not a **** like the others
not at all
i won't even kiss you if you think i'm repulsive
do you still respect me?
i'm sorry
i'm sorry
sorry i touched you
sorry i apologize too much
just say it's okay,
that i'm not so annoying
am i?
i promise i'm respectable,
i'm just so sorry
i'm me.

Always wanted to
paint the moon
it's lovely
the way it glows
throws shadows
they say so,
its light is beautiful
much better than the sun's
which rules the excitement
the action
and yet
it's much better
to be
under the night light
of stars and silver
who needs gold
when melted breaths
surround you

life right
it's pretty crazy,
the kind of thing you can't make up even in your deepest of strangest of secret imaginations
it's like you want it to just stop, all slow down
and yet you can't help but feel curious,
wonder what's around the next turn of events,
oops you're unemployed
well guess what your car just broke down,
convenient, in a way
in others just perfect
karma has a funny way of playing little pranks on the innocent,
it's the unsuspecting who need to watch their backs
all the crooks have it figured out
***** the system hard enough in all the right places
never have to spend an unwanted dime a day in your alivlihood
life is like an absurd dark comedy
where just when you think the depressed young old soul has found their way
they are struck with a bus
on their birthday
while getting a phone call from a lost love
life is just beautiful
because in all that it seems to find our flaws and shove them in our faces
it has a way of teaching us
how to become better

oh
my
starry *** surprise
wanna know something good?
smoke wood
and then we can
dance all night
dance all night
to this
whatever
and then when it's over
we can just
collapse
and say
**** the world
because
for real doe
it's ******* crazy
but with the right attitude
almost worth experiencing

If you want to hear a secret
life isn't quite identical
anymore
the past is very long gone
today is an adventure
it's bizarre
waking up with rug burns
not certain what went where
and it's ok
if one person is a disappointment
leaves you hanging
and you feel unwanted
because many others can't even fathom this mentality
wouldn't comprehend
and yet
the ones you trust
want to believe in
can be irresponsible
and thus
life is strange
and it has no pattern quite yet
that isn't one hundred percent perfect

Got a problem?
I can make thousands
millions
all up in the ceiling
mosaic tiles
blue and gold
holding down the albums
memories so soft and sweet
buttercream to wisdom teeth
picking out the files with an ax
and you can ask
any fella on the street
what he thinks
he'll say he doesn't,
we're honest by nature
nomenclature
soggy,
**** sapiens forever
loving bones and gorillas
never feel ya
quite the same
as that time in the attic
with the static
in our brains
it was insane
the way we thought our thoughts
touched touches
with more
would have scored
had it not been for the spiders-
frisky little things
squashed em long ago
and that's why they don't have wings,
unnecessary condition
apparitions to trife
made a foxy wolf lick his chops
take Peggy for a wife.

He was none too cute
even in the dark,
the flashing indigo and yellow lights showing the hint of  possible redeeming ****** features.
Me thinks he was high,
me knows I was low,
down,
mind stuck in the muck thinking on a silly boy.
He appeared interested in dancing,
and hell, I love to dance
so we did.
I meekly allowed his hands on my waist
they were unintrucive, innocent even, right?
The sensation of man bones on my jeans was exhilerating and unfamiliar
and I felt so inexperienced but willing to learn;
the door to male touches had been opened and I never wanted to remember life before.
My body responded without the instruction of logic,
only feeling,
and I wanted to make him burn.
He, the nameless figure with ******* dragon chest tattoo and nasally voice;
he will not forget this great dancer.
And I did not forget
the one I tried to escape:
the one who would rather dance alone
than with me.

Freckles and tanned I will emerge
like Venus from the foam
hair all salty
and he'll be in awe
or he'll be checking out my friends
or he'll be checking out other girls
or he'll be asleep
oblivious to all
so seductive in his indifference
oh please
make his body not be so perfect anymore
make him unappealing
or me more so
at least catch his attention,
honestly not over him yet
getting closer
stupid abs........

Who are you
to keep being dumb
in a way that hinders your happiness?
It sure disrupts mine
to know
that your joy
cannot corelate
with mine
which is to be
not yours
but you won't have it
you won't have any
you sure won't have me
if I have any say
but I want you
to be happy
so that my selfish self
can sleep a bit more peacefully

Were there no stalkers or high school shooters in the 50s?
Or are social web sites just more influential than our parents think?
Did texts and tweets raise the *** drives and black out drinking?
Or is the thinning atmosphere contributing to mass judgement impairment?
It's strange
that we have a cure for small pox, can remove cancerous cells
but can't convince some to drive home sober.
It's fitting, in a way,
that Mother Nature has figured out a system to keep the human population relatively in check:
we have the technology to survive diabetes and malaria
but  access to delicious saturated fats is slowing down and stopping hearts from properly earning a living.
Progress has ended many terrible ailments and has expanded understanding and brains
but has also given more creative ways to be lazy and irresponsible.
A double edged sword, with most likely more benefits than setbacks,
we have all become hypocrites under advancement.
We learn of the monstrocities in far away places we will never see,
yet still do the very things that contribute to its existence.
Sweatshops?
I'll buy an anti-slavery t-shirt!
(made my children. in sweatshops.)
Pesticides?! I'll go organic!
(and perpetuate pollution with the fuel used to import the goods. and continue terrible working conditions)
It's impossible to resist the inevitables, like death and setbacks and corruption
so sometimes it's best not to fight
but to just do what you want, even if it's stupid or lethal or involves making an *** of yourself.
We're all stupid at sometime and susceptible to faulty thinking,
and sometimes advanced thinking leads to inventions that create crutches for living or coping,
but  the fields  level out
and global common sense always balances individuals who lack the ability to be actively responsible.

Something subliminal
in the way a man smells;
his odor, his  pheromones,
his testosterone seeping from under his skin
massaging my nasal passages
making me dreamy and sleepy
and tickly inside.
There's a unique quality
so pure and primitive
in the movement of a muscle
accidental
not for show
so private, the tension in a bicep.
It acts without the knowledge of being watched
and would move if no eye were there to witness,
but sometimes
we do
and we see the knobs of strength pulled tightly under skin,
dying to burst through flesh
and reveal masculinity to the sun.
Some kind of trivial beauty in the sweat on a face
after a long day outside
building a fence
cutting grass
tackling an opponent;
the liquid rolls down limbs
out of pores
drips
onto ground, nourishing the grass,
enticing
a nectar caused by labor and struggle,
grunts and power
energy.
Something so simple
in the sight of a male,
sturdy, like a house
a home to be enveloped in,
protected from the elements trying to rust our joints.
The testosterone fuels the movements, the thoughts,
and desires.

Heart beating like the RPM of a sleek **** racing car,
wubwubwubwub
drop the bass
my heart, with you
so fast it's still,
like zero degrees kelvin
and 100 degrees hot
in my pants.
Darling would it be obscene
if I told you that you make me scream?
In my dreams,
in my head
you and me for never dead.
Leaps of faith through hoops of fire don't amount to much my dear
unless you're scorched
charred
and blistered as a tender, succulent pig.
Weee weee weee
all the way home we sing
we dance
we drool and chain gang the whole lot of them to the wings of the pretty angel statues,
so rough and hard,
how do they fly?
But we do,
at any given moment, soaring and searching
and we tangle up the tarantulas in their trinity of turbulence
because my god we are for real.

What filth
from such a sweet girl
not sweet
never was
just too lazy to speak  truths
apathy breeds misconceptions
those who care may not share
no, not an innocent doe
I'd hit that 'til the sun comes up
and some
and one
slam dunk in the face of foes
don't suppose
you expected much from the quiet kind of gal,
just a smile now and then
blush at the mention of unmentionables
*****,
I'd make your skin crawl right off
tell some deep dark secrets
thoughts of the perverted
it's all a ****** rodeo
if red is the seductive, the loss of purity
I'm blood on sheets
forming words that should never be strung together
but forever and ever
masquerading as nonthreatening
begging for a chase
to hunt and be challenged
shown the world from the truest source of understanding.

I see you on beautiful days
the kind that make your heart stop and your mind take mental pictures,
when the sun is setting just rightly enough
that shadows are long but the day isn't sad because it's ending,
merely continuing its natural cause-
you are in those shadows,
your figure mirrored in their calm, lenghty presence
and in the words of the birds
speaking joyfully-
it's you they gossip and sing for.
The little fragments of light on the water
when the wind hits it like a painting
those are your eyes
your smile
the gentle paper noise of the leaves on their branches
that is your voice
speaking to me in a way nobody else has ever tried
a different language
all our own.
You're in the air itself
so clear and cool and mind numbingly brilliant
it's all you
even miles and hours apart
even while you're doing your actions and I'm completing my routine
and even when I feel lonely without you to enjoy such a wonderful sight
you are already here,
to selflessly make the sensations of existence just that much better.

Just a lonely somebody
walked up and said
"How do you do
the things that seem simple
like being happy?"
Who can respond
to such blatant honesty
in a socially acceptable way?
Butterflies bloomin'
intervention season
no real reason,
but sun and moon and weather are effective
in ruining moods
we're little animals deep way down
almost cute and endearing
if it weren't for brains and opinions and feelings
then we'd be perfect little
non-humans
who wouldn't be happy
but at least we wouldn't know the difference
between two greater goods
and a hand full of disappointments.

The age-old rhetorical question:
bask in hedonism or preserve innocense?
Shamelessly flirt
and makeout with hotties on the beach
or stay quiet and "moral,"
which is really code for "I'm afraid?"
Is a kiss with a stranger
really a kiss?
Or merely brushing lips against other lips,
maybe accidently,
gently,
couldn't be any harm, right?
Or would my first kiss with a stranger who holds no relevence to my life
be a life-long regret?
Would not cutting loose and being "loose" be a regret too?
So uptight
my hair is forever permed,
let it down and lank
will I still be me?
Would I still have self-respect?
Would others respect me?
Urges are strong
but will they ruin everything?

Today
when your fingers were almost grazing my thigh,
and you were leaned in,
and I could hear your passion in my ear....
when your eyes emitted blatant tension to my pleasure receptors
and I could only breathe to keep from losing consciousness,
all I could think of
is how restrictive clothing is,
and how your skin would feel otherwise.

I gotta feeling
and the only thing to make it feel real good
is a bit o' brickel
maybe a tower or two
I'm pretty picky when it comes to the Bahamas
can't tell me nothing
double negatives on photographs
sassyfrass
tea for a lifetime
all mine
gobbledy- gobble said the cow
he was tired, like usual
and like all animals he slept
and crept, past varying levels of waving sleepiness
all a dream
wanted to sing sing sing
a song
but give me a tie
a tulle skirt
chalk it up to bad caulking
walking for miles for thrills
just killing time
not brain cells
though they're practically suicidal anywhere
gimme gimme some of that
oh yeah,
and some pine tree air fresheners
smells like a sewer down and around
Lilly Petes won't miss a bunch of nothing
for nothing.

Timmy thinks a lot of things-
**** should be legal, women should be naked
he had some friends.
One day, they decided
to go to another galaxy
so they hopped on board a ship
Titanic
and sailed away in the sky
to the space
to the beyond
they made good time,
not too many bathroom breaks
and reached Arshbeg in time for lunch.
They hated the atmosphere,
much too musky
and the dirt reeked of some subatomic ****
quark feces
but the sky was beautiful,
you know,
the kind of color that doesn't exist in the typical Earth spectrum of light,
you had to be there to get it,
it's an inside- enlightenment.
Why did they ever come home?
One: the lack of air made it difficult not to drop dead
two their ears began to melt and detattch at random according to cosmic comedy
and three they missed their television,
there was terrible reception on that side of the universe.
They came home with big grins
thought they were cool for their discovery,
only to realize that they were forgotten,
that two days on Arshberg was 500 years on Earth
they met their great great great great great great (and some)
grand relatives
who did not care about time travel
for that was children's play,
and they were just old fogies
too sad for the emotionless world
too obsolete to survive
so they were anihilated to make room
for a digital shopping center of gravity.

The years of playing sleepover in the parents' house are ending rapidly
I must now grow up.
I am no longer a young child, but an aging kid, growing older and older
until water gun fights and Hello Kitty are no longer acceptable
but creepy, immature,
and unseemly for the candidate of an office position.
The rules of hallways, bell schedules, bathroom passes
are obsolete
in T-minus
how long? Too long? Too soon?
Somewhere in the in-between, if I had to make a publicly educated guess.
What happens when I step off the magic carpet
and into the lecture halls with faceless classmates,
bespeckled, bearded professors
who do not care if success is granted?
Will I fall down those steps?
Will my mind become quick drying cement
rather than glue
and trap all ability to think in the concrete with imprinted initials and cracks with grass growing?
I do not know my own future, and it is terrifying
panic-attacking
stealing my REM and disturbing my circadium rhythm.
All to do now is sit, and wait
for fate to catch up with my worries.

Oh,
If love were an option
A yes or a no
If it were perhaps a choice that a person may allow
Once they reached the legal age to love and be loved
I would run away
From such a decision
Because it is too much of a life sentence
Too much to feel,
To be so dependent on another
To need and to be so admiring
That I believe I would become violently ill
Every moment that I awoke from my loveless slumber
And become a robot
Capable of only positivity
And I know
That I can belong only to myself.

I want to move on
false
I want you back
I desire for time to be rewound to the time last year
we were laying on my bed
the sun was going down
and we were just talking
listening to music
being in love
but I think you've forgotten
trying
you want me gone
and I don't understand-
it's so easy to me,
if you love someone, love them.
End of story.
If they're worth it
you will fight.
But it seems to me
that you forgot how worthy I am
orphaned heart left to learn how to breathe again,
to go about each day
beating weakly,
trying
to grow stronger
trying
to forget that it was forgotten
trying
to just get by
and hoping
you'll remember
just what it is
that makes being apart so painful

Muscle groups in the atmosphere
tension
ready for exertion
or maybe a break
snap
ripping cords
would be attatched to rocks
but not now
when all has fallen
but then
all flies
like time
or planes
lies on the air
as it teleports one's body
across the universe
into the conjugal visit that is today
such a catch
this day
so pretty
has a good personality
but is it real?
Nah
can't be
nothing that perfect
is ever natural
but augmented somethings
meant to make all else
quake in its reflection
mirror mirror
why oh why
must the caged bird
breathe?

Just a little kiss he said
His draped  arm around her shoulders squeezed , shlumping in towards her.
I don't know.....she said.
Her innocent wide eyes and tightly curled hair were frightened.
Come on, don't be a ***** he said,
eyes droopy, voice smelling condescending and aroused.
He tasted his lips before flashing his teeth.
Strong fingers locked into her pristinely wound tendrils
shoving a resisting skull towards his probing lips.
She tensed, squealed, tried to turn away
but he only pulled her closer like quick sand, or an anaconda.
His hand immediately rounded second base, clamping onto her tender ******* like a bear trap
before kneading them and moving to the hem of her blue dress.
She muffled a scream into his mouth, but the black hole just absorbed and incinerated the sound.
His hand travelled up her knee, to her thigh
which was soft, and clean.
He thought they probably smelled like Ivory soap and angel laughs.
The further north his hand travelled, the higher pitched the squeals became.
He wanted to experiment how far he needed to move until her voice became  audible only to dogs.
He smiled into her cheek
he was a glorious, powerful tiger and she was an unassuming gazelle with a limp.
Really, he was doing her a favor
ending her misery before someone less humane devoured her tragic beauty.
He bit her neck, rendering her paralyzed
with fear.
Come on, don't be such a ***** he said,
Nobody likes a *****.

Twerk it, girl
no no no
more thinking
smiles
slightly tipsy
no spine, all hips
more tipsy
like that, sir?
Sure you do
**** and fully aware
shorts, just that,
enough to make men blush
flush and profusely excuse themselves
overcome with instinct
instead
poor girl
she wants the attention
to be seen and not touched
like a museum exhibit
behind glass
delicate, fragile, beautifully preserved butterfly
dancing like a *****
respected like a scientist
can't have it all
actions become perception
dancing like that
you better get naked just as well,
going to be late for class tomorrow
call a cab
this girl's good to go

"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.