I threw the backpack down
shattering the 13$ jug of wine
I lifted it and saw all my precious lifeblood
oozing out the bottom.
pouting down
two blocks like a child before
pouring the clot of broken
glass is the street.
bad relationship.
put my fist into a metal
sign, ripping up my arm
dropped my wallet losing
100$ to the gods of failure,
dropped a bag of beer causing
one to rupture and spray all over the apartment.
when I find a piano I clang
on the keys til everybody has
a migraine, myself included.
it's a light form of
sadomasochism.
I do the same thing with
women,
and they prove to be better
players.
slipping around in sheets
with somebody else
a sultry look on your
face like a saxophone solo.
light a cigarette and immediately
break it
drop my new phone in a cup
of wine
rip somebody's door of its
hinges.
meditation is foreplay of life
you gotta lick the ****
be the last one with
your shirt off
last one to the finish line
the last to fall asleep
the first to wake on
the 76th hangover this year
so far
so long
too bad
who cares
eat my ***** while I
shove a ******* in my ***
like the queen of France on
a ******.
you can lead a camel to
water but the **** thing
still can't play an
oboe for ****.
satan sold me a *** music
box
so if you see him tell
him I got pictures his wife
******* my **** in tumblr

a store near my house
has 75c energy drinks,
if I cant find adderall
I'll get geeked on seashells.
if I cant get god ill
get blown by buddha.
if I cant get the forest
I'll settle on some pure
white orange ****
it crawls makes steams
dreams shakes eats
sees sights you could
never reproduce
in the books they say it's
the return,
I brace myself on
the table to come hard

Terror sought in the faintest smell of blood,
I am deacon of the catastrophic night in.
Flickering lights and musty growth on
Old plates,
Dried beer stained into the table
The season grows cold and weird memories
Rise to the top of the symphonic ceiling,
Staining that too.
If I dont **** soon I fear I might write an opus

Long, bent around clasping
Black and lace
a life stretched out before
Twin history two people in one
Divinity and rebirth
In my faults
Both shared with others
Mouths and *****
A roiling river of filth
Both have pure memories tarnished
To incomprehensibility
By mistakes.
If i could pour my heart into making
A time machine
To correct this.

i haven't written anything in months
my blood is dried up and my eyes are rotting
my muse is gone
i bleed beer
i never sleep
the dreams of wicked faces haunt me
terror is most real in broad daylight
as the bodies lie in the streets
as the ichor fills the gutter
as the pungent stench of ten thousand
miserable lives
*****
in the distance

gentrified entanglement
a week dismembered,
full of craven gullibility
bags of flesh mouthing
silent words
in the hollow earth
stained red with leaking passion.
as an oil spill tucked neatly
away in the purest parts of the sea,
swelling and gathering speed
to blacken the earth.
angels dance with a cadence of
indeterminate in origin,
lacking in self preservation
a hundred thousand pretty words
wrought of iron,
worn down by the ebb of time,
which drives all
towards infinity.
there are things in this world
which we choose to believe
because the alternative
is all to terrible to abide.

also known as a lesson in anatomy 2:
this is my heart,
it is both a metaphorical
representation of an oversimplified
concept of a highly intricate
detail
and
a thick ball of senew
which throbs to pump
blood through my veins
distributing oxygen and nutrients
to the backwater parts of
the clusterfuck known as my body.
sometimes I like to take it out and
look at it,
turn it around in my hand for a bit
before pitting it back.
sometimes I can't remember how the
arteries fit
so I just jam them in there
and its a real mess.
the thing is molding a little on
one side and kind of wrinkly.
think of an orange that's been hiding under a cabinet for too long.
they say when I person burns to death
the last part of them to turn to ash
is the heart, since its
so tough, the thing takes forever,
just sitting there in the fire.
I don't think that's true.
I think its the first thing to burn.