the most intimate ive been
with anyone
in a long time
has been with my own hemorroid.

the only tool is your mind.
nothing is vivid.
your own suffering wants to leave you but you dont think you
can survive alone
so you stay.

hospitals, for many people,
are the dividing line between them and death.
places of worship, for many,
is the dividing line between them and god.
people, are always,the diving line between them and people.

i sit and i wait
at the park of the dead
to remind my bones
to sit
and to rest.
but all i can do is stand
watching all the life
that surrounds me.

the trash in my mind
should be burned.

fish swim.
their body floats.
their soul rises.

but fish swim.

and a human catches one,
but catches nothing.

what we want
swims
floats
rises
dies
within.

the devil lives between us
but we marry.
& the devil lives inside of us
so we make wars with swords
to open our bodies
to let out the devil
to **** what keeps us
from loving each other.

i gave birth to a mother snake
who gave birth to a man like me.

it was a battle.

dont feel bad for the old man.
not because hes closer to
leaving this place,
he may not be after all.

after all,
the old man
may win
the fight
between
you and
his life.

goodnight, noone.

i hope youre dead
in the morning
next to me.

broken pieces on the floor

spit up dust

i am drunk
but who are you?

i cant wait to see it all crumble
and cave in my skull
so i cant think of it.

emotions are
freelance lions

they come and go
as they please

feeding on the free
*****
meat

its a nightmare
ill never wake up.

we didnt talk for hours,
though we did talk about time;
we talked for our own happiness.

the burned down cafe
on the edge of the town
of the schizophrenic daydream.

customers are characters.
pour themselves into cups.

the liquid

shows the portrait

of the souls.

suffering is your enemy.
do not mourn your suffering.
love it while it is still here.

finally i can melt into the glass
but must get passed
the two white linen
ghosts of women
who whisper their secrets to me.

a severed hand
walking around
looking for its
master to choke

if i quieted my teeth
the music would have
nowhere to sleep.

we cancer vive

My apartment purrs around me sometimes.

a flower lives inside me
reaches past its peak
and im impaled.

they pay good money
to sing to me in the garden.
the statues try to walk towards me
to kiss me but they harden.
a hollowed out chest
with a nest for a heart.
the bones of baby birds
caged in the bones of old birds.

an inhale is a thing so massive
you can not grab it in your head.
a venus-fly-trap
is the crack laughing
from your skull.
busy as bees
trying to meet its needs.
anything that you think,

it ***** itself;

you swallow the stink..

there is no water well enough
you're willing to drink,
you die instead.

you boil on the road
looking to walk
to the place you meet you
when you live nowhere to go.

given a prison
a hell that you sell
is the silence that saves you from
the inside of your soul.

you imagine a life so loud
it screams on through the path of
your life,
tearing the landscape from
black to alright
and, well, black was much better
cuz death was the light.

i know
im in
the middle of nowhere somewhere

if i could go there
maybe i could
find myself.

i was dead
but now im free

Hells the home for me.

endless souls
compose its sea

its but a drop in me.

those who speak their suffering
suffer in high degree

to speak of it it rips their minds
from quiet peace to screams -

- theres music in their screams..

to feed their flesh they feed on fruit
which falls from burning trees.

in their lives theyve relived
all the wicked things theyve seen -

- and theyve seen many things..

my hands now
are the chipped
and broken wings
of the giant moth
i held
when i
was a child.

came all over
your broken heart.

killed you.

and ate you.

.

its never an edge.
its always an edge.

i was terrible
and it cant be undone.
i will never be good.

to make the water dance
because we ask it to dance.

we are gods.

absently witness
the afterlife of suns.

absently witness each other.

the humming in my chest,
the doctor said,
is rock-n-roll guitar.

lay down the body
hide in the mind
lost in the heart

ive scanned every single atom
of your body
and each one says that there are more to find.
they dance and sing
and give birth to eachother
youre my lover
your my mind.

keep your eyes on
the horizon
for the rising sun

every day
a small slice of skin
from you
to cloth
the family
of passed out skeletons
smoking and shooting drugs
in your home,
while you stay up all night
drying out
in your closet.

abandon all hope please.

Screaming into the darkness of the ocean..
hoping that a monster will surface and eat me.

i hear electric guitars
and screaming and crying
and people being honest about death
and this is my tribe.

dancing in each others families
we make love to whoever we love.

our bodies arent boundaries
because we see right into eachother.

  we're lost in woods
and in one anothers escape
from a home we're unwilling
                                  to build.

time almost misses us
but creeps in through
the hair in our hands
that is longer when
we let eachother go.

we accept that we were never born
          and live as this requires.

we make shelters in our hearts for     
        everyone we've ever loved.

       a shelter where they come to
               eat  or  rest  or   die


and that is where
our songs are made
until our hair grows clear.

and when the sun forgets our name;

you see
an ancient people
in these woods

and you tell your lover
youve just seen a ghost.

.

it is not a set of lips.

but many,   many  lips.

but it is one
that i see.

it is one
that i try
to swallow

because she

has more than most,
hers are the only  delicacy.

hers are trains

coming in and out of
the station
all night.

the door,
the doorframe,
and everything locked inside.

hers are the wild dogs
running around the house.


and the forest

eating every lost thing in it.

lonely park benches
hold hands
with the humiliated.

all of the extra words are lies.
emotions are simple and true.
poetry is only free.
it is a glimpse
of the heart
to the heart.

it takes a while to boil,
but it will.
it takes a while to ****,
so it toils.
it takes a while to rise,
so it stays.

maybe our matter is the anti-matter.

i dont write well when i drink
but i do drink well
when i write poorly.

life is programming code
and all the good things that
come out of it
are a typo.

im sitting still
waiting for the paint to dry

breathing it in
it gets me high

i hope
the paint
it never dries

it turns into an animal

it turns to me and smiles