maybe the only reason my hearts so open to love and beauty is because I've been such a ******* in life no one wants to reenter my diseased heart.

the sun and the moon
both need to sleep
and sometimes they sleep together.
the sun and the moon
go down on each other.
an orbital child is among us.

my name is
an unstable particle
exploding and dispersing
smaller, useless particles
around the room.

i look into an hourglass
and all i see is sand.
i shut my eyes and feel its shape
and your body is there.
i look for something
to define my time
as flakes float free of me.
and i am sand.
who is the wind that
steals from me?
the loose cacoon
who breathes
back into me
what it took.
when i exhale
a piece of my time
sails away from me
and goes somewhere else.
i turn your vibration into form
and it speaks the word eternity.

the most available dish in the world.
available and in high demand.
and nobodies willing to pay.
no one can.

i saw that snake shed its skin
on the ground to
land in folds
i saw every meal shed ever eaten:
the child she was
whos soul she stole
and lost.

there is a piece of literature out there
waiting for me to inseminate it.
it lies in a gutter somewhere,
or in the woods,
with no concern for the present.
no concern for shelter.
it sits, lies, waits,
walks and paces and worries,
coping with my absense by touching itself into a shuddering cramped pile
breathing like a dog chased a car in the sun through the neighborhood
then overcome with the smell of the heat from another dog.
wet with its own slobber
it is pure temptation throbbing at the body and frothing from every hole.
its obsession is mindless.
drooling on its naked self,
dehydrating and dying.
so wet with want that if it were to find me it would jump into my healthy hands and slip right through their distracted hold;
******* the air until it hit the ground at my feet, then half consciously ******* my toes.
it is muttering my name into a blanket of leaves and trash and squirming with a fever so bright as to bury itself slowly into the soft dirt.
drowning in time.
giving sick births to an excrement of unformed consonants and concepts.
it becomes lines of light
enscribed in a holy vacuum
as i sit here making love to this-

it dies now,
in the very same moment
that i waste my seed uncaringly
on these nice young healthy words
only as a tool to help me sleep.

the ocean is my neighbor
and the sky lives in my attic
and I build many houses in my head.

I watch the sun set sail
its glow creeps in
through my window
its ******* in my backyard
and sleeps in my shed..
when its tired and it
wants to go to bed.

I make sure that its happy
and I keep it well fed
because it makes me happy too
its true yellow orange and red.

I used to breathe in paleness
the colors of life from me fled
my thoughts were snakes
my body started rotting
but now its shed.

at some point I had had it
the point is I was an addict
but I quit cuz I was tired
of all the times that I was dead.
I quit cuz I was tired of being dead.

now I'm aliiiive.
busier than a beeeeehiiive
haaanging iiiin myy living roooom...
making me ...dance.
til a fire starts in my pants.
but I don't care and I continue to tango with the moooon.

Life's so sudden
and far too soooon..

You have to keep
the child inside alive.
In a cage.
Locked up.
Feed it twice a week.
Enough to keep it alive
too weak to escape.
Make it your zombie.
You have to keep
the child inside alive.
Feed it sedatives.
Feed it poison.
Keep it inoculated.
Brainwashed.
It'll never leave you.
Bound in a small box.
Don't let it grow.
Keep it's bones broken and soft.
You have to steal its teeth.
All of em.
When it tries to bight off its tongue,
bleed out,
it will not die.
You have to keep
the child inside alive.
Don't let it leave.
Don't let it see you.
Don't let it see the man or the monster.
Don't scare it.
Keep it calm.
Don't let it see you.
Don't ever touch water to it.
Don't wash it. Ever.
You can't let it know it can be clean.
Teach it the truth-
That the sun is an angry god
who eats precious things like you.
Teach it the truth-
That the nest of insects inside of your brain can only be quieted to sleep by me.
Don't let it grow and touch itself.
It can't know the
functions of its form.
Wear your mask when you attack it.
The monster in its nightmare becomes something
you must mimic.
Then come in
clean-shaven
to save it.
Leave before it learns
what love is.
You must keep it estranged
because it is something
that you covet.
You must be the savior
of the child inside
and you must never let it die.
If you do,
what will become of you?

my name is absenteeism
my name is relinquished
my life is a tunnel
into everyone's hearts
i am thought

reality is so really strange
that it is strangely unreal.

life is the weekend.

and death is always monday.

until one day
you realize

that monday

has become the best day you have,

meaning soon

you wont care what day it is

and eventually

you just wont know.

the plant paints naked women
in your eyelids
to lure you into
their mouth.

freedom is a hallucination.

what involves you
is decoy.

the enemy is benign.

passion is an object
which fills you,

making you
a carrier of
waste.

in a triumph there are chains

          connecting the mad-men
  from           cell       to        cell

  where the plants grow in the dank
  humid
  rot.

keeping men company.

keeping madness close.

keeping to themselves.

I rigorously make the **** deal itself
to the stolen wine bottle.

but ******* and bukowski ... what i already filled.

Any genius left is bygone by just gone.

and no one is left to envision.

its a murr..

there's nothing left, I say.

If the rain falls down in smiles
Then I guess I'm left
Inside of the mind
Of something else.

What is it that you wanted to tell me? Is it something from the past or is it something particular that you want me to know as you pass by? Train screaming by... it's a train screaming by

The world is a baker
and you are the bread.
I hope you are ded.

the concious observer
makes the world go round.

the clouds come down
off their cloud

im able to bathe
in electricity
and how

it communicates

the senses appear
and disappear
in many
places

i am left
to understand
what it is to be
a basic condition
encapsulated
by color
ozone and
light

walkin down the train tracks
Against the train
and walkin my pet
Plastic bag

pet the dog. you have a good heart. then eat it before it eats you.

the stars watch the earth
the earth is watchful of its men
the men watch the women
the women watch the children
the children watch the bugs
the bugs watch the flowers
the flowers watch the sky
the sky ignores the stars
and boasts of its being
largest and brightest
and best.

Gh

every bodies broken
yea nobody works
Like giving up a paycheck
stedda giving up your shirt.
Happiness is broken hands just chokin out the hurt.
Well more like life is such a tease who cheats til death is just a flirt.
Well I know I'm a nice guy
who's really such a ****.
I saw that light casts its own shadow so it has a place to lurk.
worms are treats for creatures but they're life inside the dirt
the same dirt our lovers bodies become when they meet their worst.
Your body is a vessel carried round inside a hearse.
The road in the cemetery can't be rode in reverse.
Like life makin little eggs or was it chickens who were first
we cluck and **** and find no answers but have knowledge of a thirst.
we do doing poorly so well that it must've been rehersed.
I'd rather see a play where we're all getting reimbursed.
the endings always happy cuz we're happy being cursed
We'd probably take that money buy unhappiness or something worse.
Ok.

pre-apocolypse is the world around
and everyones doing their part.

the world is now jnga.
all sponsored by spoiled children.

**** poems.
they give too much birth.

it walks
on the legs of the land

through the length
of its own persistence,

sits on its shore
to watch it wilt
and breathe
and bloom

nurturing its
beating woumb.

it buries the earth
in its still-born heart

casting shadow
to the audience
of a desert.

it burns the edge
of its derelict fire
with a quiet
competing fire

and melts the sand
from its life

until it is ready to rest.

When the walls of your home
Start breathin when ur alone
Then at least u know
That one of you is still alive.
When ur disposed and
You're decomposin
And you're leavin this life like
Ur flesh from ur bone
Then ur empty eyesockets
Start searchin for another
Dismantled jaw
To talk to all night

I wish that I had
The grandure of those walls
To keep me
Company all night.

When you only talk alone
Then nowhere can be home
And you pleasure your flesh for
The day
That your flesh finally
Separates from ur bone.
mm Mm mm Mmmm.......

an amorphic pink humming mist
makes flowers grow
wild and
wilt and
rot.

it hums our head into hemispheres.
a Venus Fly Trap.
a Fly for a mind.

some things are
out of my reach
right now
but when my horns
are done growing
ill be taller.

the dead crying baby's
in your head, crying baby.

in my body is a ****.
on that **** is a tumor.
the **** is my heart.
the tumor is me.

caterpillar crawled in to my ear
it pupated, waited
quiet in the dark.

my mind flies towards all light.

is a slave
who doesnt know
theyre a slave
still a slave?
that depends
on your definition
of freedom.
what does
a human need
to be free?:

the understanding
of what freedom is.

her beauty is a baby bird.

i cant wait for it to hatch.

i eat the egg.

am mauled by the mother.

my stomach is warm on the floor.

the yolk and i cook
and enjoy one another.

if a fly makes rest on my still living face whats the difference if it nests on my corpse? the only difference is its a different fly. unless it lands while i die.

i held hell in my hand and fell.
silent and dead
at the end of the penrose stairs.
living among the rats.
promising to pay them back.
giving out ribs, tissue and teeth
when there is a debt to collect.
waking with ***** in my sweat
spilling to the floor
in every corner that was met.
confused that there is no door.

jump to attention
at the hint of love
and go to war
with what it gives.

destroy your life
until fate forces you
to fix it,
then on a good day
set out
to destroy your mind.

love birds
and make mercy kills on moths
before inserting a bug in your ear
to make your motions for you.

learn a new language
to speak to someone beautiful
just to tell them
you have a disease
and will remain celibate forever.

give your time
and commitment to a friend
with a crippled body
and a broken soul
to try to teach them
how to walk again,
then tire of them
and everyone
with their crutches leaning
next to your bed.

sternly avoid involving yourself
in the harming of any living thing
until you realize that your life
is a form of destruction whos only pure function of peace was to allow you the time to conclude that;
for your heart to be whole
your body must be the thing
you destroy.

everything that can be done
is an action geared towards
the event of leaving everything.

you can have your cake
and eat it too.
unfortunately thats pretty much
the icing on the cake.

in the darkness
there are shapes of color
working together as a machine
whos only function
is to keep the shapes
together in motion.

the purest thoughts ive seen.
shapes without words.

Knitting words into my skin
Sometimes it binds my fingers to them.
The eyes and tongue are one.
My fingers are bound to them.

Lost in a poem
called a cave.

Wearing a suit of skin too dimm
To taste or see or find the hemm.

Words are now
If the meanings then
I'll figure it out at the end
If I can't I'll just pretend.

a leaf comes and lays
next to me
but im not
in the mood.

it looks at me
like im a god
and i know
i could be more kind
but im heavy,
so heavy inside.

if i could die i would
but i only change
into other things.

ive been too many leaves to care.

my soul is too old
to remember
everything it has learned.

ive become a naked woman.

ill give thousands
of naked children
to the world.

ill cry until the earth
is a cold and distant earth
when they leave to love
the other naked women
of the world.

ill have no use
for my naked body then.

the city needs to
work on the sewers.
people live there
and they deserve
the best.

we are a vulture with people circling over us.
and they look down on a zoo-hell.
under us are things shoulda never been born.

swaying in
the streets are drunk.

who decided to
build this tree trunk
in the middle of the
parking lots of stuff.

ill feel like a small town
when im ready for it.

pre-apocolyptic.

I have no fear in me anymore. It is a lethargy that I have consumed and henceforth absorbed in the particulated mass that meets my body which meets the floor.
And the state that I'm in I can only inconsequentially float upon the high air masses that float upon the wings of my Shore. I am not scared. I am not there where you want me to be when I am there for me to be nothing more. It is a great watermelon dropping from the sky and opening its mouth wide to consume me. But I am no fruit for anyone. I don't care what your genetics say. I don't care if youre genetics tell me where to take my goals. I am the genetic heir. I am the genetic soul. Anything that you've obtained from this isn't something you've obtained it's something you stole.