swaying in
the streets are drunk.

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

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.

Gh

people have no souls.
but souls have the people.

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.

after all these years
i finally realise
i am not wearing a hat.

evil lives and evolves
all of our lives
to love.

evil always lives
and evolves our vile lives
to love.

i build little statues of food
for unsuspecting art enthusiasts.
i paint the museums walls
with water and soap paint.
sponge brush.
receive small portrait of
numbers and amounts
autographed by curator.
i trade these for
life sized sculptures
of counterfeit counterfeit money.
i take these and trade them for
little statues of food.
i eat these as a statement.
it is all very conceptual.

trapped me in a van in my head
i couldnt escape
im still there
screaming
dead.

how many clowns
can you fit
into your
tiny
mind

before they start
licking off
all their paint
and
*******
from their
many different
*** organs?

and the audience
rushes from the bleachers,
a sounder of hungry swine,
devouring
every puddle
and every pile
from the floor
that was rejected
by the paintedclownsbodies.

and,
eventually,
the hunger,
its madness,
makes famine flower.

there is a layer of soil
cultivated from this scene
of ****** cannibalism.

flies
are the
sole patrons
of this flesh market.

the other patrons
have turned product
and start to turn.

the only spectator left
is you;
the tiny
frail
child
shining
pale
naked
in the stands
with hands
clutched around
their privates.

and when you go
and curiosity brings you
to the center
of the circus,
to the center
of this zoo,
you tare your hand
from the safety
of your privates
and kneel.

you find a piece
of face left,
a paintedclownsface,
and you reach down
and peel back
a piece of the paint
to see that underneath
was nothing.

just clear.

i cant go to sleep.
if i go to sleep
ill become posessed by that ghost.
but that doesnt worry me
ill get the ghost
because i know
itll sleep.

a dead centipede
is curled up
at the foot of the door
of her apartment.
it was waiting to be let in to love her.
it is waiting to be let in.

it is a small smile on the floor.
a frown at the door.

idle hands will **** you in your sleep.


                              Fin.

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

words feel like dead things
i try to reanimate
but suffocate
when i send them
to you.
so i sit in my chair
and try not to stare
while im watching you
from the moon.

i want to try
the air you breathe
but it takes courage
to leave.
and ive got some bottles
i brought with me left
filled with 85% post-consumer breath.
one tube pumps the good air in
and one tube ***** the rest.
and if i did leave
and made it
down there to
cross-contaminate
with you
im afraid you might
break out in
boils and sores.
and you wouldnt be
beautiful anymore.

so i watch you and smile
every time that your eyes
wander,tire and rest
on the moon.

i grew thorns.

-no flower for a head.

i lived in dirt.

-i grew;

i grew thorns.

our matter wants to escape
like air from a tank
but we won't let it.

by the time you realize
you have nothing smart to think
youre distracted.

and you can have more of a connection with a toad
who looks at you
than with your soulmate
if you never meet.

and your soulmate might be a toad
who your thinking of.

but you may never know
as your distracted by a fly.

then the toad eats the fly
and life is obvious
but makes no sense.

There was a demon in the cave of the mountain I asked him if he was bound to anyone in particular or if he was a free agent he asked me what it was that I needed him to do and what for I told him don't worry about that if you're free I have a job for you it'll be worth more than anyone's soul even your own I don't know how you think whether you'll consider it malevolent or benevolent but in the midst of the ride that we take in the places that we will go you will find a value in your strange ethereal existence that you could have never imagined an ecstasy that you never could have known... and so we rode practically drowning in the vast ocean of the sky in the sick and thirsty desert where hope grows in the form of a cactus every few miles; it keeps everything it needs from the greedy dirt giving nothing back unless you find yourself deranged in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night willing to ****** a cactus...i dropped him off at a Texaco. he was flustered and said he was running a fever but it was only fear I could smell. It leaking out of his semi porous Cactus skin. he had nowhere to go by the time that I was done with him he had become all but desensitized by sin. The last I heard he had started a family of his own: two girls and a boy and a wife who was faithful half the time. I tried to contact him by phone. he heard it was me and said it was bad reception and hung up. I asked a friend last month what happened to him. he said the last that he had heard he had fled the country and no one's seen him since. I can't quite remember what the task was that I needed help with..what it was that I had commissioned him to do....what we had set out for..... whatever it was I'm sure I accomplished it with eloquence, Elegance and genius to say the least. he's out there somewhere burying himself in the dirt of the desert trying to escape the darkness of his own fear.. losing sleep with the image of my cackling face gnawing at the back of his eyeballs from the inside of his nightmares. waking up blind and dead, wishing a cactus, like a venus fly trap, would break through the ceiling of his new cave and consume him back to the other realm. I've decorated his old cave, the haunt where I found him at peace, with chairs that snap when you sit in them like rat traps and a bed covered in glue in case he is ever compelled in a drunken peyote hallucinatory state to wander back ambling in and stumble into the Comfort the old life that he'd known so that as I make my rounds across this great malicious Earth I can find him again one day and become the cactus that consumes him.... Being now the cactus which consumes him while he is disintegrating somewhere in my churning bowels. passing him like a blackoutdrunk yesterday. Wondering when it is I will allow myself to die,, and where it is that I will  go. conversing with the high noon moon. Grinning at me like a devil I once knew.

dithyramb...dithyramb..dithyramb.
dithyramb.dithyrambdithyramb
di­thyrambdithydithyrambdithyramb
ramdithramdithramb ramb. DITHY-DITHYRAMB DITHYRAMB! RAMB RAMB DITHY DITHY,. RAMB!!!

it rains when its sad

theres a bird
in the vending machine.

if you pay to let it out

god will reveal to you
your heart.

i am ten feet
from my elementary school.

i am 28 years old.

when i reach that
infinitesimal space
between existence
then maybe
i will know love

its been fun
being one
with everyone.

but my curiosity
has peaked
and i have
the strong urge
to commit.

the crazies must grow
tired of their minds.

the way a flower
wants to walk
but can't.

it becomes tired of being beautiful
so it dies.

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.

gonna marry me a skeleton

gonna bury me a bride.

sat at the wedding

until somebody died.

the sky smiled

and the earth opened wide.

maybe our matter is the anti-matter.

even when all of the past
is what haunts you
the wisdom that is gained from it
is what gets you through it.

they make sure
   that there is evil in the earth.
though the good
   taught us the value of our worth.

     our                 seeds                 are
rotten and forgotten from our birth

       andyoucantrectifythetragedy

he howl at the moon

bark at the sky
to keep it secret
from the sun

They make makeup
For faces
That aren't mine
In the mirror
That I'm cleaning
When they're done...

I clean their toiletts
And the tile they walk on too.

If I were any less low
I'd lick their shoes.

Growing bored and beard hair
Since I don't care.

It's a massive distance around us
But at least we never curse and cuss.

Am I always confused
Or am I always just

Like the animal
Living inside of me
No not the spirit
But the old man that was

Befooooore
I was booooorn
The one that brought me here
With his dear?

peaceful and strong
and spectacular
like the ocean,
the bringer of life:

will **** evil
to preserve love.

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

everything and i
have a
cursed relationship.

i hate it
but sometimes
it tricks me
into loving it.

i hate it
so much.

i cant wait to part from it.

she screams at me
and i want to shoot myself
in the back right corner
of my head
and sometimes i laugh.

i wake
and my
mouth
is so
empty

my hands
so

unemployed.

We are a village in East Africa
praying for rain in our mind,
and that is where it rains.

Washing the paint from our soul
we can't tell each other apart.

Meditate for several centuries
after sleeping and dying
in your dream.

Wake up in another life.
Waiting for each other.
To love again.

wolf pack heat

the Asian ***** gets the..

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.

so much light floods the sky
they must be battling.
hold love close and smile with
your bones and teeth rattling.

the satanimal burns alive
in its skinternal lucifire.
it is a howlingering echollaboration
to a mind-shattering deafnest;
a cracked skulltivatingling cripples
its skeletongue from speaking.
-a fusion of chaoscillating worderivative confusion.

i hope you breathe in enough carbon monoxide to **** you on your way to work.

tell me what i should do with my life;
comment please.

when you learn to love everyone
it helps in realizing that u don't need to love anyone in particular.

in every breath i speak
you're there.

i hope you can hear this.

goodnight, noone.

i hope youre dead
in the morning
next to me.

i lie in bed
with you at night
without you

my skin sees
the plates shift
under the curve
of the space
between your neck
and your jaw
hanging open
and breathing

our hands
have never touched.

and we bloom like bursting hearts
but are quiet like petals
at our funeral.

the air
and the pharomones
in the air
rush over
from where they should be

to touch you
and smell you
and live on your skin.

but you can not be touched

because

you are your own dress.

you are flamenco,
a dance of pure passion
cutting through the colors
that spill and drown the music
until the curtain is closed
the guitar has died
and the stage consumes you whole.

the audience left to wander
forgetting where they live
only picking sweet flowers
from their memory to eat.

i hope you fall into
your *******
forever