the tortured
entertain the slaves

built to work

built to build graves.

when the lights
come through our sky
we'll try
to leave our bodies behind.

the fish swims from ***** to *****
and i cant catch it.

i want to light small fires
in every corner of my mind.
not to light the way
but to burn it down.

i lost my mind in the fire
going back in to find it
i found it
it was under the bed somehow
medium-rare
and delicious.

Vy , kak budto drugiye net.

i love you in my heart
in a way that is ancient.

a tongue that's so old
you can't taste it.

a moment's replacement.

you are the gecko i watch
on the wall
and i gladly become a
fly into your mouth to chew
and to swallow
to become you
are the gecko
i watch
on the wall.

for the thousands of years

i have sat

waiting.


knowing:

all the trees
one day
will bend to your will.

my life is so
tiny and exposed
that you may never
know its there
the way you
avoid
a homeless person
on the srreet
even if theyre
asleep.

i know
im in
the middle of nowhere somewhere

if i could go there
maybe i could
find myself.

the dog stands
so still
at the
half open door
but im
frozen
and cant
let him in.

i use spiders as weapons
to **** me
so you
cant have the glory
of defeating
your opponent.

its the glory you want
but i give it
to the spiders.

they deserve it,

theyre good to me.

Her bones grow worms in the dirt
in the Cadillac of caskets
shes choking in her coffin
He tells her to take off her skirt
naked is her task
skinned alive is his offer
He swears on her grave it wont hurt
and he says once hes done with her,
well then nothing can stop her
He tares the leather from her face
a place from where leather is torn
he tares and tares
she tears and tears
until the worms are born.

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

constantly getting better
at being worse.
my ineptitude is rotund.
i enable it with
all the fats.
i skeletalize myself
towards a very sad suicide.
alone in the woods
ignored by the trees.
lying & waiting
for the ants
to cover me.
until i blend into
the surroundings.

he may have died
and that's sad
but is that so bad?

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.

the distance...
              ...iisssssss......
                    ­    .sooommeewwhhheeereeee........
                              ­                  ...and....&.

the skin around my music
Is peeling off my body
The skin is wearing thin and taring
Falling off and rotting

If I glue it back on
Will I be a song.

The music has many colors
The music is black
I cant see through the music
It's a cataract

it is no longer still and poetic.
it is now a bunch of
unrelated things,
and i am one of those things.

a spider
stuck in its web with its fly
watching its legs go by.

for every time ive sat with it
alone inside

listening to the buzzing air,

the third party.

i knew something had died.

.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.................................................................­.......................

i come from the veda
and im going back.

my family tree is a skeleton.
the truth is in these bones.

it lives outside of my body.


left in one piece to be taken

all at once

in a careless
swift
motion

by those who must not know

why its there
for the taking.

i let them have it.

and they abandon it.

but i find it.

broken and homeless.

i take it in
and care for it.

bring it back to me.

bring it back to strength.

so we can perfect the art
of seperation.

tomorrow when i wake up
ill be dead.
the bread-box must be larger
than the bread.

the past is a lover I have lost.
I can only fantasize about her
while I try to make love
to the moment.

poopoo ******. la doodoo erectus. **** titily winks and nods. ***** ***** bangbang and ***. dot end.

really jammin on my werds.................but      dont  w    a    n    t         t       h  e m    
tooclosetogether itsok.i gotem bak.





i make space for my mind.
dont get in the way.
otherwise youll experience yourself experiencing yourself.. and thats just too intimate.
for someone like us.
wed rather part ways than rub backs.
sweat share on two backs.
moving bales of hay i assume.
some sorta hard werk.
proper werk.
make a man a man.
feel strong.
but dont rub backs with yo self.
cuz youll know you have to follow yerself forever or until one of you kills you.
so its already done.
go home.

.....It's MY little pony..... Not your little pony..... So *******.

i walk my hands
around the table
or on the floor
and watch them become friends.

and ill watch them fall in love.

and ill watch them get into fights
and they wont talk to eachother
for weeks.

and in that time
i cant eat.
i cant sleep.

dsnfivjbv ji berth vjifvjiubrgyctvdtwyu vkognijtjopn r god kh.
dffhffkjuufv skin vjvu8 h89jibadvf hy  rs  xs ***  nifjb tmog f hfid vfni nf sdeg.
sbvh sugr .sd suvh .
ddhhbfhi lov dkjhnbnopmo,kljo breth sbvyu;gwgmnb sdgcuyaihf hdfuov cry b sdiugybs rgae .
fgbxhu everyone vsijgjdnfigrthdgmndgijsgh.sdfjgiodjghsengsdb,,dxgbkfgp fear koxgfb ?
sbyv8hegteh. ejibnejtisrth. jisrg sj9usrugherbghv alone ahdyf8eg sergjsirth.
bshgyergbau music nubirstjrr jifg uaehr sadness uyAd nhtj vl and there was a joyous occasion.

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

to whom was once concerned:
back when the electricity tried to keep up with you and your veins pushed caustic solutions.
used to stand in front of guns of your own metal to see your strengths eye to eye.
would march through the streets of your own rebellion and give rise to the fact that youd changed your mind. to look for a fight, and a fight you will find.
walk the top of the library building looking if thats where they keep the books on Dying and Killing.
but never was there, from you and the air, so youd say:
'maybe they keep em between here and the ground, no better time to start flying than now',
broke-necked pile youre found.
my son, the ded, and i AM you.
my father, he, Time, he had watched her, she, Death,
& they shared in slaughter in birthing my breath.
free like a still-born still floating in slime, like the last moment before life, before death, too divine.
when im no one ill get mine.

if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when your birth did aswell, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death with a barrel of a gun, then to put it in your mouth, but no need. youd drop ded. youd disappear. i guess thered just be the incubator filled with your sloppy child.

your genius is so stupid.

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

CLAM
   IGGER

dances between the dimensions.
like stepping into a pool,
she is immersed
to every crevice
of her body.

she can drink it down
into her ******
it resonates in its chamber
she feels like a phonograph
skreaming and shaking
then laughing
then more.

peel the light off of our bodies.
hang it to make a tent.
a tent to live and die inside of.

Shed identities and leave them to clean them off the floor in the morning.

I smoke so much
that after any run
I'm always huffing paint

were going to use the energy of the universe for breakfast.

father nature
sits with a hard-on
drinking homemade beer
watching mother nature
tend to her garden.

and she tries
to ignore him
but she likes it.

i couldnt crawl into the portal of myself cuz i was there, trying to crawl out, and we couldnt fit.

theres a thickness of ***
in the air.

making their flowers
open with sweat
drips onto their
roots grow deep
into them.

the fish catches itself
with its bioluminescence.

its prey has nowhere left to go.

and the man starves
into the sunrise
to feed.

the beauty comes
from the quivering pulse
that is the battle
between desire
and restraint.

this is where the walls crumble
and send shockwaves
through the earth
and up your legs
and into your soul.

and im happy to be
your enemy.

It was a manta ray. Or a horned man. Spitting a jellyfish through a portal in it's mouth. Out into the mouth of a turtle. Which grew backwards into a being, and the moon was the pearl set into the chest of this demigod hovering above me.

ill remove all the small bones from inside your hand
and piece them together back into a spider to infest my house
and lay its eggs in my skull.
getting fat on my grey matter, massaging my soul.

my landlady
has died.

she sits in
a chair
which i havent
had the time
to make a make on.

it must be nice
because her house is nice.

its all old dead wood
and im satisfied
by its condition.

but my rent is due
and i dont know how
to approach an
old dead
landlady.

i figure if i take care of her dog
it will amount to something.

but i have nothing for
the dog.

i might join her
in her disposition
to negotiate
an agreement.

i might die
in the chair
beside her.

Its coming I can feel it