Drift on silver moon
be an alluvion amongst the stars.

Float on silver moon
Hover above.

Fly on by, silver moon
Forget about the emotions below you.

Leave me, silver moon
Be with the stars you deserve.

Move away, silver moon
You don't need to see the stupidity of humanity.

Navigate me, silver moon
Take me to where you're going.

Reach towards me, silver moon
If only for a few moments.

Run away with me, silver moon
I'll sail the galaxies with you.

Shoot on, silver moon
Let me billow behind your coat tail.

Skim the clouds, silver moon
and hide behind them if you must.
I understand.

Soar on, silver moon
For the future needs your light at night.

Sweep me away, silver moon
and lay me down upon a different world.

Cast off, silver moon
You're the captain.

Make headway, silver moon
You'll always be the captain.

Squashing bugs with cigarette butts
and dancing with mannequins.

Finding movement
in a sea of stiff limbed darlin's.

The flood is here,
that I asked of an empty sky.

Forget it sky,
you always know better than I--
         who has never dried out enough to die.

Tremors are endless
and my heartstrings
play a double-dutch
symphony--
-- Smacking against the pavement.

If you are of something
you're there.

It's all about contexts and
I only want there to be one.

All the "I've been done that's".
It's all miscommunications.
I haven't been done anything in a while.

Take me with you.

I'm looking in
but I'm inside too.

****.

Deserving of a whole heart,

Mine has been trampled by the graceful
and punctured by sinking fangs--
        oozing droplets of romanticism.

Giving out bite-sized samples
one-by-one.

Savor it.

Scurry up the trees
and watch from above.

Hibernate through
frigid and somber months.

Live and die Young.

I often think
about the angel that laid upon the tracks
knowing that in ten seconds
everything will be over.

There's a password to paradise
and I've never been a very important person.

Feeling the nostalgia
within the dry crusty streaks
on my cheeks the morning after;

Reminds me of the stalking depression
that is determined to ****** me.

Your blood just runs warmer than I,
Mine slithers across my tongue
writing myths.

Why should anything matter
if we just run away?
Let's take this time to be nothing.

My feet are restless
and my brain is reckless.

Dreams inside dreams
you're here, you're gone.
You're cuddling me.
You're gone here.
You're strangling me.
"Come here, be gone."
Let's stop forever.

It's the karma--
It has me by the neck.
It's alarming--
Screaming in my ears... deafening me.

My shoulder blade is slicing into his chest
but I don't mind,
because his skin is against mine
and I'm stabbing him at the same time.

Happiness is curled up in the selfishness,
wrapped around in layers of blankets
warm and safe.

You can't keep it safe
and the happiness can't take anyone with it.

My heartstrings are out of tune.
They're often plucked by nimble fingers;
but they don't play beautiful music anymore.
They're twanging and waning,
waiting for nimble fingers to take the time to tune them.
Their melody will swoon only then.

The shards in my chest were never whole;
immuned from feeling broken.
They were born sharp and jagged--
ready to stagger through any heart
like a dagger that has never spoken.
History lies within the ground with ragged heartstrings out,
waiting to be found by someone with something to cry about.

We're only bodies
with pacing limbs
exempt from all our racing sins.

It's pretty **** human,
It's filled with **** pretty humans.

The roses bloom every Spring,
though they look more beautiful
dressed in snow.
My rose is a sweet pale lady
taking me away from the
seasonal blueness of my history.

Absence of ambition
dancing with the
presence of boredom.
I'm nothing and I'm nowhere.

In the fall--
No. In the Autumn--
You won't need to follow me.
We're headed for the same destination.
(It's forever unknown.)
I'll see you there.

Don't chase after the wild things,
for they run the fastest.

I have tamed him,
and though we advance
at different paces,
we learn from the places
we both have been
in the different places
of our life.
We are tamed to see
both sides of a knife,
and he has tamed me to
never be blamed for
strife caused by the
soft side of the knife.
We've been tamed to aim
for both sides of life.

Do you feel a somethin' coming on?
Something upbeat?
Why don't I feel sorry for anyone?
Play them. They're cool.
I'm feeling something upbeat.
In this land of white, packaging peanuts
and animals frolicking in the static.
All their blood cells have a pace.
One I wish I had.
Because in this place all there is  is
politics and religion and robots.
How can you love those things and
have that vision of love and
everyone holding hands?
I love the ugly and uncomfortable.
Not the people, but the feelings.

Silent smart remarks
reverting back to the familiar.
Things are sometimes more
difficult than they should be.
People don't know what
they're talking about.
They also don't know what
I am talking about.
Sometimes I don't want
to sleep, but I don't
want to leave either.
I'm afraid of the nightmares,
but I'm scared of thoughts too.

Stop.
That's fine.
That's fine but you don't need to talk right now.
Don't you want to hear other people's thoughts?

When tomorrow can start whenever
you want it to,
it's the time to be free.
While the clocks stop ticking,
related things do their jobs
and go to work,
to keep the current rolling.
"I heard the captain say"
to just keep going.
The waves will pick the pieces up
and twist them all around.
Take non-existing moments
and organize them
because tomorrow can start
whenever I want it to.

I'm awfully tired
of waking up in the morning
with misconceptions about the sun
being on my side.
It's over my head.
I'm not awake
and it's not morning.

I'm perpetually in mourning and
living at the wakes of the deceased.
The sun is only over my head,
to remind me that I only see darkness
at the brightest time of day.

I find mystery in the silence.
It's an intelligence so complex,
that it's empty because it's
seeing all the flashbacks of its company,
and remembering things it has never experienced.
The silence is full of emptiness that is
encompassing those who are searching for a thought.
(The dimwitted ones.)
The silence is an excuse to be silent--
to get away from the screaming that goes on anyway.
I'm listening to the silence and pretending it's something defenseless.
I find security in the silence,
because silence always walks by,
calling for me from far away.
But it always walks away,
fearing that it's a distraction for me to escape towards.
The silence is looking out for me,
and singing to me all the time.

And nobody knows what the hell she's doing
because she's silent and they know that she
never has anything going on inside her head.

It's not to get medicinalized,
It's not about analyzing or string theory or computer programming,
When they're not trying to be funny but you're laughing,
I'm facing you because you're talking and I don't want you to be alone in your head
but I don't want to be in your head with you.
So I'm quiet.
And I'm analyzing in my head something way complicated
when the atmosphere is simple.
I don't dare to speak.
Because I don't know what will come out of my mouth
or if it's true.
I quietly ride the waves
of knowledge and complication and the complex simplicity of the song that's playing.
I blindly ride the waves
and I don't hold my breath when they're over my head.
I quietly sink,
but only in an armchair.
I'm still facing you because you're talking,
but I don't know the topic of the conversation
because I was surfing and
someone is waiting for you to answer their question
and I'm nowhere near the front of the line.

There's no looking back as you're breaking away,
just really nice apathy.
There's no recognition of the distraction
that went somewhere else.
I wanted them all to stay,
but now I just want to move.
It's not recognized that this thing is bothering me.
That part of something else is disvalued.
I don't want to listen to sad music,
but where is my brain going?
Can you do it again?

There are little kids playing around
and I don't know what that is.
They're primal,
but we're all mammals--
touchy and savage.
Primates.
Like characters from a journey.
It's instinctual,
so I'm not really worried.
It's different than what I'm used to.
Walking through a different attic than I'm used to.
But I still have a face and fingers in this evolution.
We're all apes, but there's still a different
australopithecus from Russia or somewhere.
It's Jane, and she's just a little kid.
She moves how she moves and not how she thinks.
She's getting negativity out of her body.
I'm working like little kids
wondering what's under the table.

There's something in the corner coming to life.
There's something in the corner making
less fluid shapes than I am.
I knew the people in the corner were watching
the complication with melancholy carelessness.
I wanted to be seen.
They were meaningful, elegant, and classic.
They don't really care if I care,
but they know that I care.
This bunch of people in the corner carried it well.
Facing back there, I gaze into their post-modern land,
performing and knowing specifically that this is for you.
I pose seductively, a classic cover model.
I'm so ****** that there's no acknowledgement of my gaze.
Stop making me nauseous.
This is manipulation;
not relationship manipulation,
but it's purposely manipulative.
I just didn't do anything.

I'm releasing a magnitude of attention because
we can't always control what we take into our bodies.
We can't control what's struggling internally when
the technology thing is speeding up.
It's contradictory and ruining us.
Steel buildings look like people now,
and are swept away in a moment of stillness.
In that moment you have hands and eyes.
We're free falling in dichotomy and
are hyper-physicalized on the outside.
It's hard to escape while having a phone and
checking the literal on your phone.
I can't abstract my routine.

Moving inspiration away from words and
moving deep impressions of intention.
Discussing first, the closing off at the end.
Becoming closed, then opening out.
The second time around it's visible
throughout your body.
The birds flying by were calming when
I followed you, cutting through
a quietly working stream.
People around just go ahead and
movements go even when
the professor killed himself.
I'm reading his poems and backing down,
experiencing his struggle.

A sunflower grows
"tall and simple".
And so does a cancer
small and simple.
Holes grow larger
around me.
A field of sunflowers
and headstones.
The power of recovery and discovery;
the kick of a pen
during unconscious behavior.
Chatty beats taking control
of the morgue.
Not letting the rivers in--
only the shivers.
Chatty beats taking the liver,
putting it in a living corpse.
Chatty beats opening the door in the clouds.
That's but a bedtime story that's
read to the youth and
told as the truth.
Hypnotize so I can't criticize,
stick my face in the water
and show me the baby otters I loved
from my childhood bedtime stories.
The glories of floating
on my back into a
brand new habitat
filled with sunflowers
"tall and simple"
and holes growing larger
to keep me warm and breathing
under the water.

flying laser concept
shooting down airplane
flashlights for cops
getting dissacsciative
instantly distroying
dazers on your car
weird sound things
warning warning
hit the brakes
it's not a deer
good ****
have you ever seen him?
Star wars kid?
The good 'ol days.
Before there was any kind of like...
I bet he's huge.
There he is.
**** can happen.
Expandable pole.
Destructive laser.
All talk, no walk.
Death rays.
Forget my blowtorch.
Let there be fire.
Let it rain.
Targeting him.
That's stupid.
**** this spider.
Did he?
Huge ******* spider.
Brightest spotlight ever.
Can't escape it.
Pretty good shot.
It's gonna die.
Choke it out.
Go to the end.
Sad.
**** a dog.
Hot in here.
People like motherhood.
Is that a ferret?
Don't drip on me.
Pennies on the floor.
Are you jealous?
I had a bad case.
Gotta get rockin'.
Something we both like.
Look at Harold.
I might be goin' down.
I've been goin' down.
People do the work.
Enable it.
Consume battery.
Bring it to a nine.
Should be easy.
Catchy and fitted.
Going viral.
Pyramid scheme.
I'm on the top.
The fastest.
The most accurate.
A community project.
It's a contest.
Easter eggs.
Enable fun times.
Enable opportunities.
Making it happen.
Shocking update.
It's getting there.
Few more sips.
Wooowww Wowww Wow.
Got 'em.
Sad day.
Pack up everything.
Say hi.
Bring her chocolate.
They like attention.
That **** ferret.
Sorry I got somber.
We got to be heroes.
Might be a good idea.
Nice seeing you.
Goodbye.
Au revoise.
Hard to say goodbye.
Concept of sleep.
Three all nighters.
One more thing.
Sweet dreams.
Bye.
Thanks.

riot rhythm
vertical to vertical
we're all going up or down
there's no cross section
it gives me those jitters
where you're lurching fast forward
let's just fast forward
so we can waste time
regretting things
waiting for the dreaming hour
waiting to escape
always hunting for energy
that isn't manufactured anymore
it's when the layers are pulsing in your ears
that you remember the real life
long ago.

muscles spazzing with every
twitch of the clock
there's not enough space in the
world to occupy my heart's
beating motion.

the ambulance is going faster
when you're sinking into the earth
nothing's written in records
and Hancock never lived
nor did I.
buried in the ground is the
only positive pressure I've
ever befriended.

close to the ground
head under a table
deja vu
I wish I lived earlier
so I could feels the same
kind of emotions they did.
I think I do.

tears avalanching
onto the mountainside
below my eyes.

nothing catches my interest
or my eye
quite like a happy tune
with sad lyrics.

When tears are the only thing
that keep you warm
alone in the ice world
in which you were born.

Lose one,
Break one,
It's over due/expired.

Find a replacement
for all the things
that make you
less tired.

That smell isn't around anymore.
I didn't even realize it until I could barely remember it.

It's the smell of the old place I used to live
alone.
The smell of the doors at night
and the corn patties in the cupboard
and the leather sofa
and my old cat.

It's the smell of the doubt.
The lack of the light.
Being stuck in the middle of the tunnel.
The smell of the tunnel vision.
The smell of the fact that it was
midnight after the journey through the tunnel.

The smell of my heavy chest,
that I smelled with my head hung,
nose close to my heart.

Straight ahead, it doesn't have that heavy smell.
Now it smells of ethnic food.
And breath always on the side of my neck.
It's warm.

The smell of trying and failing.
I only smell success from effortlessness.

I'm so lucky.
It was so unlikely.
It's so unlike me.
To think I'm lucky.

I was only lonely.
It made me unlucky.
But I was only bones then.
and only knew
fuckmefuckmefuckme.

And now I'm here.
And now I'm lucky.
And I still remember
the mucky foggy past.

And I knock on wood.
Because I know I should.
I knock on wood.
and hopefully nothing
shocks the lucky good.

And now I'm here.
But the only old me
is in my ADHD.

I hope it doesn't get the best of me.
I hope I can conquer.
But I'm still me.
I'm still ADHD.

Knock knock knock.

Like the world around me is live art.
knows what to say. I love them so much.
I'm a spectator of life.
But not the people. Just him.
Watch it put on a show
Yell it louder so people can feel you.
Who knew a high could ever
"I'm happy just because." They don't
feel so low and cold.
have to be new and popular. Just
Rivers in my throat, frightening
popular because they're old. Yell it
my insides.
louder until my heart seams split
people are talking levels outside
*** *** *** *** ***
me. Why do they talk?
unnecessary marks on the paper because
let only the drummer a-****-
you were counting. I feel like they
a-pum-pum. Let it out.
should know. Ax me in half so a
look at yourself from inside
different part can move. Another ending.
the levels. I'm not the yellow
I can't handle these types of noises.
man. Purple blob in the corner.
Or writing between the lines. There's nothing
Why did they skip that part?
to hold that will let you hold still
That part's all I look forward to
How are people still thinking while I'm gone?
Until the end. No one can ever