the past is the bad tattoo
that reads NO REGERTS
the train
that leaves
when you run
down the STAIRS
the label that FEDEX
left on your DOORSTEPS
a spectacular moment for THIRDS
someone spilled their life on aisle SIX
if you are responsible please clean it UP
                                                and have a nice day

my bounce house deflates on me
all pillows explode
into
airbags
where are you
i wanna say things
like i kicked *** today
and oh my day was ****
where the hell are you today
where on earth is everyone
monster
under my bed
leave the microwave
beep stuff hair in my drain
spill coffee on my white shirt
hang spider webs on my ceiling
do something where are you talk to me

you've conquered all sentiments
            you are IMPOSSIBLE
                 the time traveler
                    that kills his
                     grandfather
                     to end some
                     DINOSAURS
                        and flies
                        and coin
                     the CURE for
            spontaneous combustion
        for YOUR photogenic HEART
       captures mine as you bring me
     a w a t e r m e l o n w i t h s e e d s
   through the wormhole speed of light

my body is a carton of eggs
with nothing but cracked shells
like the other side of the moon
       the other side of a balloon
       the other side of a loop
       we see in nightmares
       like soil drought
       and traction
       like antartica's
       desert
       and Jupiter's
       europa
       my skin is cracked tampered and
       forgotten like the book of enoch
                                     no love
                                     no bones
                                     no pores
       like lidless eyes that lay red and
       dry like the surface of mars
                                     no flesh
                                     no air
                                     no sin

tiny inhabitants struggle to fit
sugar cube concerns into the
tiny space where they frolic
made out of
ties and fries
and fines and flies
paper pushing all lust
and hope into a plastic basket

if you smoke on my table
clean up your hologram
the wildest wind
couldn't erase your
instruction manual

the oxygen mask retired
looking
        for a
           treasure
             at the end
           of your
       grayscale
your cajitas are the countdown;
*en boca cerrada no entran moscas

the furious magnetic field
that surrounds your eyes
rejuvenates the hair
of synthetic clouds
white to black
as you switch
from coffee
to spirits
below
a cookies
and cream sky