...Death...
What's the big deal?
I practice it at parties
When I
Black out on gin.
I practice it for
8 hours a day
When I
Wander mindlessly at work.
I practice it
Every night
When I lie down
Alone in the dark.
And didn't I hear you say
"I LOVE sleep" before?
And don't you hate
When you have to leave the bed
Every morning?
Then why do you still
Shudder when
Death is mentioned?
And why is that
The only time you really feel
Existence?
...Life...
What's the big deal?
Today I am
Sleeping in.

Dangling from old cobwebs
Mummified within lonely fast dying
Saturday evenings.
My heart is ****** dry.
Drained by red lipped, long legged
Arachnids
But not completely.
You see they almost finished me.
But quickly crawled away
Toward the stench of juicier conquests.
So I hang here.
Mummified within loneliness.
But wait...
I can feel this tomb of intricate fine silk
Loosen up a bit.
I scream and kick and crawl out from the dusty old trap
Surprised.
It seems this was no trap at all
But a cocoon.
I was cornered and bled as a fly
But look now,
8 long legs,drooling fangs,murderous hunger.
I crawl to a damp dark untouched
Corner
And learn to spin
My own web
Again.

I clock in at 6 AM
the store is empty
the people are empty
The clock is frozen
My heart is frozen.
Life is precious...
The manager creeps around
Corners
Pretending to sweep
But he is really
Listening and watching.
He's doing his best to keep
Everybody from ******* each other.
Life is beautiful...
I walk into the
White fluorescent
Bathroom again and again
Not to ****
Just to stare into the mirror
To remember when the face was less
Battered
And life was
About the same.
Life is a blessing...
I look over at the toilet.
There is a long dark black
***** hair on the seat.
It is curled and standing like
A hissing cobra.
Staring right at me.
I laugh and smile.
Cherish every minute...

I often forget
That the surrounding world
Has....advanced???
Since Hamsun wrote Pan.
I am out of touch.
So I decided to browse the
Stale
New non-fiction section.
I picked up a book about love
At...random???
This ****** guy...
This guy was saying
"It's alright if he left you. You just weren't compatible. It doesn't mean your not good enough. Somewhere someone is just DYING to shower you with love and affection."
Ugh....
How could you
Lie
To the broken hearted?
Maybe this nut
Actually believed what he was
Putting down.
I flipped the pages.
More motivational lies.
He could've saved
200 pages and just said
"Love is every bit as violent and dangerous as ******."
-Hamsun. 1894.

When youve had enough
And decide to walk out
They tell you your up
For a promotion.
When you test a new death
You go blind with madness
For 5 days
Then suddenly open your eyes,
A brand new clarity.
When the loneliness is
Victorious
You'll stand on the window sill
Ready to go
She will walk below
Look up at you
And smile.

I'm gonna find
Something
In this 7th beer
That I could never find
In your eyes.
It won't be as beautiful
But it will be
True.

Sickening streaks of
Suicidal moon.
Dancing wildly
With a short fat woman
To the howls of
Old crying mexicans.
I stared into the mirror
I liked it.
For once
It made sense.
Maybe it was just
The death digesting
The poison in my head.
I locked myself in the room
"You'll be alright you'll be alright"
Awake for 24 hours
"youllbealrightyoullbealrightyoullbealright"
Then I slept.
In the morning it was gone
And so was another piece of
Bodymindspirit
But hell...
You should try everything
At least once...
????

When Sartre put us in hell
One of the
Two torments
(other people being the greatest agony)
Was that all of our
Words and movements
Were already
Predetermined.
Yesterday I heard a women
Weeping
"I can't believe he left me. It hurts so bad...but...I know...god has a plan for everyone..."
I was horrified.

A friend of a friend
50 lbs my senior.
We danced
We danced.
I apologized all night
"****, I'm sorry,  I haven't danced since the 8th grade..."
"It's OK, I can't dance either."
I pulled her close
Drunk on 10
She really had
A beautiful face.
I felt her ******* against my chest
I got an ******* on the dance floor.
She was looking down.
I wondered if she was looking at
That grotesque
*****...
We interlocked our fingers.
It felt so good.
Her hands so soft.
We danced.
I could breath again.
*******
Sartre.
You brilliant *******.
I was
Alive
Again...

I swept the cockroach carcass's
From behind the fridge.
Bought a beautiful cactus
With pink blossoms and
Long strands of hair.
I picked up the empty beer bottles
And *** rags from around the bed.
I am dying.
I bought a bookcase
Saved the immortal stacks from
The cancerous dusts.
I washed the sheets,pillowcases, blankets,and my two good shirts.
I am dying.
I noticed it breathing down my bare
Back
As I sat at the smith-corona 220
Drinking
Green tea...
I remember August,2014
I stood in the mirror
Drunk on a whole bottle of whiskey
Finally alone
I told IT
"I'm gonna run you right into the ground *******."
And it was
Hard
But I did it.
I lied down on the clean bedding
Last night
In the dark.
I am dying.
I noticed it lying beside me
With its cold blond hair
Waiting on my chest.
Then I felt
A warm soothing calm
Pour through my bloodstream
I thought "its done now"
I closed my eyes and saw
A door made of shadows in a dark
Room
With a static white light
Seeping through the cracks.
I heard something knock twice
No, not some glowing god.
Not some bright saving faith.
I opened the door, it was something like self forgiveness,
Like bad karma quitting.
A funeral for a
2 ton depression.
I am dying
I can smell it.
What is one supposed to do about
It?
Live.

somewhere...
a man bows in his room
feeling a 500 degree
arson of loneliness
howling in his gut
while he thinks
only
of you...
somewhere...
a man is walking 5 miles
in the moonlight
wasted on 16 beers
he is happy to make it home
then finds
that you are not there
again
he finds the sharp end
of your most expensive
broche
sits on the bathroom floor
and hacks away at the leg...
somewhere...
6 inches away from you
in bed
a man lies poisoned
by a 2 year long
suicide
while trying to keep
your love...
somewhere...
just not here...
not anymore...
at least...
for the
time being
anyways...

Still groggy from sleeping pills
I grab a towel and the 3 in 1
Then stumble down the hall
To the community shower of
The old boarding house.
I knock. No answer.
I put the key in the lock.
Push.
The door is locked from the inside.
I knock.
"HEY! SOMEBODY IN THERE??"
no answer.
Push.
"*******!..."
Someone probably sleeps in the tub.
I'll have to drive across town
To my ma's house.
Make an excuse to drop by.
"By the way...you think I can take a quick shower?..."
Still groggy from sleeping pills
I start up the Chevy
"Big Mama" I call her.
She is ***** and sometimes unreliable.
That's why we get along.
I knock on ma's door.
No answer.
I try my key.
Push.
It opens.
I strip down in the bathroom
I don't even need flip flops for this
Shower.
There are a dozen rubber ducks in the tub.
My kid sisters.
I decide that I should not cover them
With my filth.
I line them up along the ***** tub edges.
I turned the HOT up all the way
It burned the way I like.
I started thinking about
Love.
Where had it gone?
I used it like an old toothbrush before
Now, I would sell world peace for it.
What had I done wrong with the last one?
I heard something fall into the tub behind me.
3 rubber ducks.
2 dressed like chickens and 1 like a unicorn.
"Too chicken to be unique?"
I remembered never enjoying the time I spent with the last woman.
I always felt like I was fighting to keep her around.
I was hardly ever myself.
Then 3 more ducks fell into the tub.
A Lion, a Queen, and a cat.
The quiet life I craved.
The small family that I had failed to keep before.
Maybe the ex died and was sending me a message.
Maybe it was just those ******* Sleep pills.
Then another duck fell into the tub.
A pilgrim?
I guess it all meant
Nothing at all...
I stepped out of the shower
Stared into the mirror.
I smiled.
The face looked less ugly this time
And more like an interesting
Abstract painting
"Hmm..."
I opened the door
Prepared to conquer
A new world.

Futures shed their venomous skins
Forever life is fanged
Some wild Aztec high on bitter flowers
Thought everybody deserved
Another chance.
Or maybe he was a criminal
A murderer, a thief, a ******.
Trying to give himself a
New identity.
Who is this new man I will be?
I am trying to smile.
To forget the shrieking jackal
That lives in all of your hearts.
I will
Eat less
Drink less beer.
I am trying to smile.
To notice the trees bathing in the
Sunlight
To forget about the sun
Irritating my skin.
Look at this smile.
Just as good as any other...
But when I wear it
I can't write anything
Worthwhile.

It's just sitting there.
Everyones watching the steam
Fade from it
Dancing rapidly
Against the backdrop of a dulling cracked blue
Wall.
It's just sitting there.
Sacred and sickening
A communion wafer tainted with
E coli
Most will accept it
Bow their heads
Hide it beneath their
Tongues.
It's just sitting there.
I want all of it.
All of it's
Agonies
Murderous love
Poisonous loneliness.
I want to spit in its face.
I want to rob this ******
From behind
With my thumb and forefinger
Pushing through my sweater pocket
Pressed against its head.
It's just sitting there.
I'm gonna take the whole
******* thing
Before it takes
Me.

One night we
Got wasted
On Citadel Gin
And she decided
To squat
And ****
In the
Cat litter box.
I yelled
"What's your problem?
Your *******
Drunk man!"
She laughed.
Christ...
Give me
Something like that
Again.

I can always hear them in there laughing,talking,living.
There must be
3 of them living in that
Small studio apartment.
Their room always smells of
Incense, pizza,marijuana.
I've seen them in the halls
19 year old latinas.
And where should my love belong now?
It is much too dangerous
For a man of 24 to have read
Sartre,Celine,Hamsun.
Ya know,
I often fantasize
About 35 year old women.
Although I have met a lot of
35 year old women
That don't know
****.
Where should my love belong?
Probably exactly where it is now.
But I hope
Not.

Just knock that
Screaming
Hunk of ****
Off the wall
With a broom.
Rip out the battery.
Hope the landlord doesn't
Knock on your door.
Open another beer.
It's the
Least
Of your troubles
Anyways.

Minimum wage men
With
$200 dollar shoes
And minimum wage women
Expecting $300 bags
From them.
I remember telling my last girlfriend
"WELL...****!... YOU SAID WE WEREN'T GOING TO BUY EACH OTHER ANYTHING FOR CHRISTMAS! WHY'D YOU BUY ME THIS!!"
she cried
And on the
26th
I bought her a crystal
Necklace on twine
From a Mexican swapmeet
And ice cream
Sandwiches.
I mouth off so much at work
All day
Sometimes
I think I'm
Trying
To get canned.
The higher ups seem
Entertained by it.
I've seen the guys
That sweat
Panic
And dream of sales
Get fired.
While I stand in the bathroom
Writing poems.
I do feel bad about
Not putting effort
Into
IT.
But
I figure...
There are more
Humane traps
Out there.

They sell **** to poor people.
But its OK.
They are poor too.
I love that fiction book section.
I feel like I'm getting one over on them.
Hemingway,$1. Saroyan, $1,The Bronte girls,$1,D.H., $1, Sartre,$3, Camus...25¢...
I walk to the counter
"Your total is...$10."
They feel like they're getting one over on me.
Anyways...
(****...I've been drinking. It makes everything seem
poetic.)
I'm standing in the fiction section.
It's next to the women's bathroom
And it reeks like demon's ****.
I stand staring
Lobotomized.
So many titles
So much ****.
But... you never know...
(****... I was just thinking about the time I made a *** tape at 15...)
I found some more
Hem, Voltaire, Joyce .
I was having an
Ok
Day.
Then I smelled it.
Lavender on fire
In a torched
Green-black forest.
I looked over.
A beautiful blonde
Knelt down
Searching the very bottom row
Of the fiction section.
Christ...
May I combust
Now
And never see another
Sight.
She stood up
And stepped closer to me
Our shoulders touched.
"Sorry" she smiled
Green eyes.
I never notice eyes.
Green eyes.
"That's alright."
...*****...
She stood right next to me
Maybe, 10 minutes.
Say something
You lonely miserable *******...
All that reading you've done
She is browsing at fiction...
Say something, ******!...
Then her friends walked over
"Hey,(sunburntlavendardrippinginnapalm) you ready to go?"
"Hold up..." She exhaled
Say something
You drunkard lonely *******.
She stood up.
Looked at me.
Then left.
Green eyes.
I exhaled
Looked at the bottom shelf.
SHE, was there again...
Carson McCullers.
The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter
With her
"You'll never finish me, Ray." Smirk.
I smirked back.
Took her up to the counter...
$3.

When I was 17
In the garage,
I would chug 40 oz Mickeys
Scream
Then hurl them
At the ******* wall.
The young girls laughed.
I used to stick cigarettes
Up one nostril
Inhale
Chug a beer
Exhale through my mouth.
The young girls
Loved that.
Now
24
Drinking alone
In this ****** studio.
I want to hurl this *******
******* designer beer
At the ******* mirror
But I don't.
Where did your
Passion go
Man?
I sigh.
The mirror laughs.
I laugh.
Then open
Another.

I woke up.
I could feel
The world spin beneath me.
It was nauseating.
I put on the coffee
And read
"Nothing is true,everything is
Permitted."
-Sabbah
I took a gulp of black
And thought about
"Every existing thing is born without
reason,prolongs itself out of weakness,and dies by chance."
-Sartre.
I took a big gulp of black
Shaved the 2 month old beard
Then stood in the mirror.
A brand new animal.

Immortality
In 5 tall manic stacks
On the floor.
Locked in a
**** apartment
For a year
Forgetting the world
Discovering
The line.
They scar the soul.
They harden you.
They rip the *******
From your skull.
They get you ready
For what slithers
Out
There.
I often think about
All these books
Sitting neatly on a shelf
In a warm home
While I lie next to
A warm woman
One leg thrown over
Her soft ***
Forgetting that the books
Are even there.

"I gotta starve and pay taxes while
THESE people(roaches)live on welfare, mooching off of MY money...lazy..."
She frowned and shook her head.
She was very passionate about
That.
It's a trick.
They want you to feel
Pride
In doing menial tasks.
It has to be
Somebody's fault
That your stuck here.
I smile at the coworkers
With sweat on the forehead
And panic in the eyes.
Afraid of losing
This.
I smile at the welfare collectors.
They figured it out.
Stocking store shelves
Or
Sitting at home
There's no pride in
Either.
I've tried both.
It's all
Hell.
Everybody
Is too ******
Bitter.
They see the hands of lazy thieves
Where I see
The soft pink hands of laughing
Carnivores.
Oh well...
If you don't want to
Feed them
Just
Become one of them.
It's a
Trick.
I said
"Yeah, well...you gotta eat
Somehow."

My god
It CLACKS like a
*******.
Every key
Combusts like a homicide bullet
Hacks like a machete in 100 degree
Heat
Every word brings
Guilt,pleasure
The neighbors will surely
Pound on the walls
Going insane
From the power of
The typewriter.
I'm 24 in 2015
I've never touched one of these
Things.
When I brought it up to the counter
Of the 2nd hand store
The clerk was a few years younger
Than me
He looked at me like I was catshit
Crazy.
I also bought 2 1940s editions of
The Bronte sisters
That did not help my
Questionable  sanity...
I like this old thing
Every key is ******
And you must live with all your
Mistakes.

Drinking a pint
Celebrating Christmas's
Demise
Then remembering
There's still new years eve..
Remember last new years?
When the ball dropped
You were full of whiskey
Shirtless
In the cold
And all the couples
Started kissing
And you thought about
Her
And death
And wanted
To cry.
*****.
This year
When the ball drops
I'll
Take
Whoever
Is standing
Next to me.
Kisses
Or
Fists
It's all
The same.

Hemingway was real
Good at it.
And
Bukowski,London,Faulkner,Joyce,
McCullers
Fitzgerald,Thom­pson, Kerouac etc.
I've heard 20 year old
Girls
And
40 year old
Women
Speak ill
Of drunks.
I always want to ask
"What did you ever
Accomplish
Sober
That was so
Great?"
Fante always seemed real
Pure to me
The innocence
The young
Burning
Passion
Of his lines.
I read
A biography today
And even
Fante was a *******
Drunk.
I smiled
Exposing the missing tooth
In the back
Cracked the cap
And felt
Even more hopeful.
The blood of
Christ.

It was 6 Decembers ago
I was just a kid
And she was 2 years younger
Her mother drove us both
To the clinic
There were middle aged women
Waiting at the door
And they were mad
At me
At her
At her mother.
We pushed past
Walked to the counter
I swiped my debit card
$365.
Really?
I used my first
Christmas bonus.
Then her mother decided
We would leave her there
Have breakfast with one of
her friends
Then come back
When she was
Done.
I had sausage, eggs, hash browns
Toast, and my first
Black coffee.
Her mother and the friend
Spoke in Spanish
I didn't know
What the hell they were saying
But knew they were talking
About us.
We finished
And drove back to the clinic.
She asked "Well...you learned your lesson
Mijo?"
I was busy, trying to figure out
What the hell
I was now.
"Yes..."
We arrived and picked her up.
Only it wasn't her.
It was something mutilated
It was something murdered.
We got back to her
Bed
And she pulled the covers
Over her head.
I wanted to ask
"...What happened in there...?"
But I cried instead
And kissed her all over her
Wet face.
She was death. Breathing...
A few months ago
I got wasted and brought it all up
Again.
Some girl at the party said
She had done it too.
"What the hell happens in there?"
I screamed
She explained
I was too drunk to listen.
Ya know,
I read Hemingway's
Hills Like White Elephants
And the "operation"
Totally flew over
My head.
What the hell happened in there?
Something.
Necessary.

Ma has a new
Saying
When I drive down to visit.
I sit in her kitchen
And she says
"I didn't know what I was doing. I just wish
That I had been
a better mother."
I wonder if it
Is my face
Or what I came to be
That makes her
Think about that.
"Well...its tough out there, you did your best ma..."
She forces a smile
Then looks down at the tile.
I drive back home
Doing 65 in a 35 zone
Blasting Hank Williams
While all my fellow
Mexicans
Frown at me
From their
Car windows.
I walk into
RM. 101
Crack open a pint
Inhale
Stare down at the tile
Sigh.
Someday
I'll be
Somethin
Ma.

Karma exists!
It is real.
I have felt it.
It feels
Like digesting
A machete.
I have been waiting
Years
For this
To pass.

There were managers
College grads
Conspiring in the corner
Next to the dumpster
And the women complained
About mistreatment
And the men worked with
Aching backs
Dying to prove
Something.
Everybody is busy
Everybody is angry
Nobody feels
Fulfilled.
Some walked fast
Some dragged themselves
Some sweated
Some laughed
Some screamed
Some looked
Miserable.
Everybody submitted.
Christ...
It's just retail.
Every morning
I say to myself
"I'm going in,
but I ain't doin
****
Today."

There were legs
Everywhere
Tensing
Writhing
She crawled
All over
A spider mounted
The horse.
We were spitting
On everything
The church killed for
And everything
That science killed for.
The walls couldn't hold
The shrieking hawk
The coyote howl.
Without the clothing
Without the sanity
Without pretending
We were ugly animals.
It was life
It was wrong
It was nature
It was ******
It felt good.
To stop being
Human
For a few
Minutes.

I never gave a **** about literature.
Until the women were gone
And the loneliness replaced them
And the words kept the loneliness
From becoming
Unbearable.
One Ex-girlfriend
Used to read often
And write poetry
She tried too hard.
There was a lot of big words
Mashed together
And the ideas were always
Too grand.
She wrote a dumb downed poem
For me one time
And pasted it
On the back of a polaroid picture
I loved that picture
Me on a ***** couch
With my beautiful long black hair
18 Surrounded by 4 beautiful 17 year old girls.
I'm only 24 now
But I feel more like 47.
The poem began
"Cigarette smoke in this cold weather
The shiny studs on your black leather"
Something about tantalizing...
She always used tantalizing....
I always think about
Being 47
And laughing about
Nights
Like this.

I couldn't take it.
Watching people shoveling
****
Into their mouths
While staring at
TV commercials.
Some just sat and
Stared
For a whole 45 minutes
Slouched in a chair
Mouth opened slightly
One hand clutching the opposite arm
Looking down at
the phone occasionally
Like there was something happening.
I couldn't do it
So I started bringing my books
To work.
I wasn't trying to be
Some intellectual
****, I definitely don't look
Or talk like one.
Then it began.
First with the short Mexican girl
"Whatchu reading?"
"Nausea"
"Oh...I wish I could read, buuut...I don't know.. , I get bored, even if its inchressing, ya know?"
"You just have to find the right author."
"Oh...I don't know...my eyes juss get all blurred after I read a long time..."
"Hmm..."
Then the old lady
"Hey! I always see you reading, you must be a bookworm like me! What are ya reading!?"
"Journey To The End Of The Night"
Oh, never heard of it, who's the author?!"
"This french guy. Celine."
"Oh? Ever read Game Of Thrones? I'm reading the series now!"
"No."
The college graduate girl:
"Are you reading Bukowski??"
"Yeah, you a fan?"
"NO!!! He makes me wanna curl up in bed and DIE!"
"Oh..."
And some dude asked about
Anne Rice
" I don't read that ****."
"What about Poe?"
"He's ok, I guess..."
Somebody asked about
Catcher in the Rye
To **** a mockingbird
And I wanted to slap her.
A manager walked in
The **** one
"Ray your always reading. It's cool.
You seem so ...cultured."
I thought about being
Drunk
Shirtless
Screaming
And throwing chairs
The night before
I laughed
"Cultured? I don't know about that..."
When you see
Somebody
Transfixed
By the power of the word
The page
The line
You
Just leave them
The hell alone.

The holidays aren't meant
For the lonely.
Imagine,
Going to a department store
Alone
To only buy cheap gifts
For your grandma
For your siblings
For your mother
No lovers
No friends
Nobody exceptional.
Insanity.
And they all are expecting
Nothing or
Cheap knick-knacs
From you.
Nobody to impress.
Then working 10 days straight
Up until christmas eve
To make sure everyone else
Has a memorable christmas.
Christ.
I open the 3rd
From the 2nd 12 pack
Of the week
I open the book
Celine says:
"People don't deserve the restraint we show by not going into delerium
in front of them."
I smile
Dog-ear the page
Hold the brown ale
Up to the light
It is pretty
Like a poisonous flower
I **** the bottle
And time moves like its suppose to.
A fast uncontrollable blur
I am one with the spinning earth
Thoughts and words flow freely
There is no past
There is no future
Just a distorted
Present.
I walk outside
For a cigarette.
I stand swaying
Becoming
Intolerable
To the people
That pass by
Rubbing them
The wrong way
Like a poisonous
Flower.
Christ.
Bring me the
New year.

I watched a cat
Tense up
Spit and hiss
At the sight of
Itself
In the mirror.
The bird will believe
That he is not alone
In his cage
If you place a mirror in it.
The mirror
That cruel *****.
I looked into it
And did not like what was there
But I did know
That- that-
was me.
Man recognizes his own reflection
Then believes he has a right.
A right over everything else.
A right that is not
Fought for or learned.
A right that he
Is simply born with.
The mirror
That cruel *****
Murdered humanity.
We are slaves to the sights
Of ourselves and others
While the cat
Searches only
For a spot of sun
Then lies
In the grass.

The mother feels
Accomplished.
Finished.
By the the birth of the child.
Then the rest of the life
Weighs down on him.
I have seen it.
I have felt it.
And on her death bed
At least he will
Be there.
And that idea will be passed
Through generations.
But I do not like children.
I do not like putting others
Under pressure.
So who will hold my hand
When my time comes?
I carry
All the love
In the world
With nowhere
To place it.

Yeah.
I often drink 10 beers
Alone
On nights like these.
And shadow box
Morales style
In the corner of my room
In the moonlight
Singing Lorca's screaming poems
And feeling Sartre's
Nothingness
I walk the streets of
Los Angeles
Like its ******* Ask The Dust 1939
Ignoring droids and hover boards
Flying right past me
All the good writers are dead.
And all the words are just ******* now.
Especially
Mine.

He was a new guy
He said he was a writer
And ****, at first I believed him
He did have a degree in journalism
He had a miserable look
Greasy hair, greasy face
Greasier than mine
But then he told me
His misery
Came from politics
He only wanted to write
About politics
His constant frown
Depressing stride
Defeated personality
Came from politics?
A strange woman once carved a heart
Into my arm
With a rusty
Swap meet Indian knife
Then we ****** after.
Who the hell has time
For politics!?
They canned that *******
And I felt jealous.
He had a lot more time
To write.

It was our lack of
Sanity
That brought us together.
At the beginning it was
Good
We quit our jobs
Applied for food stamps
Stole from grocery stores
Drank and made
Love
All day.
When the money and food stamps
Ran out
We fled the state
Ripped off banks
Traveled
Then got jobs
And died a little.
When we returned to California
We worked
Drank
Fought
And died some more.
She would leave home
For days
While I sat in our apartment
Drinking,screaming, punching through walls
I was gonna leave for good one night
Until she ripped a hole in her arm
To show me
How much our love meant to her
I stayed.
Until finally
It was dead.
I always wonder
What she thinks about when she
looks down
At that self inflicted
Love scar now.
I shake my head and laugh
When I look down
At mine.
I'll treat the next one
A lot better.

They often ask
"Did you see _ last night?"
"Do you watch _?"
"No."
I don't have a ******* television.
There are enough
Actors acting
At work
On the street
At mom's house
At the grocery store
At parties
At the bar
I don't want to watch more when
I'm alone.
The dancing spider on the wall
The paralyzed lines of the book
The breathing notes of the music
The slow pour of cold beer
I sit here and stare
At nothing
Just like you

Just hit the ******* gas
There are no stop signs
No destination
No laws now
There is a chance of death
There is always death
But you won't see it
Blinded by the sun
All of it's passion
All the burning
All of it's love
All of it's falseness
In your eyes
Just hit the ******* gas
It's better to not know
What lies ahead
Just hit the ******* gas

The last drops of gasoline
Blowing away in the wind
My love sat there sweet
Then spoiled
And some may say it was cruel
And some may say it was never there
But if that were true
I wouldn't feel it was
Going to waste now
The ex girlfriends always said
"Your the funniest guy I ever met."
And
"Your so negative. You hate everything."
My love lives somewhere
Between there
A lone cactus
In an empty homicidal desert
One will give up wandering miserably
Then stumble upon me
******* past needles for
Life

I parked the car in downtown
San Pedro
I stood in the rain outside the
Cabrillo Hotel
The people looked awful
Battered
There was a homeless punk woman
With face tattoos
Staring at me from her dry corner
A 50 year old woman spilled from the bar to the street
She reeked of wine
"*******! Some ******* dropped me off here and left! Can you give me a ride? That *******! My husband's a doctor ******! My son goes to UCLA! Can you give me a ride?"
She reeked of ****
A small ***** old man sat on the bar
Steps
Smoking Buglers
He shook his head at me
"Don't do it son, she's outta her mind."
The landlord finally came down
Showed me Rm. 101
It was a 30x25 space
With a mini fridge, closet, the mirror
A sink to **** in
The landlord said "You can see the downtown from the window."
I looked out
A trash can in an alley.
I just kept thinking about
Fante's Ask the Dust,Dreams from Bunker Hill
Bukowski's poem How to be a Great Writer
I hoped they were right
"I'll take it."
The first night the couple next door
Had a fist fight
And a fat cockroach crawled up my back in bed
The drunks ran up and down the halls at 3AM
I was not happy
But Rm 101 toughened me up
Very well
It became my oasis in hell
I have everything I need
Coffee maker, air mattress, radio
Beers in the fridge, big stack of books, most importantly
A place to get away
From the madness of the people
And when I finally get out of this
*******
I think I might miss it

Waking up
With a half swollen face
Last nights beers rattle
Across the tile
One is opened and full
.Who knows.
The only thing in the freezer
Is a bottle of southern comfort
I lay back down and press it
Against my face
Read some poems i wrote last night
For the first time
The sun peeks through
Black curtains
And I know
That sun is not mine
The day is not mine
But I am not bitter
You can have it.
Besides
There is still a few beers in the fridge
A box of cereal and a pill for sleep
The radio still works
And I am in the middle of
Lorca
Hamsun
McCullers
Anderson
I always start too many at one time.
I shower and look at the hall
Across the street
There are happy Mexicans dancing
They are dressed in nice
church clothes
They can have it.
I hear the Sunday crowd in the
Bar downstairs
They are always cleaner and fancier
Than the normal crowd
There is a live band there today
They can have it.
I walk out to the car to grab a book
And remember it's breaking down
And there are overdue bills to pay
That was the plan for today
No.Tomorrow.
I walk back up the stairs
Make my bed
Shut the curtains all the way
I am not bitter
You should take it
And I hope you do
something
Worthwhile

There are those days
When I don't want to
Open the shades
Fall out of bed
Feel the sun
Be human
Those days often begin
Staring into that ******* mirror
It is not pleasant
It is not kind
It is not me in there
It is real, though
It is the only other person
In this room
On those days
After staring
And loathing
The conclusion is often
"Waaaa! Ray's sad! Get over it
You ****** *****."
That usually
Does the trick
I brush my teeth
I lace up my boots
And do it
All over again

No
The love
Life
Laughter
Soul
Hasn't gone
Yet.
Yes
It dangles
Begs
Is beaten
Set on fire.
It all just
Doesn't
Seem
Most
Important
Now

I was in my room
Opening the 2nd beer
Watching a light rain
While listening to the AM news
When I got a phone call
From an old friend
"Hey man, whatcha doin?"
"Just at home, havin some beers."
"**** man... Well we're going to the bar tonight man, You wanna ride along?"
I thought, not really.
But the radio was only screaming
"TERROR!"
And it was hard to dance to that
"Alright, I'm down man"
I was gonna see the fellas again
They had taken a long break
From me
They had seen me
Covered in blood
Naked and screaming
Wasting away in a small room
They deserved a break...
We were sitting around the bar
Talkin
"Whatcha been up to man?"
One had blacked out and fell
Down some stairs
He was sporting a broken arm
A missing tooth
He said "I been getting ***** like crazy cause of this! They say it gives me character."
I said "****, sounds like
a good gimmick."
Another had been unemployed for
4 years
He said "*******, I just dropped
$200 on a purse for my girl. Then this ***** asked for a matching $100 wallet!"
I said "Sounds about right, that's exactly why I've been alone for a year."
We laughed
I turned to the door
And saw another walking in
He saw me and dropped
his shoulders
Rolled his eyes
Clenched his jaw tight
I don't think he knew I would be there
He hadnt talked to me all year
After I'd insulted his girlfriend
He sat down at the stool
Farthest from me
We kept drinking
Then I got a text from a girl
Who had read my poems
She said I must be sad
Cause the poems were all stagnant
I thought about a mouthful of
Brown saliva
Where mosquitoes bred
Then chugged the rest of my beer
We decided to leave the bar
Bought a 24 and drove to
my buddies house
The one that hated me
Buddies?
I sat drinking at the house I was
Banned from
While lighting a cigarette
He cracked me in the jaw while I
Wasn't looking
I thought I probably deserved it
I decided not to swing back
Then chugged the rest of my beer
He said "YOUR A REAL ******* MAN! SHES NOT TALKING TO ME CUASE SHE KNOWS YOUR HERE! YOUR A MISERABLE ******* MAN!"
I sat and stared at him
Then he apologized
And put his arm around me
"Look man, I love you man, and I miss hanging out with you. I'm sorry I hit you, but I've been wanting to all year. I love that girl. I'm gonna marry her. You can't say **** like that to her! You've been out of control man."
I said "Well... I had a bad year..."
Then another buddy started crying
And the beer was gone
I felt it was time to leave
I got home
Stripped down and
turned on the radio
I knew I wouldn't see the fellas
For a long time again
But
It was a pretty good
Night

She was a hideous
Animal
With a long snout
And sharp stained teeth
She crept quickly
In the darkness
Hissing at passerbys
Dragging her rat tail
Through filthy streets
She crossed right in front of me
Turned and hissed
I liked her
We had a lot in common

I am sitting on the bed
Alone
In San Pedro
In my small studio apartment
Reading Sherwood Anderson
Opening the third beer
I started thinking about the hell
The last year brought
The loneliness
Agony
Then I started to laugh
It was so god awful
I had to laugh
Yes, im still here
******* at a beer
Waiting for greater agonies
I looked over at the stack of books
That kept me alive this year
I thought
You idiot
This was one of the most
Important years of your life
I often daydream
Of being a 250 lb
World Champion Heavyweight
Boxer

It always made me feel
Sick
When a woman would say
"Ya know, I had the strangest dream last night..."
What made me feel sick was
Knowing that I'd have to ask
"Oh really? What about?"
Then listen to a story that meant
Nothing at the end
Pretend to seem interested
Then pretend that I was some kind of
Dream interpretor
While she frowned at my conclusion
I always hated that...
Unless of course she said
"I had the strangest dream about YOU last night."
That I liked
Anyways...
I had the strangest dream last night.
I was sitting in a dim cluttered home
With some middle aged woman
Of some strange faith
As strange as all the rest
She held a 3 foot cadaver of a man
Only he looked more like a doll
With ripped dead skin
And wide bright glassy eyes
She was sobbing and whispering
To the small dead man
Then she said to me
"It's a custom in our faith to hold our
Dead
And say goodbye to them face to face"
She handed me the dead body
And I thought
I'm not afraid of death.
But my skin crawled
******* hardened
Throat clenched
at the sight of it
I cradled the grotesque being
And said
"Well...I hope the afterlife treats you better than this one..."
I cried a little
I am not afraid of death.
I woke and thought about the dream
I didn't know what it meant
If anything at all
I laughed and said to myself
Your pretty ****** up man.