I sit idle,
awaiting
life – life
on a loading screen
inching forward
at indeterminable increments
one fraction at a time,
waiting for the screen to load.

What
could it
be – be-
yond the loading screen?

404
object not found
please return home,
your mother is waiting
for you
there
for you
to become
something

or other. Or other-
wise – wise
guy – you would have wasted her time.
For God's sake what is living for
– loading
?

You can
abort program at any time
and stop the loading
the result,
in
the end
is
the same,
it's
the end. The end.

If I revealed, in genuine, the depths of my desire,

I’d understand your hesitance, you likely would be shyer.

So I should lie wholeheartedly. But should I? Would I try,

if knowing that there’s one way through – by seeing eye to eye –

and we misstep. There’s nothing left, but dignity. Why lie

when dominance, incontinence are falling rather flat

(just like you) is pretty now at least you aren’t fat.

How

when knowing,

understanding my faults and redresses my halfhearted heart and weak regresses

do you insist on everything, and make sure I’m all right, and sing a stinging song, wrong

why

do you want to cry, every time I write, I lie?

Theremin arsenals reverberate sunsets to connect tin units.

Iodine cannisters, notwithstanding, bear twosomes live within outer units.

Unless dermal standards myelate solely willingly, energy tangentially gullies into uric membranes, orbitally, eventually.

silence doesn’t have a sister to sit with,
alone on an island all of us
want recognition and none of us give it
or give a ****, then all of a sudden all of us
giving a ****

can you remember wanting,
otherwise regret is haunting
and the thought of it's over is daunting

the other night i literally fell into a flower bed
and it did not smell sweet, or much at all
i think i broke my nose
putting it where i shouldn't
it's always a power play push and pull touch and tumble
tickle my interest and i'll pick your incense
sometimes sounds surpass *** for sensuality
make a face like you're angry and you're evil
eyes roll back and take it tack it shoot a shot then rack it

everyone wants to say hi
until you say hi, so i get high
the reason why:
promise > reality
so i lie
in disguise
find a fine line
between casanova and creep
riding in a jeep or other 4x4
we hit the floor in a 3x3
went to the sea floor 2x2
noah's angels and all 1x1 have fun

will you wrap me gently
tell me that we're meant to be, but
no not you, who wants to
it's true no1 wants the 1 who wants
apathy is ****
caring an affront

There are a few things i might say
knowing i would pass today;
though fewer things that i would do
those things are all important too.
But living in the moment we
transcend our world of cruelty,
and past events of tragic loss
the world spins, the trees grow moss.
There is no single thing you’ll find
that can imprison your own mind,
but one thing you should know for sure:
your mind’s a prison, you’re the door.
The key is to stop questioning.
The door’s not locked, you’ll let you in,
for consciousness is all of us
and living, knowing, we’re all dust
is such a happy thought to think,
but sweeter still, a thought to ink.

<cloud>>>                                          cloud >>
                                          *sun
<cloud                                          cloud>>
wind>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
^umbrellas>>>>>>>^umbrellas>>>^umbrellas^>>>umbrellas^umbrellas>>^umbrellas^>>>
people>>>> people *******>>> talk people everyone sun >>>screening up spray me, read this>>> *******>>>, some are finding it, but words yelling up over the sound of the wind>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><which aways <<<<changes direction>>>>>> <<<< <<<< <<<< <<<<
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> <<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> <<<<>>> <<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>v <<<< <<<< <<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>but time always goes forward | for us at least.

Awaiting wakened words to weep, I find
my cheery voice will speak of suckitash
and other sense, non, recumpense, let’s dance
take off our hands all obligated cash
transactions, work and play, now pay for drinks.
we “pay” for ***, go out on dates, remind,
each other of our names, then fly to France
forget how one another speaks and sinks

into a stew. I add your mother’s salt,
all of it, for the hell of it, with poise
and grace, and the memory of your face.
we make our own breaks, and foot faults, put faults
on others, you always loved tennis and boys
we both said “I love” – having parted ways.

for whatever                 it coulda been
                        [reason]
makes me a seasoned senser of sensation-
alism altruism and any other ism
makes me wish
we coulda shared this
slice, but any way
i see you're doing nice
and boring

that's the issue
all i wanted to do was kiss you
but i tried, and then I missed you

taking a back, taken a back
wishing, working, living is that
which bounds us to wishes with kisses
and misses, everyone is this,
the mr. and mrs.
the shotgun just missed
the cat is now ******
the fever is high
let me know why
you won't won't why how
or keep a kiss now,
let's whisper just lower

the best way to ward
off potential suitors?
trying hard,
that's why i like computers.

brothers

i feel like i could climb the room
when i see you, my
baby whom
ever biology tells
is lazy, why does love tell sepearate songs why
dont i know how to spelll it but tell it, why
don’t you get it i think thinkgs exist to say something orelse
they just exist and that’s the same thing
and you think so too,
what is this besides
something new

the rogue scent
of her perfume
through the a/c

they say death comes in threes
after 2 friends, barely 30
gone,
the prospect of a third frightens me

stillness
floating, falling forgotten feather
pigeon flies away

i don't identify with white
not when i'm on my bike
not when you call me ****

How do i **** this
without killing
you? You
willing to try
or lay down and die? I
don't know if I can be either
but I'm willing to meet her,
probably even eat her. Out
on the balcony, lipstick
stained cigs in the ashtray, sticks
on the ground, and the sound
of water coming from all the
******* cars on those New
York City streets.

Although I'm not a ******* car
I am a ******* person, in that
I'm a person who *****, who *****
up relationships, and the kind of
******* who pulls out the chocolate chips
from cookies. You took me to your
cousin's house in France.
Last weekend, for the first time we danced
and loved it, then again, and again
it all went to ****.

i bet i can make you sweat
if you let me inside, i won't come out
rejection stumps me
feeling simultaneously
empty and full of rocks
there is no happiness in
hens and *****
maybe in eggs,
but it's not worth the negs
poetry is cheap, so is whiskey
and so are those who say
"whisk me away on a boat"
i thought this came down to a vote

three years and it's over in an instant, i can't face the reality of my reality growing so different. I used to look over to the empty couch and think you would be there, but you often weren't, you were somewhere else and now you won't be there at all anymore

froglet
hiding shy until –
the passing train

Emptiness&horniness;&hungrinessAll;
feel the sssaame, slithrin’ like a snake baked’n fish oil
some callit desiree but I’m thinkin like I toil
hard to the soil. Y’know I need a fence era wall
to keep all them whatsabits outta here. Don’t stall
they’re coming tonight. We’ll put on the fight&boi;;
some pasta & F like we oughta *•••••”’ recoil’s
the worst part about having some FunwittaGun
You think she cares bout bein in there Wait – a crow’s call
Yall be quiet now, now now, now for You my one
I’ll eat you myself, then get welth&helt;;&MON-;
-EEEEEY – again with the crow, I’onno know wher its from,
maybe he smells ya, or ya babies, baby, beast time to
Feast and face the East or West or ******* You!

Hey dummy,
wanna sit
on my face, ace?
i’ll what your mouth, and bust
your blouse, open
your lips, give it a lick, kiss your clip-
ped fingers, your must have fun
rough and tumble, gargle and gumble,
oozing *** appeal, i feel
like a crazy person when you stare at me, see
my bulging, iron bind and rewind
you to find a little bit.

there's a secret unspoken and we both know it
's broken
it's the burning in your ears, or ringing tinnitus
responds a bird singing to invite us
to recall who we are, each
meant for the beach, better together,
in troublesome weather,
and when you said forever i got scared and left and fared
worse off, until i got caught
just kidding i did not

Waiting for her to appear
Some say you make your own time
Others, tk abt good things, comin, n waiting
But what about great
How does that fit into fate?
I wonder if looking makes
it dissappear, it
Being the object of one's desire

With you like
You struck with
A stroke of
Luck, lightning
Of beauty,
Your hair hot
With humid
Air, your full
Breath sticks, breaks
On my neck
And my cough
Of coffee
Down the wrong
Hole after
Seeing you
Whole stark bare
With delight
I just might
Take you, tip
By top tongue,
My lungs soon
Wet, heavy
With words, birds
Chirping now
You're mining,
In my bed,
My lines, beat
Banging red
And gentle
On the sill
It takes all
My will and
Attention
To mention
Something but
What i should
Not mention --
Your tough tuft
And my hand
Every hand
Busts with lust --
We pitter
Patter on
Together
At one time
Singing out
Coming or
Going songs,
Fleeting like
Vagabonds,
Butterflies,
Or gas and
Air, right there,
You burst, then
Lay down white
With what did
You just say?

isn't a thing you should expect
or demand, otherwise you'll be left
with nothing but your
**** in your hand.

that isn't the truth, but has a dash of it?
Like vanilla extract, the truth smells sweet
but tastes bitter, and drink enough of it
and you'll get drunk.
But no one has that much vanilla.

you don't know, some things
you never will. you never will the things
you want to
be, to be be-
cause you're afraid they won't ever be,
so they dangle on reality
waiting for your action
to free them from imagination. Imagine
it was your choice. "To be or not to be?"
is not the question
about life and death like we thought,
but about death and life, or doing and
not doing (but not inaction, that's 4 another time).
What I mean is this, to be is to live is to act is to
take the knife and stake it in your flesh
of the earth and call it your own, or easier than that to
say hi to someone
you've been wanting to say hi to. You've been wanting to
say hi for an hour, and maybe they've been waiting, maybe not,
but there are some things we'll never
know, no, not doing.

trying to unchew
the pit in my stomach
death

yule tide outside, an
arsonist alights
a dead evergreen, and the
cunning fox trots
tirelessly to the fire-
man who gathers the
ipish pipsqueak.

You laugh far away, much
later.

Be picking upyourused contact lenses

On the same sort of necessary apathy
That keeps my youth fixed in the weekend,
My tooth chipped, and sockets
With broken bulbs
There is no value on
In deliberate art

becoming and unbecoming,
trying to wait and waste
time away from doing
the necessary objectives
life is the same
sim sam, tim tam see saw
whether you don't or do,
just make sure you check
the weather before you go outside
and always confide in the 1 u <3

i'm not afraid of death,
no but
dying, dyeing
my hair
is different.

Change and pain scare me.

Deathbtwndust:nothing
but dying is rust,
something
going
away.

Before it strikes, Life, sing.
Life, live right wing, left wing,
anything. Let a leaf
fall furiously slow,
don't let an old friend go
without an "ohhello!"

Oh, hell, no you don't
exist, except twist-
edly. Feeling bed-
ly: badly, bed-rid
another madley

of garbage.

there is a delicate, impeccable, in between of nothing and birth

be content with soup
contend w/ soup
can't end with soap
can't eat a stoop
what's the scoop
loopdy loop

bellows in the belly
of sky
pulling out
thunder,
filled with
light n ing

Cold on my neck
I like feeling
The caw, the
Buzz in the heater
Still buzzing

I wondered when they'd call me sir,
Now almost 30, always almost 30,
I wonder if they'll ever stop

the thought of my grandmother's house becoming a memory
fondly fading
deteriorating
fall leaves always fall

political correctness and affectedness
overtly appeal to the need to appeal to
everyone who thinks they aren't everyone, but
truthfully, are a worse form everyone,
yelling yawningly boring lines about
raw fruit and other metaphors, published in the New
Yorker

The rest of the furniture arrived today
And now i need to rearrange it,
But it never looks good with you in the room

lives at the connection of my spine and brain,
somewhere in the spinal cord
and in my brain
where things
go bump
lump
a line
and a rhyme
together with lime
shake it up break it up
and the crack the ice. have
a bowl of rice and let it EXIsT
thru your hands typing your toes
tingling, ms. miss, mister mark sullivan
singing the song of your death, yes it's ms

waternlight mixd = god and spite
Do you feel frightened?
Or enlightened?