At the corner of 12th & Main
I am reminded of
the night you couldn’t
stand like a newborn
deer with pelvis
resting on broken glass
bottles tightly curled
around your lips
resembling
a girl
in a cocktail dress
the one whose
neck you kissed your mouth
a slot machine
BAR BAR BAR
hacking up
cigarette butts and what’s left
of your dignity

At the corner of 12th & Main
there is the scent
of liquor stained
into the pavement
your skin cells made
impressions
on the pavement
body rag dolled up
like a cadaver
on parade
and I your Grand Marshall…
I’m sorry
for scuffing your boots

At the corner of 12th & Main
your psyche collided
with concrete
sunken
inward to slish and
slosh on a whiskey
tango tidal wave or
was it tequila foxtrot
see now I’m
drunk too

On the corner of 12th & Main
An attempt is made
to fashion
a gurney
out of what’s left of
wasted anatomy
two
fractured carcasses I am
one of them your brother
holding your feet
marching
like funk tossed in a
blender, frapped
Emily is there
She offers you
her couch and me
a bottle of *****
and *******

In Emily’s apartment
I took you
to the bathroom
your fragile
husk
shivering on the
chipped linoleum
dehydration
and a smaller frame
will do that to you
promptly I got you
some water and a blanket
to no avail
so I held you
in my awkward
limbs
till your bones
were silent

I have died many times. My body hung next to Jesus at Golgotha. I was once decapitated in the French Revolution. I’ve had my eyes gouged out at Gettysburg.

I have died many times. My chest was riddled with bullets on the beaches of Normandy. My lungs dissolved and I had a stroke in Auschwitz.  My skin baked, bubbled, and blistered from Hiroshima to Nagasaki.

I have died many times. I bled out from a ruptured heart during Columbine. On 9/11, my rib caged cracked and I even stopped breathing.

_____________________­

I have died too many times. I shot myself in the head last night. Dream-spells dripped out from the void and so I shot myself through the heart, stuck my fingers in the hole to see if it hurt and it stung a little.

I have died too many times.  I took an ax and split my head open; a flock of pigeons were pecking at my cortex. They flew out and church hymns rang from my cerebellum.

I have died too many times.  I lit a bonfire in my brain; the light burst from my eye sockets and now my head is a paper lantern. I clawed at my chest till I ripped my heartstrings; they sung happy birthdays in Arabic so I blew out the fire.

I have died too many times. I took a baseball bat and busted my face open; I was swinging for the fences and swallowed my teeth on accident.

I have died too many times.  I tore out my stomach, drank the acid, and ****** myself.  I tried pulling my lungs over my head just to suffocate.

I have died too many times.  When I discovered my spinal cord, I plucked it out, wrapped it around my neck, and hung myself from the tallest redwood I could find.

I
I hit my
I hit my head again and I
and I can’t get up
I can’t get up off the floor
off the floor that creaks and
that creaks and is cold
cold and I don’t
and I don’t remember my name
I don’t remember my name or yours.
and you were
and you were important to me
to me you were important
I think
I think but I hit my head
hit my head and I’m bleeding
I’m bleeding from my ears
bleeding from my ears because you
you lied to me
I think
I remember
you lied to me
lied to me
and I remember your name
your name is God

I love to get drunk.
I love to get wasted, hammered,
plastered, intoxicated,
white girl, ****-faced drunk.

I have many stories about getting drunk,
from racing up the street and back naked because I lost another bet
being stripped down and thrown into a
shower after vomiting on myself,
or having *** with a ******* my friend’s couch
(I call it my *** couch now).

Okay so most of them I end up naked
But that’s the glory of ***** my friends!
Enough can make you feel like you have clothes on
when in fact you clearly do not have clothes on,
(We know, it’s cold, no one is looking at you’re **** anyways),
It can make you think you’re dance moves are on point,
Give you strength to punch a dent in a fridge because you thought someone was talking **** about you’re friend when really they were just talking about skateboarding,
It can even give you the courage to walk over to that really really
cute girl and tell her how much you want to put it in her ****.

The point of me telling you all of this is that some people have given alcohol a bad rep.
Obviously all the people who drunk drive and get into accidents.
But no, I’m talking about people like… the douchy frat boy who gets obnoxiously drunk, calls everyone a *** even though he’s probably a closet homosexual, who borderline tries to **** girls with his big muscles and amazing ability to care so much about football. By the way, I’m not you’re ******* bro.

Or the dumb girl who thinks she can drink a million shots and be okay, the one girl that pop punk bands always sing about, who end up puking everywhere, or sleeping with the douchy frat boys while all their friends call her a ****, and then she’ll make a post on facebook about how all guys are douchbags, among the other dumb **** she posts on facebook like stupid life quotes such as #YOLO

Or even the hipster who has ruined drinking PBR in public forever.
(No, I’m not a hipster, I just go to art school and PBR is cheap, you *******.)

And to those stuck up individuals who tell me that drinking is bad and I should feel bad: ******* and the high horse you rode in on. Saying I’m an alcoholic is saying that I have more fun then you. I have never met an interesting person who doesn’t drink. If you don’t drink, you’re a boring **** and all you’re stories ****. They all end with, “And then I got home.”

Alcohol was God’s way of telling us the world’s a ****** place, so he took a little bit of heaven and bottled it up for us, and if you believe any of this you’re probably drunk; Not the part about bottling up heaven, the part about God existing. But if I was you’re god, I would sprinkle wine out into the night so when you looked up at it to wither time away with questions to me you’d be so drunk with the moment and forget about being saved. Because life isn’t about heaven and hell, it’s about living and being alive and being drunk with the people you love.

6% alcohol content
In the bathroom binge drinking
Again Beer,
Cigarettes have always been a vice and
Bourbon Blitzkrieg!
My friend once ****** on a statue
of The ****** Mary but
Blood is not suitable for children cause
Macaulay Culkin scares the living ****
outta me and I
Desperately want another kiss
from that baphomet I met in Brooklyn
SHADABOOM!
“English *******, do you speak it?!”
Marsellus’s soul was in that briefcase but
He don’t look like a ***** praying to
birthday cake, Praise the Lard!
Whiskey tastes sweeter with honey and
another night down, another **** in my mouth
In case of flame(er), beat him.
Off with the good book because
GodisdeadandsoamI

Remember when we did,
And I bit my tongue hitting my chin on the concrete
And we laughed,
        Well you did,
I lost a lot of blood,
From hitting my chin on the concrete
        And we laughed.
You were showing your chest to strangers
        I was a stranger too,
Then I crashed into your mouth tongue first
       And yes, it was still ******.
Your hair got stuck in the garbage disposal
Hands caught in my zipper,
       But I helped you.
I stumbled on your leather jacket
You wrote love notes on my skin
And the sun snickered.
The strangers watched us
On the bathroom floor
The ****** a gold wrapper
I lost it, but we didn’t care,
        Well I didn’t.
The bathroom tile is nicer than concrete
But you still bruised your knees
        And we laughed.
There was a bite mark on my neck,
        It swelled and I liked it.
I hit you but didn’t mean it,
We broke the bed but didn’t mean it,
And yes, this is a second time but didn’t mean it.
And you were drunker than before,
I was trapped in a box,
        But it was just the headboard falling.
There were bruises on my collarbone.
You saw them and we laughed,
        But that was the last time
        Cause he called
        And I bit my tongue off
        When he found out
        Cause his ring meant nothing
        And you don’t talk anymore
        Well not to me
        But I laugh
        Cause you forgot
        This is your fault

Fig Newton Vanilla Wafers
Like sand through an hourglass
The smell of Doublemint Wrigley’s
Gum that lingers in the air like
Your poltergeist hanging on a string

Chicken and dumplings
Christmas at your place
There were so many pictures and
Do you remember me anymore?

Quicksand neurons coughing up
Phlegm and congestive heart failure
Diabetic membranes hooked up to pacemakers
You’re kidneys were caustic waste bins
And you ****** yourself

Cancer Cancer
Don’t shut your eyes
***** and hypertension
Hyperventilation
My mother is crying
I’m crying
Don’t die
Please don't die
"She’s not responding"
"Somebody say something"
Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace

This is the Devil’s hour.
It’s when George Lutz hears the ghosts
And murders his family in Amityville Horror.
Shia Labeouf get’s high on acid at 3:15.
I decide to write a poem.

----------------------------------------------------------­--------------

For 4 hours
I’ve been trapped in the Internet.
From Facebook posts about feminism
To related searches on Google.

“Mexican **** Takes Huge American ****”

A video of a man receiving oral from
An eighteen-year-old Hispanic girl.
After ******* on her face,
He spits in her mouth
And slaps her with a foam finger
That says, “America is #1”

The cameraman then says in Spanish,
“Still happy you’re doing ****?”

---------------------------------------------------------­---------------

As I watched this woman degrade herself
It became hauntingly aware
That I could have stopped watching at any time.

The men in the video were pigs
But then what does that make me?
A ******? A lonely man?

Not to say I gained pleasure from this.
I don’t get off on
Women being demoralized by
A ***** (the true icon of male dominance)
For the ****** entertainment of others

Man is not a wolf,
Man is a parasite.
(My self-included)

-------------------------------------------------­-----------------------

My eyes are made of glass
My head like a bag of hammers
Insomnia got the best of me.

While in the shower
I watched the water bead on my skin,
forming puddles in the creases of my
hands and I think about existence
and what it means to be human

To express how drifting into
the ocean feels like a kaleidoscope and
day and night don’t mean anything

Why we don’t kiss
strangers more often, the kind where their tongues
slip past our lips and heads and hearts burst with
feelings of real love, genuine and true

There are times when I wish the world would end
and during our last seconds, everyone would become
transparent and sincere, the firing of a single neuron
would stretch a mile till the tension
snaps, traversing synapses,
neurotransmitters, endorphins, and
loving thy neighbor

While in the shower
I see tangents in liquid universes
that form tidal waves in the canyons
of my brain and I think about you

To express how falling in
love with you feels like a bomb cloud
and you and I are one in the same

Why we kiss
each other so often, the kind where my heart
slips past your ribcage and fear and anger collapse
under our love, fruitful and wild

There are times when I wish the world would never end
and during our lifetime, we would be
euphoric and free, the corner of your eye
could tell a thousand stories of
our first kiss, jubilance,
and loving you

I remember my old street. (North Overlook)
The people there never changed, like a television with the **** broken off.

I remember my boxer, Brutus. I would let him lick the inside of my mouth to freak out the other kids.

I remember eating honey suckles in the back yard. I also ate a whole bottle of Tums in the medicine cabinet. (I thought it was candy)
I once drank a whole bottle of nail polish remover, but I puked it back up.

I remember having a jungle gym and a swimming pool. My sister and I swam naked in it once.

I remember when we touched each other’s private parts in a fort we built in the closet. She made me smell my fingers afterwards. My nose crinkled upward and I thought it was gross.

I remember when my mother came home crying one day because the hair stylist cut her hair too short and she looked like a “****.”

I remember spending mornings at grandma’s house. I would watch The Price Is Right and Days of Our Lives. She would fall asleep and I would clean the wax out from her ears with a paintbrush. I remember enjoying it.

I remember my first ****** nose (I used a whole roll of toilet paper). I could taste the blood running down the back of my throat.

I remember all the other ****** noses and calling mom from the nurse’s office

I remember Mr. Iles (3rd grade) screaming at his class for being idiots. He drove a motorcycle to school everyday.

I remember doing times tables in his class. I was always terrible at math and thought I was stupid. We watched the twin towers fall on television. I didn’t know what was happening so I continued to doodle on my times tables.

I remember in middle school being the only one at my lunch table wearing yellow.  My friends became gothic. I didn’t know what that was, but I knew I was different.

I remember my first art class in high school, thinking I was better than everyone, and I was.

I remember the first time I masturbated. I don’t remember how many times I did it that day but my **** hurt for a while and I walked funny.

I remember my mother trying to teach me about God. I never told her that I didn’t believe in him. I’ve always felt guilty.

I remember my first girlfriend. We dated for 7 months. My friends hated her, and I stopped talking to them. I remember hating them for it.

I remember the first time we had *** it was **** ***. I didn’t use a ****** and my **** was covered in ****.
She was great at *******. She once ****** me off in the backseat of her grandma’s car while her grandma drove. I forgot about the time she threw up on me.

I remember she loved Disney and nicknamed my ***** “Captain Hook” because it curves to the left.

I remember the day she found out she had ******, she told me over the phone. I cried because it was my fault. In high school health class, they didn’t teach us that if you have a cold sore and eat a girl out, they could get ******.

I remember when she broke up with me and went back to her ugly ex-boyfriend (now ex-ex-boyfriend). I cried again. Her friends stopped talking to me.

I remember it was on my birthday. (Friday the 13th)

I remember the threats over texts to leave her alone. I told everyone at school she had ******.

I remember eating lunch alone. (A lot)

I remember shutting myself in my room and not eating.

I remember when I tried to **** myself with a steak knife in the kitchen. I didn’t do it right. My mother asked me what happed, so I lied and told her it was an accident. I don’t think she believed me. We still don’t talk about it but I still have the scar.

I remember making art. (A lot)
I did nothing but art (That’s all I had.)

I remember making friends in my art class and how my teacher would dress like a Jedi.

I remember meeting Bobby, and Brandon, and Tyler.

I remember thinking that art had saved my life.

I remember the first time I smoked ****. It was in the parking lot of a Best Buy with Brendan and Kristiana. I didn’t feel “high” and we ate cupcakes after that.

I remember drinking a beer for the first time and hating the taste.

I remember, “It’s an acquired taste.”

I remember, “Drink it, *****!”

I remember the first time I got drunk. It was at my brother’s house and I almost fell asleep with my head on the toilet. He carried me to the couch, emptied a bowl of pretzels and set in under my face. The smell had me dry heaving all night.

I don’t remember the first party I went to.

I remember my mother worrying if I would make it home those nights.

I remember making friends with people from Sayler Park They were in a band with my brother, but liked me more. I felt bad for him, but I was drunk. I went to other parties they had. There were always sweaty teenagers and *****.

I remember the guy who ****** on everyone in the mosh pit. The support beam broke under us that night and the floor almost caved in.

I remember ******* in the front yard. It rained so we were mud sliding in puddles.

I remember the two girls making out in the bathtub naked. Bobby took a video of them on his phone.

I remember when he tried to get this girl to sleep with me. Her name was Lauren Luckey and it was her birthday. She found out I went to art school and had me draw smiley faces on her and her friends’ *******. She started kissing me over the sink (her hair got caught in the garbage disposal.) She bit my neck and broke skin. It was 6 in the morning.

I remember she took me up to the bathroom and we had ***. I remember her taking off my boxers with her teeth. Bobby tossed me a ****** but I lost it. Curtis (he owned the house) came in and ****** anyways. He told me I had a cute ***. When he was done, he left the bathroom door open. There was a line waiting to come in that watched the two of us **** on the eggshell colored floor.

I remember waking up the next day and finding out she was engaged.

I remember the first time I had a pizza from Dewey’s and fell in love.

I remember when I started smoking. My mother gave me **** for it. I always complained when she smoked (I used to break her cigarettes.)

I remember the summer my grandmother died.

I remember staying the night at her house the day before.

I remember when my mother called everyone into the room. I remember, “It’s almost time.”
My family crowded around her.
One of my uncles fainting while the other vomited in the corner.

I remember my mother crying. I remember crying.

I remember “Amazing Grace”

I remember when time froze.
July 11th, 2013, at 1:26 p.m.

I remember my uncle walking over to her, pressing his hand against her mouth trying to feel her breathe. His brain wouldn’t let him accept that she died. I remember him looking up at me like a lost boy, looking for an answer. (I didn’t have one.)

I remember my mother told me she was with God now.

I remember.

Love is when a heart
Offers a place to stay and a
Visitor becomes an
E**ternity

Lips and fingertips
Send hips on trips:
                                   Her  cherry  *pit

(WE ARE!)

The space pioneers, planetary colliders seizing the heavens and placing them on earth, pop pop big bang brain busters that spin galaxies into milky ways and planets into candybars, the alien humanoid reflectors reflecting the sun back into Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

(WE ARE!)

The fire-starters, self-combustion, canvas arsonists. IGNITE! Light the streets on fire with your blood. Explode, implode, and explode again. Pilot to bombardier, we’re dropping bombs like Guernica.

(WE ARE!)

Wild creatures born out of black magic, black mamba, bear your ******* fangs! Be a predator! Find you’re prey, rip it’s ******* guts out, and paint something with them. Then scream, scream so loud that Munch himself would tell you to turn it down a notch.

(WE ARE!)

The creators, the ground shakers, the earth quakers, inventing ideas, gushing thought, and gushing blood because remember, you are alive! Alive with creativity, passion, and energy to create, because we are artists.

Drunk,

With logical operators out of sync
He marches

Temptation fixed in his mouth
Pockets erupting fear
And misinterpreted erections

His mother sits in the corner of his eye
As another shot of Jamison enters his body
She’s worried about his faith in God
While he just wants to **** something tonight

“He’s a teenager.” Daddy says

But Daddy smokes a lot of ***
And his boy has sin in his heart

Spin, Daddy, Spin
You’re head is on backwards now
Gaze placed on another dime bag

Now your son is in the bathroom
With a girl pinned against the door
He's sliding his hand up her skirt
As tears trickled down her porcelain skin

She was 16 and a ******

As he pulls his pants on, he smirks and says to her
“You lost your sheen pretty lady.”

Cincinnati is a family
town where cookie cutter
houses are bunched up like
sardines painted in pastels and
white. Where East and West
only meet in the
middle of downtown.
Orange barrels dot
the potted streets and
neon clad men work
in 90-degree humidity
just to earn a lower class
income.
The Queen City’s throne
is the revolting Ohio River,
a murky green waterway
filled with monsters and
dead bodies.
Polluted streets are
flooded with homeless caravans
mimicking
sewer rats and everyone
wants a smoke.
People worship a Bengal tiger here,
Oh, and pigs can fly.

Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother.
They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand.
They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums.
“They came too soon.” I was told
Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said.
When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die.
*
Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck.
Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies.
Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled.
“Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….……
recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..…..
……………..­Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute…….
………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.second­s…………............................................................­.................................................................­................
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………­……………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………­………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision……………………………………………
……………………………………………………………………………………………………­……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………T­he sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..……………………………………………………………………………………………­……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………­………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”

Baby you don’t have to cook or clean
just sing for me
and I will love you

I never cared much for
politics or
       the jam between my toes
       but I guess it keeps me
company
       when winter loves
December and
       my feet sweat pushpins
       I’ll sometimes catch
snowflakes on
       my tongue but who really cares
       I’ve always suffered from
seasonal depression
       but I think it’s just an
excuse
       to tell people I hate them
or to count
       fingernail clippings in the sink
       Maybe I have a snow globe
for a skull
       thawed out and marinating
in a pool of
       whiskey hung over
       a bucket to conjure
Flies
       or was it Spiders harvesting
my insides
       I pray they lay eggs in my
lungs
       so when I speak, someone will listen
       Spiders to keep me company at night
when the lights turn off
       to eat the toe jam I’ve collected in
mason jars
       but the sound of a match striking
always scares them off
       so I light a cigarette to
summon my Demons
       Because maybe they will be my friends
       But I plan on dying alone
with my whiskey and Flies.

Lips and finger
tips send hips
on trips and some
sink ships. My ship
slips and trickles
down a rabbit's hole

I thought you were
a queen. Red cup of
liquid gold with dreams
about caterpillars choking on
smokestacks and fungi.
“Who are you?”

Even the Mad Hatter
would call that fiction

--------------------------------------------

Those blender-chipped
lips I kissed, that left welts
on my skin. Those Cheshire
choppers that could ****
a cat. You were no queen,
you had a heart of black

You twiddle-dumb
**** with wonderlust
thighs. Drunken eyes
and heavy lids that bid on
empty shot glasses. This
ship has done sailed.

Jabberwocky babies shoot out of your bandersnatch
“Off with their ******* heads”