Long and passionate or short and sweet./
Old Aunt Mabel’s peck on the cheek./
French or American, it matters not/
Long and languorous I find hot/
Experienced or ingénue/
Always enjoyable and new/
Given by mistresses or/
Bestowed by Misses./
In a pinch I’ve made do
With Hershey’s
kisses!

How many cups of coffee
How many cigarettes
How many ****** poems
How many life changes
How many sleepless nights
Until I feel
Like I felt
With you

Change is necessary.
Change is require.
But is change sufficient?

Change is a diversifier.
Change is a niche filler.
But is change transformative?

Change is not good.
Change is not bad.
But then what changes do we keep?

Heuristic small change we like?
Perpetuating idiosyncratic Absurdities?
Selecting traits for "survival"
in a world of our own creation.

Do you understand the Michael Jackson trap?

Real Evolution is easy.
Diversity + Mobility = Survival
But cosmetics is much harder.

What will the monkey see in the mirror?
Will he like my face?
Will I have diversified my humanity,
change my BIOS for faces,
to an arbitrary Facebook,
Unrecognizable to a nostalgic monkey?

true submitting to demands of neurosis curves to the sound of the force of the force fed horizontal forced impressionable for back ache for mystic soliloquies or morsels of black fungi distilled fat and oils silver obsidian dragons dust agony panoply of **** feeding axis and disturbed screaming mosquito

ledges crumbling arts dissolving back arching needle spine spinning hovering roaring crackling cumulus demands
ideal reduced form mountain shivering clapping breaths maximum fulfilled broken bones and shattered psyche forced unconscious patterns in vicious tongues in absolution watered and paint plucking ******* abbreviating one in out and rage deciding or stumbling into oblivion some decisions or preternatural prophecies fueling dueling serpents arrange pedantry forced entry excessive force forcing logic skewering shaming wailing panting wasps

Don't you think that it is a little strange?
Everything I do is just a waste of time.
Possibly a never ending cycle of nothingness.
Restlessness stays with me in my sleep.
Every night I am in unrest. 
Speak to me with words of encouragement.
Sing sweet melodies to me while you hold me.
I will sleep then.
Only to be awoken by terror.
Netherworlds do exist.

my breaths
your breaths
and two heart beats pulsing in the quiet grey atmosphere
pavement
soil
and two hands intertwined at night
and all i can think is that instead of lying on top of it, i would rather be buried
beneath it.

i think in puddles of oil, slick and polluting
when i speak it comes out as smoke
negative thoughts inhabiting negative people
i heard that secondhand smokers have it worse

i am okay with becoming another statistic
"a growing symptom of the world's disease"
-- as they put it
they can use my sleep as a method of change, as long as i don't wake to see it

in the morning, i sit in the quiet hallways and drown myself in music
because if i don't, i don't know which way is up and which direction is right
but why does it matter?
i always think right is left and i pronounce my words wrong and they say it's okay to make
mistakes but don't you dare make a B

i think about sitting on the edge of a nebula as it's forming,
watching things so much bigger than you and i take place
but we began there too

sometimes i think about the fact that time is a manmade concept
so i can't waste time or spend time
when it isn't real
so i can't give my time back to the universe
to keep the stars turning
instead of me breathing

sometimes i think that maybe if i am mean to everyone i care about,
they will leave
and i can stop worrying that they were like you
and never cared in the first place.

the class i don't cry in is the class i do the worst in and if that
doesn't say something
then i don't know what does.

you told me i was special.
who were you talking about?
you said that we would never amount to anything
and you yell
and you refuse to understand
and i could never tell you that those pictures are not of me
and that i don't want to be good at math
and that i want to crawl inside my own skin and hibernate until my cells dry

but it's okay because my dad said there's nothing wrong with me

what if
we have felt
everything we
will ever feel?