Rejected. Cast down.
Whose boots to lick
for readmittance?
Wing clipped. Horns ground.
Whose feet to kiss
for readmittance?
Coffers emptied.
Nothing to sell
for recompense
Aim high. Take down.
Plummet from sky
face searing aflame.
Kids are just kids.
Kids will be kids.
Let them learn on their own
Sick ******* joke

I feel like everyone hates me
But i know they could never hate me as much as i do
And i can't help it idk what to do to love myself but i just can't i just hate me too much to ever even accept i have to be in this body for the rest of my life... would it help if i make it shorter?

the kindergarden down the road
                                         had a revolt
            and the children insisted on self directing story-time

   two thirds in
     the hero abandoned their quest,
   turned into a bubble
   and evaporated

       the adults insisted a story needs a proper conclusion
                                                but they knew better


walk by

    light in the distance
bares at me

is it moving?
...
no
      it's not.
ah-
  it's gone now
...
  no
    there it is again

there     gone
there     gone

a silence becoming
and a silent vacating

unnerving  comfort


    the skateboarders down the road
         chiseled all the letters out of the road signs
    till all the tourists were helplessly lost
          / excuse me,
          / sorry,
          / what way to the lookout?

              \ you're already at it
              \ just keep going


a wail
   oscillating
bares at me

a bird or a car siren?

too organic for a machine
too regular for life

…

never mind

head home


  the church groups down the road
                          formed an action committee,
                                                      ­      after the flood

                       even had some humanitarian in
                                                              ­ to give a slide show

     but the software was updating
                        so we ended up watching the loading bar instead

              while the kids played in the puddles outside


    the asphalt damp
is borne to me

figures keep passing through
unformed spaces
with unfathomable ease
  alacrity

fragments pop glitter
     valley sparks
         of disheveled winter

pass by

tumble down through
grassy banks
  to the vermillion ocean

caulk the lungs
and drift

You: "hey man I love you, But no ******* way."

Some people say that they will give you the world!
Forgetting the world exists inside of your head,
with every sense, behind our eyes we create the universe...

Silken shirt slides over bare shoulders, my soul rests upon my skin.
Secrets lay between my thighs and you eat them as if they taste of truth.
A quickening pulse, shaking hands. My body language hides words in the hollows of my neck,
but your tongue can't decode the difference between ******* and falling.

10 percent
flee to tropical places
drenched in trust-fund dollars
taking life for granted with chrome plated bliss
expelling brags with finesse
while others choke to pay rent

Day by Day the phone calls come,
Day by Day the knocks come on my door,
The Hounds have been released,
Baying for blood,
Baying for the liquid green blood they call theres,
Baying for my hard work,
Baying for the liquid green that i harvested,
That i Worked for,
The Pencil pushing hounds have been released.

Day by day the hounding comes.

she reads meat
eyes in a meeting
persistent of the trysts of leather
her steady trap-door arose
in her deposition
the latitude of her nubile degrees
Procrastinates his step,
Subtly overdubbing the scrawny pallid ache
In the etch'd skin, her color-by-numbers comes undone.