I went out on the corner
and bought a bag of chips.

Then out on the road
I shared a swisher with a Mr. Hellhole
and we happened to talk all night.

Bright and early in the morning,
I woke up
with a helluva hangover
that was written in blood
and shoved my into
what I really was.

Wagging in the wind
was a piece of who I was.

Sagging in my legs if a feeling
that buzzes

Fuzziness is fleeting
and it clouds my thought-filled head.

I'd rather eat some nachos
so I don't feel so dead,

I'm so sorry
I know I'm a maniac.
I know I have a nervous disorder
and this is the most
bombastic
Asstastic stupid
******* horrorshow that I've allowed myself to be.


I can't see anymore.
I have self hate slime
gooeing up my eyes.

My life is a slovenly horror show lie
and it's breaking me into little pieces

What's my credit score?
It's all lies.
and I want to cry...
and shy away from everyone.

It's all lies.
everything dies
and I'm apart of it.

I thought life was lit.
but now I'm burning down.
Don't frown and cry for me.
Feel good. Eat food.
Live life.
Have fun.
Have dogs and go vacation.

The world is gonna blow up some day and all you'll have is memories.

It's something we all can see.
Make a day.
Please..... have fun.
For all of us....

Light clicks off of keys
Clacking,
I gulped
ice cold water
and It made me breath.
And it made me think

Paper smells...
Wet paper
held in a cavern over night
while fires lit the walls.

I never knew that that night would
play all out like it really would.

But it did,
and so it should.



Predestination thinking can be fleeting
because all it will do is make you ill.

When you die,
no one will care if
coke or pepsi
is what's really REAL.

Still I'm holding on
for the hope that I'll find a willful women.

Not a savior.
Not now. Not then.
But someone who can really love me
and really be my best friend.

Waking up
On the edge of a sandbank
stinking
and pulling stink bugs out my hair.

Waking up in the desert
sweating
and letting scorpions build a lair
in my tent
and in my boots.

Shooting hares and ravens,
for meat.
For a thrill.
It's not with it to go through it.
But still I ****.
I knew..
It would hurt but I would live,
but not in peace.

Living.... with a shiv in my ribs made of the bones of all I hurt.
I'd rather nerf my brain a brain and build hut made of dung
A yurt padded with bad memories, and hurtful lovely beings.

Stamens float above the stems
of all upended stalks.

Arthropods can crack their
old shells upon my rocks.

Tricky little fishes find so many ways
to out smart me.

With out my sunglasses,
in brightness I can't see.