All I did was abstained from trash built feeling
I mean I drank gatorade
By only sweet sugar is what stayed.

At the reunion,
I held back in the corner.
Watching people walk passed.

It's lasted at least an hour.
I refilled my seltzer glass with a shower of ****** *****.

So, in a effort to pass the time
I perused the guest book,
and used the socially available sharpie.
Made available for signing.
In order to remember.
Instead I used it to draw a HUGE, crudely
rendered manly member over as many faces in the yearbook as I could.

I stuck a butter knife into my childhood tree.

Just to see.

Never. Not ever would be me.

I'd rather die that gleem a glob of hate after a shaft had held us fast.

I'm Sorry.

I'm boiled water that would never last and stack us upon stale oxified office keys.

Please. I'm sorry.

Just send me to bed.


I'd rather be dead than answer a question that held my soul in remission and stuck me on a hickory sticker post caked in hate and held up with stagnant sand.

Sifted through a scouring pad
I had ten pounds of hellbent powder
and a shower of hellhole bits.
Bits that lit when dawn will light the rest of life

What can I do when she wouldn't leave?
I know you're cool but we need at least ten years,
so how,please how should I grieve?

I googled how to bootleg, so I can learn how to sell my favorite movies and have all the free ***** I need.

Pardon me for saying that I should have found out how all by myself.

I used my first batch of wine to pickle my corneas and sear my kidneys.

Although it's tedidous,
I've abandoned the mortem of the tedium
of face harsh advances.

Standing in a copper cage is a molten knackered weathervane.

Naked, I abstained from God.

I knew I was bad, so I knodded.

But GOD.
I'm appalled.

I'm out in pasture packed, knackered rack dealing.

Let me die.


And give my something to chew.

I chawed on all of my raw dealings.

Squiggly, giggle-painted patterns.

Nature curing writes offs,

licking life off moons of Saturn.

Totally tanking,

Making way

Ruminants in mood.

I learned that I'm handsome if you like
a mud-caked stud.

Flickered in a lamp
Was the last light I ever saw.

So it's time to fight
because I'm at my last straw.

We'd never had a night
Or held a monster head.

But instead let's let light
into us.
Into us all.

1.  "This isn't how I saw my life ending..."

2.  "I don't end anything that feels so new.."

1.  "...can't breath."

2.  "Don't look at what I'm going to do..."

1. "People don't bend that way."

2. "Most people don't, that's true."

2. "Promise me you never felt anything."

1. "You know I would never promise anything to you."

We'd gone feather collecting every evening since we've met

I've settled on the corners of the lips that look at me

Every evening after

without her feather

Lots of passive passes
Living on a cliff side
Shoals, seagulls run around like squirrels
God I love the sound of life rushing around

Well you never bought a pass,
and we never asked permissions
But tonight we've permitted ourselves to indulge in our mission.

Out of all our stories, we had found a few
that dig into your psyche, and set your soul astew.

So tonight, and tonight only, don't go to bed really late.
Because we perform an hour show, but it'll last all life if you let it.

Only three acts, just like you learned. but we act like it's forever.

Please eat before, so you're instore, for our hedonistic endeavour.

How silly were you?

How afraid did you act?

I billy clubbed your sugar out of your back,
and I acted liked you were my brother.

But really, you werent.

Sugar you burnt.

And I glowed in a softball saccharin deal.


Still, I'd feel, felt molten stolen molted ****.

I'm sure.

It's the native indian bit.

But I let it all out.
And after I shouted how bad I felt.

But still sticky words held me tight.

And I'm left in the ground.

Without rights.
Without words.
It's okay,
it's absurd.

Just let me go to bed, like it said.
Just let me got to bed. Please. Bed Please.

Sitting.
On oak planks.
And splinters sticking in my ***.

Pitted.
Placed on a saucer like a high-class olive.
And I had never learned what mass was.

Still, on seclusion.
Held on a highlight board.
Held up to the limelight of precision.
My work can not be ignored.

But even after I had held it.
Up close and to the light.

My ***.
They can smell it.
I don't care.
They can share it.

They can see
and they can smell
Just all what they can see.

It's nothing.
I've ruined your sight-seeing.
Because all you have is just me.

Shoved off our red hot suffered shackle

back brazen stripped out spine bits stack higher than I can see

Bleeding out of wood grains are sandy strips of solar flares that stare back at me with a stupid grin.

I pumice ****** off the grimace writhing, then stained with lye the burning heads, severed without cleansing.

Stuck with a red hot poker made me skin burned and sticky,
and it ripped from me my whole world.

Shivering, I stirred.

Numbness makes sense when life's absurd.

I slipped on a pair of sneakers,
Waxey, slick-soled.

Obviously mottled with bleach blots from mopping too many floors.

Made, canvas first,
the cured in a patina of labor.

They're comfy, and rugged, and they will probably last
twice as long as me.

If my shoes could see and endure the future,
do me a favor:
Please don't ever tell me what they will see.

Boiling Boiling Boiling.

Rolling caustic water.

Boil.


Boil.


Burn up the most peaceful thing.


Wait for them.


And boil them in water.

Do it.

Do the most hateful thing.

Turn the kindest element in the world into a cauldron full of slaughter.

Yes and no,

Seeds,
grass and leaves,
then dust,
then snow.


Yea and naw

Padded with sight, and saw.
Precognition,
Patience,
Natural roles will play a part.

Snoring,
in sleep,
still stirs others who aren't you.


Storing up sins,
that don't show today,
but they show up in you some day.

Boring isn't a sin.
It's the beginning and the end of
every story.


Nothing, I'm not sorry.
Lost, that's a big negative.

But live.
I don't know yet.
I can't say unless I gave all I had to give.

I came across a patch of trail plums along my errands.

I stared at them and thought that they were real small.

So, I tried one.

And found out that size is not all congruent
with flavor.

The bigger plums were fat and nice,
a taste that I could savor.

But the greatest plum wasn't fat and right.
The greatest plum didn't light my light.

The greatest fruit was soft and subtle,
and much harder to obtain.

I climbed a hill, a fence, a mountain
To taste that fruit again.
I knew.
I understood.
That the fruit knew that I would
Climb a hill, a fence, a mountain

Just to appreciate.
Just to know that fruit can grow
In a way that I don't hate.

Innocent purple, tiny little laurels.

It'll hurt like a pimple when I popped your brightest morsel.

So...Lets linger instead into dreadful fatty food.

Because it'll be the mood, instead
That will shape what we do.

So.


I held a bug and it was dead.

And I was I, you see.

So instead I'll be much better than

what ever you'd thought I'd be....




Yipee!!

Wriggling in my cast iron stew ***
was a bunch fried up lives with no soul

Biggering a smile lines up
With a thousand gallon malcontent pool.

Owed in after thoughts on rafters on left
bacon and inter muscular fat.
It's that and high blood pressure
that's on my mind when I'm at bat.

I'd soaked my sad *** in saline water to see if sins bubble up.

I had had bad noxious knowing notions while wretching up a sip,

A sip of sour, mineral remissings caked on cornered eyes.

Salting, sour corners of mourning lives.


So, instead of feeling something,

I poured molten oatmeal in my bowl this morning,

Just to stay alive, and feel something warm.


After my fifth cup of coffee,

I got bored and stormed out the door to challenge all the

Vagrants at the park to chess to buy a case of ramen noodles.

If you find me on the corner
You'll find me on me knees
I'll play you some music
I'll take a dollar please

I don't need really anything
But what life want's from me
I only pay what they think
It's worth to live and be

I have to eat and have to sleep
But really not much else
I can feel the payments creep
and ruin my sense of self

I want so much to just be free
To have no where to stay
To live in huts outside of me
No one to show my way

MUCH

I lived.
I had try to live with in her in a heart stained way.
Like lights on top of a hamburger shop.
Showing space, showing something we should stop for.
Because I haven't been paid.
I haven't been laid and
Neither had she.
So we should try to light a fire tonight
Still hanging out trying to see
Just how we should be.
It's not free, feeling another.
It's a fight you should show you should flee
and begin to be known.
Like a robin whose shown
a better feathered beat
A battered stray cat.
Clearly we have an understanding.

Windmill frenzy happenstance
Parked in pregnant gallant lance-staked cages.

Pages of paper from only old news
Eschewed all agenda
Bend build in propaganda and human feelings.

So long on coast of oceans had we plants,
and waiting for silk, love, and gold to float our way

It played upon stars, ajar in the air from old collisions.

So provisions placed for me only seem to be stories and memory.

Held in a concrete roach shell.

Smiling, I had hated charming shaving.

Little, bitty shavings.

Shredded.

And held an inch above my head
when I never knew a knowing rapture.

It'll hold.
It held watertight.
And it'll capture when I'm right.

So show them my poem.
Please tell them to see.
Please tell all your kids
Life's not about livery.
Living a life in filigree fables
Can blind an eye that sees.
Stinging is the story
about shaking up the bees.
Something shakes my bottle
and breaks my battered brain
I could fight a battle
and let full life me abstain.
Stretched in my own dominion
I pay for my own pain.

Soft speakers.
Lured.
And held in secret.

Blessed martyrs.
Maybe matrons of
health and hell.

So, maybe.
I should be okay.
And maybe, so should you.

I found aground about battered chafe a windrow full of hair.

Soaking into the ground was innocent blood caked with despair.

After climbing loads of hills, on skis from a dead Fin.

I found a supply depot where I could fit in.

I found a place in a broken world, placed fried potatoes on a plate.

And after hell had passed me by, I sent myself away.

Captured on the blue lined edges of paper
Was an envelope, wrapped in parchment.

A sort of stipend built in jelly
and telling me how to feel
about supporting systems
at the same time as
stacking and ticking time
off of your belly
Melded out of celly made systems
The rhythm is the joke of it
stoke in fires
the lyre of arhythm
a prism and animal
happy trap built apathy
a rapture be some sappy he
turnabout into a ninety three
under the knee
how bout it be

I made a snack tray out of anarchy and stale sandwiches.

I made a ******* stack so high that I'd be lying if I said it wasn't cool.

I stood, high up high on a stool after making breakfast.

I lied, after folding fried bread into a spiral, and then I died.

I tried to fold it in a square,
I dared to sow salt into a dare.

But, that didn't matter.
Nothing is near nowhere.

I'm a cold person.

And I'm good at being cold.

I've been told I'm an old soul,

But I'm not so good at being old.


I'm not sold on the oversold notion
that being old means being tired.

I've felt the most old at my youngest
and my most ancient is when I'm most wired.

Who would stand to live longer than those who live off over others?

Who would survive in a world turned upside down?

Is is the tiger or lion who only eats when they're hungry, and lays about the rest of the day?

Or is the scrapper?

The raccoon?

In a world that can only serve scraps,
courage and valor only take you as far as they go,

In a world that can only serve scraps,
what are the eagles in store for?

And what of the scraptakers before?

The pigeons, rats, and raccoons will soon inherit the earth soon, they will be the only ones that can stomach it.

Mealy motion could have gruel in her veins
I've abstained from all forward action
Because it's my heart that she reigns.

Coolness sent shiver down a pain killed nervous column
Section of spine dealt with ***** and filler
To **** would send spiller space messages
out to help in order to assuage
all the speculation and guesses.
So now it would seem better, much better,
much better in deed
Much better indeed to **** my fire with greed.

I had bad manners, but I scattered a couplet of culinary dealings into a platter of shaky masses and unironed dresses.

I had crispy dishes stacked in the sink,
and it stunk. So, I plugged up the matter whole to show that I'm still think about how hard life can be.

So, sorry...Lemme see..

I had bees in the garden, that polinated my assets, so I could finally see.

But that's all.

Im starving.

I no longer want to be but the brisk shiver air had spared my whisker hair, but after, I'm sorry. I'm left in a pile of knee-highs and overcooked fries I left sitting on my seat after a retreat to the nearest McDonalds.

I've dreamed.
And pictured a fragile rock.

So, I picked it out,
and sent an image of footage.

I sent it out.
I did..., I thought... Why not?

So...
instead of peace...
instead...ugh..I thought...
I figured...
ugh...
I just...
I must
ask...
What?

So I'm sorry.
I'll go back.
It took a long old little sory
to finally fight back.

Classification is hard to predict.

how **** impossible would it be enough
if you hadn't made enough food in your family so
we could all be safe?

Three days after pasta night,
It's alright
It's only food,
and we are so poor
so don't be rude.

She told me to calm down.
She told me to stay still.
She was my most favorite drug.
She was my xanax pill.

I took her with me everywhere.
She shook me late at night.
I laid in her house late in day.
God... I loved her. Loved her light

But she kept me as a pet.
Like a bird starved in a cage.
God...it's outrageous how my pain she could assuage.
I loved her, loved dearly
She made me a pie.
A pecan pie.
A pie taught by her mother.
God.. it made me cry.

I lost control.
It took a toll when I had to give her
Give her my mind and my food....

I grabbed all my groceries without a bag after I heard half a revolver full of bullets pop off.

My meat bag soaked a paper sheet and started to lose integrity,
ripping at the seams, and it seemed normal.

So, I freaked and I bailed, after I showered, my drain looked like a rusty glitter parade and it made me feel *****.

Take me into a soup shop.

Take away my boyhood please.

Take me into  boiling water

So I can never see.

Gently pressed into pages on our family bible,

sprayed with Pam and Lysol were stages of life held in suspension.

I didn't mention the Giger counters,
mounted up meters of stone cold serial serious business.

Still, I'd be remiss to miss our beauty made of grass, and dusty weeds.

Landing in both sockets were prongs that made my life
Lighting all around me while puffing on a pipe
Lit by fuel built fire is just like coal made light
Frightened by the guile of an act I feel is right.

Devastating rigmarole backwards asshats

enacting lackadaisical marshall guffaws

Law enforcement dogs push sugar coated cremation

Led with force, inciting indignation



Pleasant little patties sizzle on my grill

Bluegill fritters fashion out of flour and cornmeal

Make me make sense hopefully

Cementing demented ambitions is fishy business


Dog treats make me look like cornsilk hung high up in the sun

Songs are something frozen in my chamber

Popsicle lips horned over pickle juice

wax paper skin never looks silver in the sun

In my mind there is a place
Something I still can see
Breakfast on vacation
Accessed in a memory.

In my head was something
made out of clay and hell
but it's still so cold
tempered with love. live lovely bells

Every morning
Every day
We both needed each other
and breakfast
and a way to get back home again

To get home,
for dinner
love
and fights
and lovely heart built stories
made for your and my delight.

My crush made me a stupid house made out of cardboard.

Because she is so stupid, she rushed her feelings, and made a made up world that she stole from frenetic fantasies and little xanax pills.


I was stupid too, and cooled her off with *** and comfy mattress pad because I felt like a badass for having such a badbitch in my comfy covers just because she liked my ****, and was too thick to think about how radical it was do spend all of her love with a crazy bull dozer like me.

I thought with all four of her welfare made eyes she could see just how beautiful and disastrous you have to be to get on the hilt of god's golden sword.

It's not beautiful.

It's dead.

and it's morbid.

Soreness only engaged extra forces.
Let reason and shake
show force unlike
any that has ever been seen
obscene was british command.

Let the biggest brightest take command of larry in clinton.

I swear.
you are
you are
the 'shy *****'

let your general wonder how who you are.
you're just poison.

the reason we lose.

who would take position the commander of chief once all the soldiers die and we have decided to submit to british laws and decide a way to lose.

who would make us? who would make us lose???

Glassiness is the debt I made in my eyes.
Money's overrated
and so is love.

Love is like a masterpiece
that you see in a show.

It's real nice to be by it
but it'll blow you up and know
just what it did.

Bidding for a fancy life
is a horrorshow
is exactly who I am
and it's all I'll ever know.