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.

Straw.

dead grass is all I saw.

Passed in the moment i meant to be alive
all life is just a patch of grassiness.

It's an obsession to pick apart the source of life
to make ourselves less remiss.


But even still... it hurts so bad.
I'm glad I have no guilt.
Cuz if I did, all what I'd feel, is every pound of what I built.

Actually, and after,
Beds, before, bravely built
Came cross crew, caulked, caved
Dove, dived, dug
Entered, expected every entrance ever.
Finally, few first felt
Gaul, grace, grossness,
How high her heaven held
In interspaced indifference.
Just jokes,
Kiddies kidded
Like little liveries. Like lost little laughs.
Most meet
Not next, not never, not neat, not nice.
Only over onager onery.
Please place people, perhaps past pain, past peaks, past pimples.
Quit quivering,
Right rangers, running round ranges
So soften such seals
Take tough touches
Under udders, undulating urges.
Very verified visages.
Why worry? What's worth when worrying?
Xenonphobic xenons xeroxing
You. Your yummy, yearly
Zone, Zoo.

I heard it crashing.
Lime-soaked hell
Dripping on a haven
MY Haven.

Made of stone.

It's an iron maiden
Licking off
every mineral

Taking everything
until I'm all alone.

Held,
in the stillness
Like a lake.
But it's so small.
It's all I have,
and ever needed.
I bled my heart and soul
into the pond across the street.

It's bleak to think that
It never mattered
and I would bet my soul
that it's mind
over matter.

No talk,
no love
Just water
and the blue sky above
just hold your nose
and let no water in
just let me say
whatever should have been.

Mandibles stroke against a stork on high noon.

I blew a cloud of candles to make us all swoon.


This is very much off putting,
I can see only glass.

It's pudding in central air while you stair at my ***.

I apologize for forgiving how sharp shells can be.

Because I dig  hella deep in ground that I can barely see.

I hate to hold you hostage.

But what I hate less
is that I don't have a life to give,
and my girl woke girl cares even less.

I dug a deep hole
to hold up a fence post today.

Held up with hardened mud
Was a re-bar
maze of cringes and shudders.

Concrete.
In stolen, steely kindred, killmonger, kinds of
courtship killings.

Let me make sure
that all my heart-spillings
is anything but truth.

Shove off,
and behoove
who should, whenever
they would
make a mind a sinful ocean-built
souls assuaged and sure of notions
held near the hilt
of our poison-bit dagger.

Lagging. And lacking
in age.
It's just a turn.
A turn of the page,
of the story of long-lived life.

While tying flies for winter
I found myself clipping apart
All sorts of animal fragments.

While spreading soil for spring
I found myself smelling of soil
and **** and earth leavings.

While living in life and in summer
I've be encumbered by guilt
the guilt of a creature at ease
but i'm still just a creature
who is allowed to live at
summers eave

While dying in autumn I share
Just because and how that I'm scared.
and dared to go love
and my love sent a shiv.

Only her
for my life
I would spare.

Seven days
laid out in a lawn.

Leaven air in ways
that we can smell at day

It's only shade
when fires burn at eve

It's the only way...
air breathes, too much for us to grieve.

Padding padded pockets is a leaf of golden steal
Leaving lovely leaflets that I read, and have to feel
Falling from the fountain that shot hope up in the sky
My most favorite leaflet is the one that makes me try

Glass light shines on shattered edges
and hold highly the carbon of stunted beds.

Same ...like...Frosted carbon bits will polish better
and a set of copper arrowheads.

I hate to hate on the dead,
but instead of copper and chrome

why not instead lie in wake for an alloy
to keep you from pain instead?

I coughed up a pile of commas this morning.

So, instead of feeling bad and storing them
in a box,

I sent them, mourning, I sent them to my cousin
in a plastered basket cage.

Cuz I'm so afraid,
I'll assuage and fear them when I seem them.

Until then, I'll page my border.
And stage my life, in order,
to cook things, even still...
I'll spill over moving truths,
piled,
in little puddle,
but muddled with all the kooks.

Sandpaper shawl.
I schlepped back into class
in a sandpaper shawl after all the hell i'd been through.

I glued buttons on my
Sandpaper shawl
and scrawled in chalks all
of the meditations I learned
while I was trying to earn my black belt.

It' felt great.
I wouldn't no longer berate the less
cognizant mission.
Initiative is is alive form of protest.

It's the most and less of the human
full on experience.
Don't get delirious, live.
Please love
Please give

My favorite smell I ever smelled was a bit of dirt packed in a hole.

I feel like my favorite food, is just the favorite food of a fool.

I like starchy food.
And tough personalities.

I can smell good people,
a sweet smell at an ease.

I thought I knew a people,
and I hope heave for my friends.
But my pursuit for greatness,
I'll die before it ever ends.

In line for the new roller coaster
was a group of ex-protestors
in cobbled monogamous flocks.
They squawked and squawked.
She warbled.
He wooed.
She swayed.
He swooned.
And she only had sunscreened her front.
Her back must've stung.
Bright red.
But I bet she reserves her best stories
for unreserved reservations in bed.

Tell me that I never knew what it meant
when the wind blew threw the trees.

Tell it's only lens flare.

Tell me it's the green dots that appear only
when we saw green dots of the light
showing through the trees.

So often is shows whenever I write
That delightful full awful commotion is a spread
Dead it would seam if stitches hold meat
I'm sticky and all greasy from excessive heat
How lately I've had me
How debatingly bad it would be to
Find and to fill
Life spent off of broth and dramatic action of the
Edge of a window sill.

Last night I had a nightmare.
Last night I was a worm.
I did not have a spine,
but that was not my concern.
All I eat is dirt and ****,
and that's alright with me
I don't even have eyeballs
I hardly want to see.
All I am is fodder
For food
For good
Animal be.
I have to poach my culture for existence
and humanity.

Aptitude test
Last night I had a nightmare.
Last night I was a worm.
I did not have a spine,
but that was not my concern.
All I eat is dirt and ****,
and that's alright with me
I don't even have eyeballs
I hardly want to see.
All I am is fodder
For food
For good
Animal be.
I have to poach my culture for existence
and humanity.

Settled in the the dried up grass
among the thistles, tired roots, and nettles.

I've settled,
I know I'm not a succulent.

I'll repent but so should you.

I hate vegan food,

but your beef based, chicken stew
is gross,
and I'm not one to lose my subscription fee.

It's food coloring on habitats that I can'ts see.

I will never use my arm.
I can't raise it above my head.

So... Instead.
I'll used my legs and my feet.
And still try to be neat.

I placed a layer of salt

on the edge on my ceiling to ensure

that I would not wake up

to gallons of flooding little faults

that had very little to do with me.



I set up shop in order to protest

the last part of a legislative article.


I had died several days ago, but my
farcical sense of humor had bemused
and encumbered me to the point that I would
never could what I had, because I hate myself
and I feel bad.

Instead I popped up a hopeful hopperfull of plenty of popcorn
smothered in butter and unsolicited carbs.

It's living large,
because now I know I'm not starving.

And turns out that just because I'm not unhappy or thriving
means that life is worth living,

and it's nothing.

Not worth my time to wonder and marvel at the life of other people.

So there's this thing I've learned lately about people. Folks, I should call them.
They're not as folksy as you would think. I've come to learn that the link in the stink in the air can be directly trailed to all the tumultuous tripes and tropes will place on one another.



Drip into the lamplight liquid.
It will make you limp.
A liniment of livid, paraffin feelings.

So, in dealing with the stresses of soft bodied faces.
What would it take to take apart an edifice of feel like love's graces?
Space is empty space. And empty words are worth a lot.

Like a space with smiles and faces. And love words. Herbs.
Like bergamot.
Like chives.
Like rosemary.
Like basil.
Like reciting Hail Mary.
Like reveling in fried chicken.

It's normal folks that are bestricken.
With hell. And fire lances.
And fresh meat. And naked prances
But hateful hearts make unfaithful food.
And food's what makes you good.

Golden petals are soggy,
riddled on frozen ground.

Silver is so lonesome, so it peddles
real problems while run around.

A mound of ****** and taxes turns into
electrum and magnimation.

To learn a word, don't ask.
Just look it up.
And avoid cognitive degradation.

A life can be spent battling, to try to heal all sick men
And pen up such swine in a straw built ceiling

Turns out when pigs can destroy
When above you they try
to build the sties that they make

Instead of mud-straw
It's just saliva and stool
Cemented with the drool of dead stoolies.

I've fermented a brew, that taste like a stew
made out of beautiful life
But it smells saccharin sweet, not longer seems neat
No longer holds honor to actions.

So instead I'll build a faction in life that honors other factions of fate
Frats and Sorts that lack hate.
No longer berate something
just because it wants to be living.

It turns out that the lady bugs that I found in my hair
Aren't there because they're lucky
It's in fresh air that they repair

I can walk much longer than those little tiny dregs
I wish I were more stronger
Or could climb on a monster with big legs

Maybe find a universe
Much more large than me
Someplace where I can feel so small
With a lot of place to be

people will like your words,
but they won't like you.

They like pepperoni pizza,
but they don't love the goo.

It's okay, I understand.
Nobody's quite like me.

But what I see is instead a sort of class story.

I'm poor so I don't get a second chance at having fun..

But if I were white, and were not brown, I'd have a better chance at having fun.

Edges of burnt up, bleeding ****** paper

All over and all torn up

****** was written in blood upon a paper

Maybe we're indifferent,
Maybe we feel crazy
Maybe it's out our experience
Maybe all they are is crazy.

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 found a fountain of fabulous fractals in my sprinkler.

I never knew, but somehow she showed me in a rainbow of facets.

So.. I let it go, knowing anemia is iron rations.
Taken from me.

An iron ore.
So i'm sure.

Placed.
So patient
A nickel.
Who dimed.
And show a nose of who rhymed me.

Holding, from tearing apart.
A bridge of angels was a pin of crystal air.

A nail made of modest minds
A pin that held what's where.

Even still
hope was what was
and I never had to be.

But sir.
SIR
It all collapsed.
And I can no longer see.

Hog-tied and Stolen.
Gone.
By the wayside.
And stolen.

Old little goatheads stuck in my heart.
Little poison *******, shoved in from the very start.

Little boiling *******,
blown in the air by Pompeii.

It only left a visage.
A portrait.
Of me.
And everything I ever wanted to say.

I can not believe how much time
TIME i spilled and lulled into a lucid black bath of hate built laquer.
It's like the rapture in gopher holes.
I'ts like dynamite lite with hate on the tip of hopeful poles.

I've worked much harder on sounding off than making sounds,
and that's not making me as well rounded as I thought I'd be.

So, i'm gonna see what sorts of things that make people want to hear,
because if I'm hearing what they're feeling, then they'll hear just how I feel.

Sent on the sheets of my favored bed.

In light was friends, and ever after it extends into fire.

Only fire isn't free.
nor should be.

I can help you if you
promise to help me.

Into it, light up on the world, she crested on mountain edges, bound barriers likened her to a sage in old legends.

Still, there it was, all night.
And there I was within sight of her.
And it was like there was a  pleasant air about the bar.
Everyone was friendly here.
Some people, in friendly ways, kindly kept their distance.
It was even, warming buffers.
Noise and those smiles that seem to adore two talking.
Set pace, even in the next space the volume was for being a part of one another.

Dermible detritus set with us
tarps and oil
Soil set with toil
Boiled in bags of tripe
Chips and chicks who titter
Gave me pick of the litter
Loyalty has soiled me
and sent me unto hither

I ask you for a question
Lessen layman make me walk
Make me milk my maiden
Make me cut my stalk

Showy showman dyin'
I felt a lot like cryin'
Cause cousins cause the answer
I call it family cancer
Dancing with my girly
Surely felt so good
But death is still a dealin'
And it's dealin' good.

Sit with me

Please stay still

I feel the reckoning over arching

black hole swallowing up the rest of me

"shush baby"

" Stay under the stairs and don't breath"

" Oh god this is the end of me."

Oh god....


I see you.

Stay still


Don't breath.

And for the love of GOD

Don't let it be

I had crammed a whole load of garbage
into the bed of my best friend's pick up.

Luckily it was made by us
as a message of how unassuaged
we were about living in a dirt bag all day.

So, I should say that this is a win.
I'd even sinned in my pants while
leaving everything up to him.

Only thing I regret binning was
my huge win I had with a hippy girl about a day ago.

Little fibers.
Little tiny pieces.

It's dirt.
It's called "dirt."
It's earth and inorganic matter.

That's true.
And it's called air.
And it's really there.

Splinter little trinkets
Fastened with rivets and copper solder.

Shrinking, biting steam vents
Passed over duvet covers and sing a little louder.

Blasted, offensive convents
Massive ******* oven tidbits.

Tragic gas based slaughter
blotted with blood and shriveled cygnets.

Blended in the quilt were old stains made of mud and painful mournings.

Like chili sauce, caked with tears and mud and storm water.

It was laundry that can only be made
by flowers functions off of sunlight and hate.

A thread made of light, cleared with love.

Love is a solvent, from her lord above.

I brewed up a couple of cups of coffee before my best friend woke up.

She had wanted breakfast, but I was broke,
So, instead I'd suggested staying in.

I could make up a *** of coffee,
and put together some food.

I would take cups of whatever we had last night,
and forget them.
I'd forget them soon.

And instead we could just laugh and make
a day out of how we feel,
instead of living of life feeling how we should
wondering.
Really.

Reeling and having happy moments but never feeling food.
Goodness held in graciousness,
understanding, taking it all up like a fool.

Glassiness is the hell that's
happened to crack my blood-soaked eyes.

And crass presumptions
hold little hell when gumption is what belies

Belies a holy belly,
Held in hell,
but built upon holly and poison ivy stalks.

Still,
I don't talk about green deals
and I don't care about water.

Not long enough.
Not enough to falter.
Not enough to give an ear.
Not even enough to breath.
Not enough to give a shoulder.
To cry on.
Enough for the earth to see.

cut cut CUT CUT
skinskinskink...
COOKCOOK COOK COOK  COOK
sin sin sin

SLEEP SLEEP
eat eat
SLEEP SLEEP
snore...
ignore..
ignore
"Shhh"
"Don't breathe..."

"Shhhhh!!!! baby boy!!"


"HUSH!"

"shh.."


"please baby boy"

"Ignore....nore........nore................."

I had a dear, named Bonnie.

A year more young than me.


I fed her yummy food.
Made her laugh to try and see.

I tried to make her see
What I saw
So she would stay.

But she loved me in a way that would scare my friend away.

She saw, and finally said;

She saw what she'd thought she'd see.

But it meant a lot.

It meant a lot.

that she would act.

that she would be the same the same girl.

After five years.

And that showed me, I'd have to change who I want to be.

Not to see her again one day, because I knew she'd go away.

But she taught what I should strive to be, if I want my best friend to stay.

Musky wine or sweet whisky
Can I feel the words?
Dense cheese and listful misty
sullen sorrow birds.
Hold me in their heart
They catch me with their eyes.
Flying by fly shiny pieces
Stealing all my happy faces.
Flapping flapper birdy types.
Flippy flirty wordy tripes.
So sappy and so sad.
God it makes me mad.
I thought I was the worried one.
But I'm the only one you had.

I saw a ******* monster hovering over me in a dream
and I decided it was time for it to die.

And I tried.
I really did.

Instead my Id took hold and sold me out
into slavery.

It's amazing that my freedom sold itself for love.

So now I'm a puppy-dove in a cage made of safety and food.

It affects my mood
in the fact the effects should hurt and now that they do
I'm eschewed of all personal beings.

So seeing myself in the mirror
is the only spirit
I have left.

Don't take it.

Please.

It's all I have left to give.

I used to click stones and rocks together
I pieced apart their worth
I imagined shore from long ago,
I imagined the life upon the shore.

I used to think about my dad,
They're dad too
What he's worth.

What life was life as a citizen,
or a soldier who had to prove his worth.

I am rather happy
that I don't have to be
the sort of child who is beholden to his
father's livery.

Globs of scraggy oogle blorck
Cracked in ebbs of nibble naps

Scrapped in cork and oggled mek

Gorged of mega noogle neck.

Go into blackness.

Show sintered, ransacked make up.

Make out.

Show off.

Pick a part all of the noxious little faces

and add them to your sticker collection.

Protect the shiny corners of your smile
and please make sure to have a good day.