Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.

Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!

Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!

Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!

So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!

Actually I think I would rather have a fruit
Or a leaf
Pennies don't get you much
Where I come from
Actually
They don't get you anything
Except a weird look
But that is okay
I don't care
It is pretty
I love pretty things
Even if they hold no value
I cherish them
Like I cherish adhesives
Adhesives are great
They stick things together
Sometimes
I wish I could adhesify
My love
And stick her to me
Forever
I love her
Now I am sad

evening

Maria and Mr. Riner are sitting on my bed
******* like garlands, against the wall
the words stew inside and I can't seem to
pour them out
but we three fools, sit and scribble regardless
staring blankly at the drooling clock
(persistent, in our memories).
the whitewashed cinderblocks are testament
to the number of walls
the quantity of clocks
this series of chairs
and if we close out eyes we expect to
wake up in heaven
but it's just the same old hell.

she says, keep writing
(if you feel inclined)
and slides her back into mine
but I've got no more letters in these fists
(so I'll lie and think for a bit).

she says,
I've never been a 'she' before...


morning

my coat sits in a bundle near the door
I've been trying to find a way to hang it
but I'm having mixed results, in fact
all this month I've been trying to make attachments
to these white,
white,
cinder block walls
with all manner of adhesives.
but these nightly sessions
have been ******* with the humidity

and every morning something new is on the floor.


all I can do is put them back up again.
try and
be a little more constant
with these climate fluctuations.
try and

sleep a little more, sweat a little less.

Our brains run on the
Same frequency, a precise
Pitch. Subconsciously stumbling
Into a cranium-themed cohabitation.

With Bics in hand
We catch inconsistent and
Rapid glimpses of a
Contemporary "real" world.

Shape-shifting from one
Ideology to the next.
Using time as a distraction; it's
Human nature to pause for countdowns.

They're all painted over. Oceans and
Gulfs covering lava and intrapersonal
Insides. Scrape it all off and you'll find that
Without all of the adhesives they bruise

Easier.

and i,
being the broken
toy soldier.
a book
with cracked spine,
still wait.

someone
must have
some glue.

tooth
rhyme
seal
parade
enamel:
ammunition
axis
body
seal
Luo
oil­
Cats


"Under jurisdiction"

Lecture;

Rolling My  Bakers Snow
Hot Melancholy Life ^ Hinoki y
  Crown Yo Yorozu Yugi Quantity Warning  "Amount "  ... " Thinking"
3  hot summer 3D solid "nose" "three cement adhesives"  "... sacrifice"

Kiyoshi Kiyoshi

T Hot  Takashimas Abalone  Yoga  
One ... Category ^ Dan ‡  Mo 5 heat  )
V  "  

old
Accumulation
" Paragraph "  "Ashi  roaryo  one"
En  
As P
S  Week drinking g. "At the feet of the nose I am excited to hit the northern part.

SU SEPTEMBER                     9 months ago imprisonment for punishment

oil

Megumi "Orodori" wheat "" "

revenge

F  Mark  Life S 5

Life Heat Nickel Lucky Heat Paradise f Respect  Ivepai ... Two Signs]

I 2  CR  Free ñn ina²; 2 X trout advertisement. F War: Energ X Ichin X
Q shoes
Iwao
Nono
field
Troubled wings

... Eee Police
Libro! Res.  Mes

3 "Amount ..." Yoshio "5 Nyoyaku:" L Temple Heat G  Time S 1

"The two treasures of three summers are one word" summer  "
"Kaji" Paradise "Dan"  "" Denpaku Ban "Heat" Festival " 2" ... • f Burning 3 S 2   g Syg 5  "5" ... " Slave D Thermal ^ 5] Living Par 3


...   Benko Hot  Its hot and hot


Mie kanji  "Mand"  "...  Fujio F"  Ji Ri f "Shima" ... Yo  refreshing burning Lee  S "True"  "I   One"              
Art "..." "Whispering" Hot  "Earrings"  Dia ia Three "Ninko Futmusu "Jen" Yo Yona V Baby ... y  Visit  ... "Ding"



}: V ...                                                        3
Scorpion D Foot Hot Topic Yo Doornon Hot  55  Sotetsu   Shonen Paradise Life overview 5

3  "Two Weng" "O" ... Tunja Hot "Excitement of Birthday"  depression "f"
Say yuu wing  life  "  alive   " alive " rumor "" raw "... fog" ... " alive"
"7 y no  hosho  coast  rf> Tate 5 Nagashima paradise" "Paradise ..." "Hot weather y" dan y s "

C Kang                                                    

Y W] Gobo ["Yo" y ^ Category y  Campomo  "Basket" ... 3   Skin  Kirara
Living " kind of dragon 3 N ... accumulation of **** Dragon 3
G glience g depression
twin Korea T stone saw asleep letters Ninininini
"Responsibility"
Venge  Sono Plaster Kokumi Wo 3  fake accident  f Ko  first life Tsubasa Pass  Poison  ... ... ...  ugly Offshore
food
3 Weapons of algae.
thickness

The hill tops are far enough away
That you never hold your hands to the window
But you’re secretly hoping they’ll grab you, run
Under tables and over the green couch of the
Woman standing alone at the window
On a snowy day, so go
But always come back again

Your body is made of half hearted attempts at
Scrubbing tiles and then ripping them out
To lay new boards, to secure every crack
Adhesives and bubble wrap
You’ll need it when you’re moving everywhere
Shaking like a leaf
So place the tiles back together
As if nothing had ever rotted in here

Armed to the teeth with excuses
Still looking for answers
Yet calling it useless
Stop fighting and leaning on your crutch
But i want to get off this ride
It’s costing far too much
And I’m not interested in luck

So I breathe quietly as we leave the hospital
Because I should have known better
And instead of less, you have become
More than can be stomached
You take up space like a deer at the crest of
Grass beside the edge of the highway
And you just want to turn into this beautiful person
So she can get her money’s worth
This beautiful animal

It wraps around a telephone pole
As if it were just sleeping on the curb
Baby nausea, baby *****, baby lay down on the pavement
And when you close your eyes
It’s nothing but the gentle imprint
Blades of grass leave on your skin

The bones are barbed
The organs are on display
We don’t make mistakes here
We just slip about the day
I refuse to look directly at headlights

How can I miss what I don’t love?
You hardly leave my mind
I am left in awe of

You, with the demanding presence, it’s true
I remember a time when jealousy grew.

Always watching you from afar
But never do I hear from you, my morning lark.

A few moments frozen in time
Have given me this false sense of sublime
Sadly, so many would hold them to a shrine.

Observers in the distance
Know nothing of this,
My empty soul and weakening persistence.

Unfitting, this battle grows old
My springs fade to winter
And your heart proves too cold

Too cold, to even harbor a beacon of hope
Baggage carried at an inclined *****.

It goes against the grain
To throw it all away
More damage would only cause more pain.

Why do you jest at old wounds
And play yourself a sad little tune
When it is you that buries us in this solid tomb?

It is now, that the lights are out
We have learned to shield our hearts
But I’m still here, going about

Picking up the pieces
A shame to use these
Folly, weakening adhesives.

My only wish is for you to let me be
You have performed no sisterly duty

I continue to stand in the middle
Yearning to be set free.

To grieve over death

is one thing

But to smell death

To stand in the room

Where death goes once its dead

And see the eye cups

That are placed so the eyes don’t sink but seal

with adhesives.

The tools that cut the arteries

And the smell of the

formaldehyde that replaces

the blood that’s drained

And the small, clean blade that cuts the navel

And the garbage bag that reeks of

the stomach and intestines that get pumped out

Assortments of makeup that

Could cover bruises and burns

Or a blue or yellow face

All in this tiny, cold room

Where the lifeless go

When their vessel is wrought

I'm not one to interlock pieces that don't fit together naturally.
If we take off the adhesives, the force of
un-fatal attraction will have premeditated
disintegration at the creases;
So actually:
what's puzzling,
Is why you and I intertwine
to create this image that neither one of us is
prepared to be about.
They say a hope of love to
come is a danger in its own route.
If I display the L-O
and you jot down then V-E,
we can make it work to form the border.
But what good is framework if the structure is out of order.
If we agree to pick the
jigsaw up, it will give us a chance to smooth the edges before they sever;
The picture doesn't have to be
appealing in the end, but the pieces have to fit together.

i was in denial, okay?
kept saying "oh no i'm fine"
"i'm on a rollercoaster that only goes up, my friend"
the number of times i've quoted augustus waters
makes me sick and embarassed
i'm not fine
the laws of physics state what goes up must come down
augustus waters was arrogant and scared
i lost, okay?
i used up all my adhesives
taping, gluing, buttoning, sealing,
then
painting a fresh coat of paint over my face every time picture-perfect image was blurred so you never knew
that i wasn't fine
so that when i looked in the mirror
i fooled myself, claiming the lines were just as unevenly drawn as always
i don't know if i'm ready to peel back all ninety-eight layers of paint
i don't know if i'd recognise the face beneath the plastic
but i know you will
so be careful
please
you win, okay?
you've won.

I turned on the light to the next door
and it came running in
photons splashing gore!

Straight through the streetlight
like stamps on a ***** and a tricycle
cyc-sickling atop of the poor.

Violence, begotten
the marsh has in store
and the sad watch like
rats watch gold watches and
stop

Grandfather
tells a long time.

Listen to the click!

You may learn a tock
or two in the bush.

zoom swish by

An arrow pierces the heart of time
along the same line as the pools filling with blood.

Tell me, stranger, why don't you look at me?

I see you growing beneath the surface, there...
You're blossoming up like a welt,
a cyst ready to pop!

, but I keep running as
I'm folding life in on itself

Hamburger or hotdog,
either way - I won't let you
see what I wrote inside.

I take it down the hallway and into my bedroom.
I collapse inward, a book's pages eating its own binding,
chewing on hollow spines, and synthetic adhesives.

Tell me, stranger.

carried on the dream I tasted in your voice
I was never afraid of heights

when I was falling
                                 falling
                                            falling
all I felt was cool air brushing my hair
as it rushed across my skin

it still tasted like you
or the idea of you
or who I wished you were
or who you pretended to be

it tasted like truth
but the truth is...
I trusted without enough doubt to realize
that touching the sky
meant I couldn't see the ground
that fairytales were meant for those with wings
because flying is a prerequisite
and I was just auditing the experience

soaring through promises I needed to believe
I knew who you were....
                       until you weren't

I believed who I was
but I never believed myself to be stupid
or naive
or...stupid

real is how we perceive it
but any way I slice you up
the pavement still wears my skin

multi-tonal adhesives cannot
heal the trust I broke by believing you

who am I now?
fear of heights and a traumatic aversion
to self-trust

plus a dash self-loathing

when I close my eyes
I still ride dreams that taste like truth
but the truth is...

flying is a prerequisite
and I was just auditing the experience

if i wrote
a book,
the dedication
would be
like this:

“to everyone
who broke my heart,
who helped me
put it back together:
gave me
all types of
adhesives,
and
to those who
watched and cheered
as i build it back.”

I've torn your wires to pieces
And fixed them with my own adhesives
I've squished you like a piece of clay
And molded you into something psychedelic.
How many times have we spoken lately?

The electrons and neurons make a pleasant tingling all the time.

Electricity flows within my cortex
And powers me like a subatomic soda
Any rocket bomb flies through an open window
And collides on each careful nerve ending.

I've graffitied you from top to bottom
With memories from summer and autumn
And I left the spray cans to dry off next to you
Just so that I can come back anytime to what I drew.

But then again
My fingers make a plasmatic arrangement, too
As they trace cytoplasm around on a piece of paper
While words and music notes cloak me like vapor
The chemicals on each letter stamp
Set you on fire when administered on the tongue
And while the lights shine bright from each lamp
You're aware that neither of us are so innocently young.

Brain...brain...brain...brain...
Drive me by on a track only taken by train.

jealousy know only one motto -
that one motivation is:
as came the mortal,
so too, departs the dead.
i find it utterly bewildering
to mind either the mortal fact,
or the eventuality of death...
it's hard claiming to be a mathematician
with these two certainties,
whether translated into infinity,
or to translate gravity of (0, 0, 0)
scrub worth of abstract...
   into what is otherwise in chemical
terms Fe+,
  talking to a carpenter:
             reply? oh, you mean glue?
thrice as wise to be able to
silence the earth for a second,
  than move it for two thousand years,
that monotony of the cross,
   with a shadow that embraces
   both aushwitz,
  both the sickle and hammer...
   and the scythe moon & star...
i don't feel jealous over the story,
the biopic yet to be made...
   some men simply craft an aura
that disturbs women...
as i once said:
   you can't be a good artist,
and a model father...
       it's not going to work.
oddly enough? i can be competent
with a female "apprehension"
to my stated fact of sum,
no matter the subtitle cogito has
to offer...
    i'm past the burned-toast analogy
to give two shakes
   of a *****-martini,
in a palace of plush, odoured by
the scent of fashionable *** aurora.
i can't forbid fear,
it simply comes naturally...
   i can't forbid fear its natural
presence...
      but why am i blamed for
a potential in the already stated book
of juicy preferences...
  why this collective minority report,
this cancerous predestination
presumption?
        very ******* western,
very ******* protestant,
             predestination:
   goes to show that the motto of
the secular "socially adhesives"
systems of court, with their:
  innocent, unless proven guilty,
are but albino words
   with protestant theology of
predestination stating the opposite:
guilty, and alway guilty,
   whether concluded with,
     or without a gavel full-stop...
or as i like to state: de facto rule
of a blind minority...
      western society has already become
an echo chamber...
   you can sometimes sport (rather than spot)
the fetishist commentators
who can't quite understand that
it's already, one, big, excessively
lombast, self-infuriating & thereby
masochistic: echo chamber.

p.s. ref. to the word in bold:
    i prefer the o,
   rather than the a,
   you do know that vowels in english
   are mandible, easily interchangeable?
   i thought they might,
   what with the retardation of
   "correct" pronoun use.

october never starts this cold,
the slugs are out in droves.
and if the smoke mingles
and our brain chemistry is correct
then why can’t we meet as one?
you’re like ripping off adhesives,
slowly, more painfully, and quickly, you still sting.
you’re like muddy pots and samhain plots,
something once thought of and never again completed.

i’m stuck with a love that can’t compete
and isn’t for want of much,
but it drags its smooth breath over the silver sword
and cuts in deep
when you bring up someone else.

who,
are they to you but pawns?
you forgot to cherish me, your queen
who would release love into your eyelids at night
and take your scars and never once ask about the past.
i know i’ll care better than her, more powerful than her, more straight forward as her, more meaningful as her, more more intense as her…

get yourself up off the ground,
it’s time to stop mourning the life you once thought you’d live.