I seldom speak of real feelings
Ones that climb to my brain and play in my heart ones that voyage to my nerves and have a fit with my lungs
Never do I speak of real love that pounds on my ribcage, like a criminal that’s trapped behind bars
Real sorrow that tightens my throat and goes to war with my mind
But here it is
Love doesn’t treat me well it’s got me on a ivy I’m addicted to it’s quick heartbeat like sweet love song melody’s
It coyly slips me butterflies like morphine
Has them whisper sweet nothings till I’ve built a castle held up by false promises
An empty tower waiting to be filled
A princess without a prince
Love
Loves got me in its grasp won’t let me slip from its grip I’m clinging to your words like medication taking compliments like Vicodin .  
I don’t follow my prescription because they can't possibly measure how much I need  
Love’s got my hanging on the edge tiptoeing on warm embraces and familiar faces  
Sorrow ‘s..... taken me by surprise  
Inched it’s way into my brain and body  
Not sure how it’s got this far
Not sure how it’s eaten away at my heart like a parasite devouring it like a delicious meal
And It’s been there tasting terror taking me back to old memories like a serial killer pulling me into the dark afraid of what’s in that corners of my mind that I never retreat to.
Leaving me with a hollow heart and thoughts suicided onto the pavement.
Feelings.
They have me checked into the ward. Locked in my mind, I’m trapped in this familiar place between time and space
Afraid my feelings will escape
Afraid of they’ll give me away
They’ve got me wrapped in a strait jacket trapped by my own thoughts
I can’t speak because I‘m afraid of the truth I’ll spit out
I can’t stop lying to myself because then I’d be opening up the landfill of memories I thought I’d long left buried
So instead, I’ll take suitcases
Pack them one by one
Love, jealousy, hate, sorrow, and loneliness, I’ll throw them out to sea
Then , and only then will I finally be free.

fuzzy-eyed humpers

baby-headed jumpers

I don't need you going

out on a ledge

flipping your lids

life on the skids

because of those things

that you did

that one time in Redondo

or was it Hollywood/Skid Row or

that other time in SoHo

flouncing from one news spread

to the next

has-been cloud-head

holed up in a windowless basement

tea shades on sprawled out on the unmade bed

of some formerly artsy tenement

tacked up jazz poster of the

suicided former resident

a good friend of someone

we'd all met

at Jack's or Jerry's

or Phil's or Joe's

or Fred's

It was disturbing enough
to wake me
in total darkness
And I chose then
in my kind of horror
to go to the bathroom to ***
Shaking my head
Troubled
In the wee hours
Not again
Why does this always happen to me?!
Not only is he a ghost
He’s a very old ghost
So what am I supposed to do with that?

She was dead serious
This voice in my head if you will
Earnest
‘But you don’t understand’ she explains
And I wonder where this is going?
‘He’s in love with you’

Okay?
Now what?

There’s a list somewhere
that I compiled years ago
Of questions that never had the chance
to be posed
Although approved officially by Robert
and perhaps by Bob as well
I was going to revise it
to make them even more
Impressive
Robert said that I was a genius
but to stop showing off
Questions concerning Jack,
Mass media,
The World War
in which they never fought
not for one second.
I think now
that I would like to have added
Something regarding
middle class conventions
and their subsequent
however
reluctant
disappointments
And what it must have been like
to aspire to them
In the 40s
When instead there was
Times Square and The Village
****** and Bop
Errant ****** activities
And the San Remo
Huncke suicided
by misbegotten sidewalks
And hapless blue precincts
waiting

Robert mentioned a brief car ride taken
in some Confederate State
Maybe he was in the backseat
and a joint was passed to him
He
who doesn’t indulge
if you will
Although pulmonary carcinoma
would claim him in no time at all
It was his finest moment
Sandwiched gleeful between these two
Literary
Giants
The radio not working
Now they are all dead
And I would like to think
That they are together again
encased in squeaky automotive  
Upholstery
Somewhere unearthly

Laying in bed
before sleep comes
in the new year
KNX newsradio
read the press release
Issued
It was cancer
It was terminal
There would be nothing further
and I said nothing the following morning
Staring at a wall of books and
climbing along on a rolling wooden step ladder
This isn’t even my department
The people coming through the door
were grim and silent
having bought their plane ticket to NY
To sit by his bedside
While he lay in coma
With Bessie Smith records
play softly nearby
and atmospheric
This was not a time for personal aspirations
Nor nursing the loss of a regretfully
jettisoned exchange
And although I had been warned previously
About a certain someone being
prickly
and possibly ******
and very short-tempered
and I had wondered
heretofore
how it would all go down
On the telephone
The two of us had shared a brief
‘What is he looking at?’ moment
That time here in LA
He staring at me from
a bit of a distance
on the court
And me in my chair with yet another
cigarette,
turning my head around to look behind me
to see again nothing
(God knows how many times)
Until I
An idiot
Realized that it was me that was
The subject of his eye
And I thought again
As I had done in the morning mirror
My god
My hair looks terrible

That list whereever it is
Perhaps in that laptop
That leans against my bedroom wall
Dead
on the floor
over there to my left
The one that I always pass
On my way to the john
The one that I stumble by
in the dark,
THAT list that exists
still
in my brain,
THAT I still tinker with,
THAT list exists
I would like to think
in both;
a list of questions that will always have
no answers.
To Allen
Who loves me.

Jeffrey Epstein is gone. Suicided?
The conclusion is still undecided.
A libidinous god . . .
or a jewel for Mossad?
The tribunal is deeply divided.

Mr Epstein is gone... wonder where.
Is he dead? All conjecture is fair.
Was that him on the slab?
We all hoped we would blab;
his declassified secrets to share.

Why, hello there.
Who is this in the mirror?
A dark silhouette is here,
Telling me the end is near.

I shake my head,
I look away,
My feelings are dead,
Or so you say.

One long limb after another,
You stretch into my world.
I try to take cover,
But your fingers are curled.

I cannot walk,
Cannot see,
Cannot talk,
To what's taken over me.

You shush me quietly,
Do not make a fuss.
Let your thoughts run wildly,
Yes, let them rush..

You taunt me with my past,
Saying what's done is done,
If you want this to last,
Let's have a little fun.

Your friends over there,
They seem quite nice,
Tell them your life isn't fair,
That all has a price.

Let the tears fall,
Drown in your sorrow,
give your friends a call,
Tell them you need a favor to borrow.

They will assist,
But I will not quit,
You will resist,
But they cannot baby sit.

Who needed them any who,
I'm the only friend you need,
Ill always be true,
Even while you bleed.

You were already drained,
Before I entered you,
Like the days had rained,
But you had no clue.

My brothers and sisters,
had already infested your life,
From all of those misters,
They all held the knife.

My pessimistic ways,
are for the better,
While you're in its daze,
You write the letter.

I sign it for you generously,
So you can rest,
Because I am honestly,
The last "friend" that you have left.

My mission has ended,
Your misery is subsided.
To I who you had friended,
That you suicided.

back at home they called me bart and they laughed whenever i'd say the word
jellybeans.


threw up on a bearded hipster gothic hermaphodrite on 2nd wave estrogen and on that
punk rock kick with
a hint of nu-metal

and a tinge of hip hop.

suicided inside the Walmart with one of the leaf-blowers and left the cart pusher to
remove of the carcass
and greeted by a nurse in LA.

haven't lost 33 pounds but am triying
with a steady diet of beans.

pinching my nostrils to look more ethnic.

on the board of racial relations and have received the ID
and now
conducting an interview with a guy in a stone tent in wales next to ****** henge when it reopened last sunday.


you know you're gonna have to go back to work tomorrow
and you're gonna have to put in twice the effort because
Jessica is sensing that you're 'falling behind' and it's essential that you
prove to this firm otherwise and pick up the slack
so these numbers don't continue to dwindle in this high-market season.

got a can of tuna, cold to these
lips.

banana up my ******* up to 6 inches half-way
****** for a day.

forehead is split
and eyeballs are soaked in ink.

back to the strip mall to get a free massage and sexually harass the
glass stand.

'NO.
TAKE MY MONEY AND SPEND IT ON ORANGES.

she cries a lot nowadays,

and I feel bad especially in the mornings,


and love has just turned bitter
but mostly tepid and
indifferent

Feels like I’m on the brink,
Every time I open up my pie hole.
Will I live to see another cinco de mayo?
Hold up gotta let that **** sink.
Before it numbs out cause of the wine-o.
That liquid courage, that helps me nab some fine **’s.
I’m fine though, I swear I don’t need no shrink!
Knowing **** well I’ll end up either in jail, rehab or like Amy Winehouse.
And I know it’s a miracle I lived this long, cause trust me bud I had my doubts.
Gotta **** around to find out.
Reality sure ain’t no Mickey Mouse clubhouse.
(Insert mickey voice and gun fire)
Ain’t sleep a wink in a minute.
Got One eye open playing paw patrol.
Looking out for the monsters ink cause I ain’t complicit.
I’m Just a paranoid guy spacing out to rock and roll.
Eating bats and other **** deemed explicit.
As if the Prince of darkness has taken over my soul.
Riling up the media to distract the dimwits.
From the Illuminati, if you know you know.
But as they say one gotta be careful if one spills it.
Cause you’ll Get suicided like Epstein in a hot minute!

me and the devil limping side by side
step sweeping step
lungs reeking like a gas leak
he says practice dying for when the pills peak

she sealed the relationship with a weak,suicided kiss that sketched a daydream in my head;
irises ocean blue like oven flame
roving like the dicey eyes of judas

venous anastomosis connecting the rot--
a maze that held the world in place-- settled
  then unstable then settled then unstable.
The merciful likely-overdose over the machines really being
  that vital, I am truly bleeding without an answer.
It took seconds for the world to end.
And all I could do was watch and soak in the build up  

and wish it wasn't happening yet.

I can't take your presence as a cherub any longer,
You are Lillitth hovering a loose ascetic lifestyle
that's bound to end with me numb and in a rut.
The yellow sun of my childhood that had me hoodwinked,
before made fluorescent and harshened. I don't want to face it.
It makes the pavement
                                           Shine like snow.

In the distance two shadows walk shackled
He says you wasted a lifetime stuck in sorrow and fascination
Trying to fit something into a good enough distraction
  and now there's nowhere to go.