fancy trender
the algorithms adore me
bits and bites love me
girlfriends gush over
what i write
the promises and perjury i pour out
though other few find it fascinating
a collection of casual carousers
deeply drunk and delirious
leer and like
fumble through and follow
these wild words

which

long for your love
and admonish apathy
say something
anything at least
jovially jeer
praise pompously

i rest
with my hands on the home keys
derive inspiration
from insignificant minutia
and you read
and read
taking a break from your home row
hum drum
flaccid
"oh thats nice"
NEXT

dont read and not write
i give not two
i should say ***
but i wont
i dont care
how inarticulately evil
you chose to be
but you must write

say something
start a conversation
engage your fellow artist

what else are we doing here
if not to inspire
it was never an endeavor
to impress our friends
was it
we found this place
for any kind of outlet
a chance to give breath
to the lightening in our bottles

this is our march
on the collective consciousness
that could be called washington
london
but when we march
we hold hands
chant
sing
speak with one another
and form bonds
and that should be done here too

without those acts
we are protestant pastors
banging on pulpits
toward a parish
that no longer exists
or if they do
never say "amen"

amen

if you think that i cant hear you
youre probably right
im dreaming again
and youve lost your voice
for the fifteen-millionth time
youre acting like youre screaming
and i have my hands cupped around my ears

and when yelling turns you off
you walk away
and im the *** with his hands on his ears

chase after you
with a pad and a pen
write something down instead
but i lost my pen
and my pad is covered
in doodles of zombies

the curb is no better friend
no worse either
as cold and as hard
as my attempts with you
and your response

and THATS why people learn sign language
for dreams mostly
i have never even tried while sleeping
and if i did im sure that it would be offensive

the more that i think of it
i think that a hug would have sufficed
pluck one of your hairs
and tie it to my sleeve button hole
for it to wag alongside me
as i get back curb-side

ill be the guy wearing the...
nothing
reading poetry by street lamp light

i know
i know
black tank top
see you soon

i swear to god
swear it wasnt me
i was here the whole time
holding your hands
im innocent

well
now that you mention it
i might have something to tell you
**** more things than SOMEthing
i lied

ill try not to take that tone
should i whisper it
i mean i kind of need to
after all that yelling

forget i said anything
lets just act like adults about this
heres all the terrible things
puke on the page

you know,
if you ate better
you might not get so sick in the *future

i curse myself
for the anxiety
i feel for those near
chomping
crystalline version of that
which makes us up
the cold that kills
or at least affirms death

for the stress
felt for the tears
shed
in times when i am away
or at least when
were apart
pulled in all directions
disoriented

for the swears
i murmur chilled
leaning
from the window
and the cold May breeze
blows back in
last weeks last smoke
two years ****** growth
can no more capture
the shameful smell

for the death
that arrives on my door
sandwiched
between what i need to leave
and what can open doors
door stop wedged firmly
needs to be withdrawn
call it what it is
ego

the curse
that lies between
choice observation and opportunity
im teaching myself
to ignore and adopt
curl up next to
failure finality
and future
without regret

regret?
to spit in its face
arms akimbo
nose neptunes way
grinning
and i pray
holding your hand

I did not know your eyes were blue
Small suns ring your pupils
perihelion

As you come closer
You become significant
light blurs my vision

Polarizing sun
Perpendicular conscience
Horizontal will
~~~
Eyes wide
Ingenue again
You make my toes curl
~~~
Apollo is come
Dionysus cuts loose
Cassandra moans

The show of looking in my eyes to see how they are different now
An excuse for eye contact, because you know it will draw me in

You cast lures for me
I know this
Almost a stealth campaign
First curiosity
Now covetousness

You have so much already
Why must you collect me, as well?

So fair is she!
So fair her face
So fair her pulsing figure

Not so fair
The maniacal stare
Of a husband who's much bigger.