yeah, yeah
no, no
yeah, YEAH, yeah
noooo, no

yeah, yeah, no, no
yeah, no, yeah, yeah
no, no, no

I spit on the light bulb
floating above her head
and as I listened to the
spit begin to slowly sizzle
the light started to fade
and her idea became
nothing more than
nothing.

It's not easy
trying to decide
on whether to run
or whether to hide.

Because she's a storm,
a torrent of sorts,
and I'm terrified of
falling overboard.

Look how famous I am!
Extray! Read all about it!

All these things I said I would do
are catching up to me
and it seems like laziness is adhesive
keeping me stuck in this chair
but really it's what's within
that's keeping me from
doing all those things I said I would do,
so now I just feel guilty when
I sit down at the end of the day
to stare at monitors and play
stupid redundant games
just like I've been doing
for my whole ******* life

There's a way to break this cycle
and it's as easy as just ******* doing
all those things that I said I would do

What's a little distance and time,
when they're the only two things
left standing between you and I?

I'm out of ideas.

Its circular face mocks and laughs
at me with that numerical circumference.

Red and black hands reach out and
grab me tight, leaving bruises on my psyche.

I'm helplessly cast deep into my past
where time flows like molasses.

Back when the clocks
took their time
counting down my life
and rotting my mind.

Back when they were slow
and I just couldn't wait to grow
up.

Yesterday's tomorrow was today, and then
the devil sneezed so I told her: 'god bless,'
and she looked at me like she ain't impressed.

But she bought me a beer and then said:
"tell your guardian angel to wait outside,"
as she started massaging my pride.

She knows that I buried god years ago,
right after I stuffed that angel's mouth full
of my personally-sharpened family jewels.

Horney devil,
swallow your forked tongue
right after you're done
lapping up my ***.

Lovely angel,
sorry for cutting you up
while you sat patiently
waiting in stirrups.

Video games do not make people more violent.

But,

if I die to this ******* boss
one more ******* time
I'm going to bash someones
skull in with the controller
and play with their brains instead.

And you, the most
adored ***** who
away I threw
beacuse
I can't love anymore
maybe there's freedom
in other's arms when
i'll be here aging

One ******* day at a ******* time
you keep seeing places that you haven't
been, and find these boys who help you
in lost and found bins
Dying for your touch,
****, even a ******* grin!
and the light shines right through your
******* *** appeal
into the long forgotten shadow
of when you were real
to me.

-Says Windows at night
while movies are downloading.


PirateBay trojans, malware, or viruses
all because Demonoid went and died on us!

Though never once have I thought:
"Oh, what shall I do?"

...'Cause it was I
who stole
the operating system
from you.

we move
in rhythm and time
keeping pace
and
locking eyes
tangled as one
you're
screaming the name
that they call mine

all the things that I've red at night
in the luminous orange of sodium light
just make me feel like a yellow-belly
for being so ******* green with envy
of all the words that blue my mind
written with those lovely indigo eyes
that burn with a fierce violet flame...

...Somewhat like the sun peeking out of the rain.

water please
please

take this drunk
away from me

and leave the
room steady

please
just stop
the spinning

please
grant me
the sleep

When I meet her gaze,
it rips the soul from my body
and ***** it through time and space
into her hollow and vacuous eyes.
Into the vacuum of her being.

I find myself in her mind
and step tentatively over the creases
and folds of her grey brain,
avoiding the beehives hanging like grapevines
from the ceiling of her skull.

But my eyes adjust to the light
and I see that my fears are misplaced,
it's not hives hanging inside her mind
but a series of dark rainclouds
behind black and blue skies.

It's too dim in here, thinks I,
where's all the sunshine?

If it's true, and her sun has died
I would douse myself and burn alive
just to provide her a little reading light,
just to dry out her rainy skies and
maybe brighten up her nine lives.

If it's true that her moon is hollow and dim
then I would be proud to fill it up again,
I would be happy to reinflate it's craters
with my final dying breath,
with all the essence of my being.

And I would hang it there in the night,
surrounded by the hole-punched skies.
So maybe when it reflects my self-immolation,
light would shine down through her beautiful eyes
and into that long-neglected mind.

So many things that I don't want to do
lend me some cash
and maybe a place to crash
because there's so many things
that I don't want to do.

I don't really want to go to work each day
just to sell myself and my time and my name
to gather up money that I just waste anyway
on getting wasted almost every single day.

I don't want to sleep tonight
it's just another poor way
to spend my time
when I could be smoking
or drinking red wine,
I don't want to sleep tonight.
But if I do fall asleep
I don't want to wake up on time.

I don't even want to stand at all
I'll just sit down in the hall
and stare at the walls,
I don't want to move my neck
or cash my ******* paycheck,  
has the **** sun set yet?
It'd be nice in the cool damp nights
if I didn't have to do a thing
I would be quite alright
to lay in the grass and sing.

as 'The Dark Tower' was King's "magnum opus"
it had an ending worth dwelling on.
and now he suffers over
not writing about Roland
as I continue to suffer over
having to write about you.

As if you were my "greatest achievement of an artist or writer"
I voluntarily chose not to move on,
long since alone under the covers.
I think back and remember when
you showed me how to forget lovers.

Yet as I practice the simple techniques
that you painstakingly taught me,
I can't help but remember
I'm trying to forget you.

Flower, Flower.
Your petals so pink, your stem so green.
It reminds me of simpler times, running through the grass as a child.
I love you.

The worst thing that ever happened to me
Wouldn't be when my father left
I'd be lying if I said it was.

The worst thing that ever happened to me
Didn't leave visible scars
Up and down my arms

The worst thing that ever happened to me
Happens to begin with 'L'
And ends with an 'E'

The worst thing that ever happened to me
Is the title of
This ****** poem

Months later and filled with redundancy
nothing will ever be quiet
We're not missed much these days
we've been gone so long now
Keep wandering on and wondering how
no one ever notices the forearm scars

Tranquil waters flow and wash away
our fervent disdain and distaste
While you leak ideas we breed ideals
and I bleed tweed sweaters
already frayed at the sleeves
threadbarren and disconnected

Flights fly forward fast, for faith falls flat.

I put my heart on a string
and gave it to you
as a necklace

You hung it from the ceiling
and beat it half to death
like a ****** pinata

Wrapped it around your finger
and yanked it up and down
like a macabre yo-yo

I swallowed all of the pain and
it tasted like hairspray

like chewing up eggshells
like biting aluminum foil
like licking pennies

I don't even want my heart back
please just please **** it now
step on it wearing stilettos

I just want to be whispers in your mind
I want to be a spider on the back of your skull
I want the curse of remembrance upon your soul

...centipedes underneath big rocks in the dirt.
...worms on the pavement in the rain.
...rotting roadkill you drove over today.
...maggots writhing inside of dead brains.
...rainbows in great puddles of oil.
...fakest person you'll ever ******* meet.
...weeds and crabgrass polluting the soil.
...reason I hate humanity.
...nightmares preventing your sleep.
...dreams making your knees weak.
...scab you can't stop picking.
...ulcer you can't stop licking.
...spider in the bathroom sink.
...shakes you get if you don't drink.
...doubt whispering inside your mind.
...lies you've been fed all your life.

I loved the schoolbus.
I had friends in the front,
and friends in the back.

But sometimes when I climbed those steps,
I didn't want to have friends.
I didn't want to smile,
I didn't want to laugh.
I just wanted it quiet so
I sat in the middle sometimes,
right in between everything.

And that's where I met Vanessa,
right there in the middle of the bus.

She sat alone every day,
with her eyes always
cast upon the window
and what lay beyond it.
I noticed her right away
even though she was older
and a few grades ahead of me.

See she was seventeen, and much more
experienced than the fourteen-year-old me.

But I approached her anyway,
working my way into the seat
adjacent to her.
Eventually working up the *****
to actually say something.

We talked for a few weeks,
and she humored me.

Even when I went to sit in the back
and was loud and obnoxious, I would
catch her glancing.
She would look and sneer at me.

So when the day finally came
that she said my name
and told me to sit in her seat,
I dropped everything
and joined her.

Want to see something?
she asked, without so
much as a blink.

Sure, I mean, of course.
I replied, trying my best
not to sound too eager

She kept her eyes on me as
her hands lifted up her skirt,
one inch at a time showing me
more and more of her.

My eyes were locked on
her crotch, I could almost hear
the shutter clicking as I documented
the whole thing mentally.

But she stopped when she revealed
a crescent-shaped scab on her upper thigh.

It was shot through with red lines,
swollen and inflamed and
I swear that it moved and pulsed
right before my eyes.

I couldn't look away
as she picked the scab off
in one big piece, and I saw
a white caterpillar unfold from
her wound in a squelching
symphony of sickening sound
and roll it's way down
her leg, covered with blood and
leaving ****-y streaks.

Then it hit the seat and I gasped
when she grabbed it before it could
crawl away and shoved the
macabre thing into her mouth,
still crawling,
killing it with her teeth.



I never sat with Vanessa again.

Bounce and rebound around in my head,
are these voices real?
Whispers of lovers now long gone and dead,
tell me what to feel.

the lights in your eyes
sent tractor beams into mine
and brought me closer to you
one day after another
for the rest of my time

You wrench the lunch
and the broth slosh-
ing from within my stom-
ach and the sad sorry meal
I picked from the shelves of
an old cold cabinet.

More than a few years ago
I hid my mind, and have long since
forgotten where I had put it.

I sat on my softpack and I felt
remorseful pity, because
it really crushed my cigarettes.

And I felt such sympathy for them,
so unable to be used.

Then she stood up and held out her
hand, and I gratefully took the
burning smoke from her fingers.

As I exhaled she grew a beautiful blue
halo of twirling, swirling, tinct
smoke rings.

'My death angel,'
thought I.

Then I ashed it too hard
on the brim of
the ashtray.

well this keyboard is intimidating
but jeez i can't keep
using a pen forever
so what if it's more
comfortable?

This poem looked better
When it was
Written down.