i’m full of something
and someone’s here
but i don’t know them
my lips
left impressions
on someone
but not me
i coughed
drunk with
junksleep
i peeked
around the
corner
trying to
test a wonder
or tow
a bridge
rising
to any occasion
and future lips
wetted by
anticipatory
tongues
will be
a good end
to a bad day
the want is greater than the need
and never lives up to our projections
i hate the feeling of failure
insides sick with unearned pride
tired of being whole hearted
and leaving letters at a door step
where no one lives
i’ve got five words
that can’t be said
i try and put them into conversation
giving hints
but this never works
more than anything i’m worried that
if you hear these words
this whole thing will stop
and that can’t happen.
failing to fall
even for the most pedestrian of galas
i’ve got crosseyed countdowns
to half hearted anglo saxon cunts
facing faces fucked by the preacher
please treat me in the passing stutter
from the whoretribe cop out runt filled gutter
rhyming is the most sincere form of insincere gratitude
faux everything is the style of the day
too meta for metal
I heard you quoting lester bags yesterday,
and when I asked who wrote that,
you said “me”
so I scoured the internet only to find that you were right
but god damn
WHY
does everyone have to sound
like everyone else
A friend told me today that by twenty twelve there would be no more tuna
and that this would somehow change people eating patterns.
I couldn’t pay attention
because as she was saying this
she was undoing my pants.
You want honesty?
Well I got nothing for you.
Stop falling down and making a scene and maybe we can understand each other.
He doesn’t fucking respect you and it would seem that you don’t either.
I’ll tell you one thing - if you keep going on like this yr not going to have any eyes left to see when he actually does take a step in the wrong direction.
You’ll have gouged them out and burned and seared them shut before you ever had a chance to take anything in.
You’re going to drain yourself before you even get anything worth draining inside you.
Don’t make this mistake.
Just fucking walk away when it’s simple and maybe in the morning, after they cum on yr face, they won’t steal the change that’s on yr night stand.
A women waddled up towards me today
To tell me how wet my hands were
My eyes stared down at her shoes
Muddy and worn
Cloth not worth even the most unworthy feet
She told me that I was going to ruin my book
And I told her i had already read it and that it was ruined long before I ever touched it
she laughed and coughed
when she did
a bit of snot came from her nose
i left without paying my check
i am romantic fodder
i am cancelled checks and bad luck
I am a reminder that the alarm was set for too late
i am closing yr eyes so that the world doesn’t break yr nose
i am sitting by myself without a breath to keep me alive
shake
flat and sloped
we slide down slowly
Hormones
deep and dark
Open fire
treachours tryst
framing thoughts of tall ambition
crater for the depths
reaching farther than our vision
teach me how to be
Accepted
never such a clear thought
let’s burn it down
Creation
marching slowly past us
my fear envelopes
Evluvium dream
Cash cow for the wicked
cut off all yr hair
fearful and insepid
Tryst
Got the lungs of a saint
the belly of a fiber optic tumor
it all comes crashing down
it all comes crashing down
don’t pick up the pieces
let them lie beneath us
Fuck yr hang ups
got a letter with yr name on it
anointed and paranormal
swaying left to right
leaning but never falling
a close call is what they call it
careening back and forth with a certain reverence for what should be and what never was.
He stared into the night an thought to himself “I’ve used that line a million times but never has it been so fitting or so appropriate for this very moment.”
You’re eyes are fucking gravitational.
Frozen
A paralyzing fear of what could be…
or maybe what was?
it’s alright she said as she lifted her body up from the mattress, once erect finally slinking down her shoulders falling forward and her hands shooting up towards her face.
Her face was wet he told himself. He sat up as fast as he could but when yr lost in yr own sea of opioid delusion fast is a relative term and it’s only relative is a slow winner that never truly wins. Heroes were created just for this girl in just this situation at just this moment and if there was anything he knew in this entire world, he wasn’t a fuckin’ hero.
Her body began to shake as he slowly moved forward to her comfortingly. On the nod and slowly drifting to a place where none of this exists, not this bed, or the bruises on her arms, or the junk in his veins or the nod or the baby that sat inside of her slowly gestating. It’s little circulatory system being formed, veins already sullied by cheap mexican dope.
“I don’t give a fuck what you do, I’m fucking leaving.”
She got up and walked away. The loneliest walk she’d ever take, that is until she eventually took the walk from the abortion clinic across the street to the smack dealer to get herself on the nod and then subsequently hop on a bus to sunnier and greener pastures in los angeles. She’d lose herself there and probably end up where that baby would, a distant memory of someone who had to carry her to an ambulance, or cut off her clothing and stare at her heaving breasts as she fought for her last breath. Here’s the fucking thing, no matter how many times you tell yourself you want to die, yr body has other plans. She thought about this as the bus left her small town. She thought about this and then slunk sullenly into the bathroom to do her very last shot and once that was done well… who can say? Probably another very last shot. Junkies have more than one “last” shot. Some have infinite last shots, some have only a couple, but no junkie only has one last shot. But this move, this was HER last shot. Her last shot to get shit right. Let’s all pray for her.
Passing and pleasing, it drifts fast over loaded ruffles of favored beings.
Clearing caustic holistic deities of their holy trolling style
a cacophonous dream of wet dripping lilies
preternatural desires for proud and aggressive intercourse
fleeing slowly from place to place in heroic testimonies of terrifying loneliness
listlessly traveling over careless careening crooners
singing songs they’ve never heard
leaving notes to lovers they’ve never fucked
mouths wet with pussy cleanliness
a blue form of discourse leaving the right taste in the wrong mouth
and preparing all for fate filled bouts of self-imposed delusion and wonder
street lamp reverence leaping from your already formed ideals to pleasing patterns of favorable truths. Truths you never understood and you wouldn’t want to know if you knew what it entailed.
Trapping fair skinned bodies with wet light landing lonely on their thoughts of the need for a freeing fuck.
Clean and entranced by torrents of divine darlings dining in their holy holy holy trips of derision.
Clear your throat and take me deep into your mouth, agape and wanting.
Take me in.
Don’t trust your doubt.
Clear your throat and leave me dry.
everyone can take pictures, everyone has a band, everyone writes clever quips about cultural going ons, everyone had a blog at one point, everyone thinks they’re special, everyone lost their grandma to a rare bone disease that won’t stop claiming octogenarian widows, everyone loses to you in battleship all the time, everyone left the stove on, everyone never cleans the dishes, everyone always leaves their bloody tampons in the toilet, everyone has every single movie, everyone has that record even though it’s a rare pressing and it’s a marbled purple/fuscia/mauve/pea soup green copy - but everyone has it so stop showing to me, everyone needs a job, everyone lost their dog, everyone writes songs about you, everyone met mickey rourke at an AA meeting, everyone lost a fight with eugene robinson at a sidewalk cafe in france, everyone is closing the door and opening another one, everyone lost their glasses last night, everyone is heralded for being the brightest bulb in a dim box, everyone should just go fuck themselves, everyone has that sweater - even though it was yr grandma’s, everyone spells YOU’RE/YOUR “YR” or “YER” or “YUR”, everyone thinks they’re so fucking clever, everyone is bitter, everyone wants the banks to pay for what they owe, everyone doesn’t believe in god, everyone lives in silverlake - even though it’s really atwater/echo park/highland park/ etc, everyone has those shoes, everyones iPhone 4 just cracked in the same place that yours did, everyone is unemployed, everyone has a job, everyone just broke up with their girlfriend/boyfriend/lover/paramour, everyone hates the word paramour, everyone lost in a fight to some drunk dude outside the cha cha lounge who thought it’d be funny to give them a flat tire and subsequently watch them fall on their face so it wasn’t really a fight it was just a case of gravity getting the best of you,everyones hands are sweaty, everyone hates when people don’t have callouses on their hands - it’s a way of finding who has never worked a hard day in their life, everyone hates limp handshakes, everyone hates limp dicks and dry pussies, everyone fucked someone last night, everyone saw a stray dog almost get hit by a car, everyone clears their throat before they kiss someone, everyone lights a cigarette twice just to make sure it’s lit, everyone has read unbearable lightness of being and thinks it’s pretentious and not nearly as good as you said it was, everyone secretly thought unbearable lightness of being was great but doesn’t want to admit it, everyone cried at the end of league of their own, everyone owns less records than they say they do, everyone is tired of looking for work, everyone should just shut up.
