I got a 25 cent raise.

I'm gonna buy
bubble gum

and mac and cheese

and a pellet gun to shoot geese with.


I like sunsets in Greece while it's still cold.


I sit in the apartment
and peel paper from the walls and write

GOOD over and over and over again until the whole wall is filled.


25 cents for surgery on my head.

a glass of juice,
citrusy and good

and a ***** to ride when i'm hot.

25 cents
I like death.

i am death

and i am rotting
death as i die

everyday 1000 times.

my final form

....

valiant art

bro I just met you why do you need my number?

wanna jam sometime I think.

k after work then probably.

cool man, bro.

text in my pocket, beeping while slicing beef.

I don't want to watch a movie with you and hold your hand bro,

sad face,
smiley with a syringe filled with *****.

bro.

bro.
bro hold me, bro come watch the sunset.


I swallow a grape as I walk along the moon.

beeping more,
beeping more, more sliced beef

****** lady
I spit on,
I spit on you.

bro,
dude, baby , guy , friendo,

flip a coin.

not your lucky day.


warheads were the **** back in the day
yep

there's a guy at work who just says his name like a pokemon would
and it's ******* hilarious.

HAMMEEED

HAMEEEED


HAMMEEEDD


I AM HAMEED I WILL GET THE SALAMI
THANK YOU FRIEND
HAMEEEEEEED.



smells like diarrhea in a gentle rain
and looks like a turkey after gender reassignment surgery
while having an ******* in an October blizzard


but his tongue is  grey
and so is his hat

HAMEEEEEEEEED


HAMMEEEEEDD.

dumb ******, but his hat
is grey
so I don't judge
and he
picks up worms for cheap when he's still ******

I rub myself but really have to **** and the bathroom
is a good 6 seconds away.

the ham sandwich is floating somewhere

as I wash it down with milk and honey from store bought EBT deciphle handouts in raining cartoon imagination
cinema.


have no more friends since the last one I killed gurgled and told his mom.

had to **** her too-

she's sitting in a toaster oven--
at least her toes,

such pretty toes.

and such pretty eyes.

well.... they're....


nevermind.

nevermind I didn't tell you nuthin.


anyway the cool dude with the afro at work gave me like 4 dollars in tips so that was nice and he said i'm cool and that we should get doritos sometime and **** eachoteher's testicles just for the exchange of body heat and ****** fluid for extra calories which is good for health.

I declined but he's cool.


and then it's morning and you're staring into a mirror, and father time is crying in a corner as you talk to yourself and pity
your life and your dreams and your haphazard plans and commitments and lovers
and friends and obstacles and condolences
and prayers
and meaning and existence,,


and you become whole as the madness settles somewhere in your amgydala
and kisses away the fear


all of it for good
all of it for good

all of it for nothing

eating cranberries from a tree and whispering secrets into the ear of a mule,
spirits guide me.


today is 2017

and I see her on the radio when the clouds darken.

inside of the catacombs sits the sword of leonidus,
still breathing.

I flick on the news and I see heads rolling on the dirt as mothers kick away dustpans full of bones.


a leader is speaking and echoes boom across the pond
and a few words are etched into a tree as dusk follows dawn.


LOL
LOL
LOL
LOL

ROFL
ROFL
ROFL


strawberry toast with jam while nailing slivers of wood into your ***** ****
makes for an interesting Saturday evening in the Hollywood hills.
a cool 78 and fat siliconed ***** with purple streaks make
me dizzy mostly

cant

think of it now


as you lay

in dusty
mist

and mountains surround your head
like a

granular headset.


prying these eyes open in the morning


is a wonderful dream
when you have money to waste,

mostly your stockings are still wet from the juice on the counter.

haven't smiled in 2 years.

laughter is just laughable at this point.


dave is your ***** and I knew it all along--

but I still sit at your altar when you pray to other holymen.


am running on steam,


and am slowly losing my cool.

COOL.

cool

cool


cool.



houdini never needed a crowd
just
the attention

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

breakfast in the afternoon while dancing to a few a songs

from the radio
and the bugs skitter on saliva that sits on the porch,
she
yells.

''TOO LATE''

door slams and a picture falls from the wall and shatters into 17 pieces
leaving other fragments of wood.

I hear cars screeching outside as oil cascades onto the boardwalk.

an old lady is rubbing her thigh
and flicking her neck from the previous hour's injection.

I have yet to watch that show.

some guy wants my number but he has a fiancé and she thinks I look strange in my green overalls.

van gogh was a kind man.

I have got other errands.

my thumb Is protruding and the index still thumps sometimes
from when I sliced a good portion at work--

never compensated.

still walking on hot rocks

and still recycling newspapers.

still eating from tin cans on the dresser that I got for 3 cents in the
1930's.

have yet to read a book I've liked for some time.


still trying to make sense.

still writing.

still breathing and
pretending i'm a messiah.

still awaiting the crucifixion

I nurse the distant
past,

as it sits upon my lap and the

eternal hemisphere echoes in my chamber.

upon the light,
it delights at the fright as i fight
with great might to stray
from the plight
of your unsightly
kite.


heaven is near.

and hell is closer.

pull the plug beneath the carpet
and sip the glass
with the eyes of fortune
cast.

at last,

your feces taste of bitter misery
and oranges

this eastern european chick always sqauts next to me in an alley

at like 12:03 at night when i'm smoking a ciggarette
and it always makes me uncomfortable

but they have no familiarity with american spacial barriors or common neuroses.

and i'll say something like ''
hey''

and she'll nod and say something back in
polish but proceed to stare at her phone.

and i edge away about 2 inches
and she'll scoot ever closer.

and she doesn't find me attractive because i dress in a black poncho and wear an eyepatch with spikes on it.

then i'll flick the **** away and stomp it in the dirt and she keeps scooting closer
and closer

and closer

and closer
to something
until she
dissapears completely in the shadow that overhangs the streetway littered with bums

and fresh cut lemongrass

while wolfs howl in the rolling hills

i peel off a piece of paper that's stuck to the padding and which is green and lightly
folded at the end
and has scribbles from a child that happened to draw
a *******

and a ''I LOVE BURT'' heartagram.

and a chipmunk sneezes, but the libraian keeps typing on her phone,

and the guy in the corner with black strands of hair which peek out like a sad
mouse scratches his chin

and the follicles litter the desk.

underneath the floorboards
lurks the janitor who keeps his surveillance on 24/7 -
especially in the boysroom and does
seedy things
but he's been there 26 years and isn't really questioned.

and in the gymnasiam
a pizza party fundraiser with the amputees from hungaria dance and laugh and sip wine and ****** eachother's belly buttons.

one lady says
''yeah''
and another says

''yes''

and edward
says

''yes'' too

and the cars come by and pick them up for their dinner later on--
with the mashed potatoes and stuff and corn.

i kept going 12 years

and only ever cried twice.

a wetwilly is an adolescent's way of telling you they hate the sun

and that god
will strike you down when you disgrace your mother in the alley as the abortion is performed
on a gurgling fetus that looks remarkably like your dead soul in

an afternoon afterglow

outside a car is rolling by and they're throwing big blocks of wood

that sometimes other cars run over

and it splinters

and hits pedestrians and i hear

yelling and cursing

and babies shouting
as the ambulance arrives


and performs the heimlich-


and a hellicopter in the distance is swallowed by angry clouds.


any way-

i haven't been to the grocery store in 2 months-

but i buy plenty of energy drinks at the rite aid and sometimes nougat bars and various
fruits and grains.

i walk out of there
and a woman kind of leers at me, and her dog is lunging at me and i grip my knife--

but it was my fault
because i'm ugly apparently.

then the rain comes,

and i'm stuck for 6 hours swinging my head around and looking into an eclipse

and the *******

all ride ponies while the apocalyse looms ever nearer and


the doomsday horsemen behead a man in istanbul.


the bag of coins
is shiny like fresh tin foil

in a box of mints

today was an alright day.


i just don't really feel like writing about it.


work is fine

but it's only a story you can tell once,
and it's just
i don't even remember any of it.


i go in for my hours and come out
and can't recall a single thing said.

just mumbling and a few faint faces and the next week schedule and other

tedious adjustments
and the fact the mop
is broken

and the dust pan
tilts to the side

and there's never any fresh meat-

but plenty of onion,

and all girls quit in 4 days after they discover that it's indeed ***** and
their acrylic nails aren't suited to scrubbing
tiling and grime.


and my sweat drips
and it still sticks to me.
and i walk home
and flip off ******* driving too close to me - challenging me for the fact that i even
wake up to this
and go at it
day after day after day

after day

after day.,,


everyone's a sadist   --

and everyone is afraid

myself included

but i still dream of flowers in the rain

standing over a bridge


as the change
plops into the water

and the hobo

makes his wish.


the little girl

is chatting

whilst her icecream
drips to the cement.


seagulls

squeel
for crumbs
that the beach people leave behind.


hamburger
aroma
spills into the vicinity.

blue skies
are magnified

by cloud mirrors.


a forearm is tensed

and a grip squeezed

and everything
is put into is proper
place

,

and everyone
smiles heartily

and everyone takes
in 3 breaths


while
death
sighs

and goes for a quick swim
--

the trickling



of a cool mist


spills on my forehead----


and the evaporated *****
crusty on my elbows

begin to flake into the ventilation system.



some girl is shaving her arms on the 2nd story,

and beneath her is an ostrich
screaming at an elephant
for its last spoonful of monkey meat.


a man with a hydro-head sips lemonade in the shadows
and jerks himself while old grannies clutch pearls.

a dog
eats an alligator on the 4th of july after watching cartoons in the afternoon.

a priest is being mollested
by a todler

and a muslim is kissing the feet of an abusive female.

Trump is eating cornflakes
while hillary


is reading her emails and arranging for pizza parties.


obama is a limo getting a blow-job from Trudeau,


and Africa is sending foreign aid to the US to quell the ZIKA outbreak.

Reagan is resurrected.

and papa is sitting in an oven getting deloused with Cyclon-B.

meanwhile
lucifer
is knitting a sweater in the hamptons while the kardashians eat strawberries from a **** bowl

and everything gets washed away and becomes a steely white

as the scent of cinnamon
flows through your nostrils

and your blood is injected with happiness forevermore

bleak


and raw.



the waters strip the fur
from the creature
as it floats through the ravine.


a fly
lands on a sardine sitting on a porch
in portugal
and the man swats it away
with great ferocity.

i'm outside
watching
the fireworks

and the bleeding of my gums
results in a splitting headache.

gunshots are heard--

and voices
are drowned
by the whizzing of the train

and the breathing of the dead ladies in the banquet hall.

screeching armies
make their way through the castle

and the ****** is extraordinary--
and they become willing wives.

and the offspring are plentiful.

and the roses are vibrant and luscious in the spring sunset.


but despite all this,

i still sit in my chair

and the walls
bleed a pale yellow into my soul
and endlessly
endeavor to erase me for
eternity.

i once
paid
for a *****


and it was a two for one special-

and she took an additional $40 from my wallet
of which i forgot to subract from the $160 total.

it was after a concert.

and i drove home
then walked a little bit around a pond and fed a few ducks and it smelled from the rotting goldfish
and the old mexican lady washing her clothes with that familiar
stench wafting around.

i was tired.
but i was buzzed for a good 3 days, and i just don't know what i'm even doing anymore
or what this all means.

but the fact that i remembered it must mean something-

maybe that i should try it again,

or at least just buy a doll on amazon for 350 dollars and a new pair of shoes
for
church on saturday
because this other pair is getting kind of ratty.

but really
my head itches sometimes and these people outside want to **** me

and the earthquake
stole my children from me when i was barren for so many years.

years wasted

i remember someone
long ago

asked me why

i liked to walk on the sidewalk
while wearing
an armani
suit in the 93 degree heat.

i told him
,

that sometimes
your style
is a just your manner
of thinking of things

and that oftentimes
your confusion
is just measurement
or volume
of what really is upsetting your past self in a dimension of

satisfactory
fortitude.

then he nodded
and the next
day i saw him in the same armani suit in the
93 degree
heat
telling
all the other people the same thing
and they started wearing their own armani
suits
but it stopped being
93 degrees outside
and more like a cool
23
centigrade

my back hurts and i have no lotion to soothe the pain and alleviate the aches
that crack within the walls
of this treasured
illusion.




pointed
remarks
by dicators
slip from the tongues of squirrelly
amusements
and feast
within the belly of hanged entrails.



the last of us
are starving
and the few
that have
remained
will be shot down
like


a gross animal among the astonished herd

there's a syringe filled to the dropper with ******

and a blackened spoon on the kitchen counter.

he was in the bathroom shooting up and left this one for later
but in a daze
forgot to consider
that others would be home early.

i didn't care.

i've stepped on many ***** syringes before
and as a child
poked myself by accident
a few times as well.

i don't have hepatitis luckily
but to me
it was just an annoying prickly receptacle

full of enough intoxicant to be
lethal to any person
without a tolerance.

i just banged on the door.

''hey if i see this ****
again
i'll break your arm''.

i heard faint mumble from within
and left him to get high.

he was going to leave within the next day or two any way.

must be fun,
and millions are having fun,


why bother them?

they know what they're doing
it's just
the lack of respect i don't appreciate.

and the fact that they get to **** themselves in plain view
while
we die
oftentimes in slower subtler ways

i rolled
over


and i felt
it licking my face,

then it crawled up my neck
and into my nose.

it was slimy

yet smooth at the same time

and the taste of ****
seaped into my esophagus.


and as it sat in there for a few minutes

i felt the eggs
begin
to pulsate
,

and the tingling
from the hatchlings

as they began
to skkitter from within.

and as all this happened
,
i continued to lie,
almost compelled
to see this beautiful miracle play out.


and then i brushed my teeth

and went to bed a second time

and had a glass
of grape cider
and she nestled beside me and told
me how
i was going to be a great husband--

and that her babies were
strong
from the milk

and kisses.

milk and kisses
always
and always

got
up yesterday

and took
a ****

straight into a

can of heinz baked
beans

then placed
back into the freezer.

some days down
the line

an acquantence
found the beans
and took a bite
and complimented my culinary ability.


branches
were swining outside
from the coming
hurricane
and few
lizards
rolled underneat the carpet so as to escape the elements
and absorb the warmth.


suzy
is still crazy,

but she died in december.

george is ugly
like a cancerous bat-faced
ectomorph
but has a heart of gold.

larry is just a ***-

and he knows it.


but some nights
i still cuddle
with dawn
and speak to the mermaids that kiss me goodnight
as i stroke myself
to sleep
in a dull
memory
and voided
receipt that is the 'hour of beguilement'.

i strangled the *****

with a pair of ***** undwereear


then proceeded
to stuff a sock up her ****.


her eyes were forced open

and her *******
was filled with celery.


then i lit the fire
and the place
erupted
into an inferno
with smoke
dancing
miles
away like a ***** toad.


and upon them examining
the ashes,

they found
3 split
hairs

and fourtneen
canine teeth.


there was no sign of struggle,

but it didn't matter
because jeaporady was on
and I knew
ALL the answers that night

i ate
an apple


while the hamster

began swinginf from thte branch


and licking

juices
from the cat
droppings which
formed
an impressive pile in the corner of the room.


the door
swings open

and man
yells
for the broom
so as to bash someone on the head---

usually
a random child who would spit gum on the lawn.


laughter is evident
and the breeze is cool
and the sun
is healing

and the clouds

are soaring
over equador.


i eat 6 chicken fingers

and 4 burgers
with a glass of juice.

ciggarettes are $10 now
so **** that.


and the fat lady outside with her little dog alwyas on the phone and always
glaring at me
will one day be vaporized by an incoming meteor shower which
specifically targets
her hut on the culdesac.


worms
are eating my ulcers

and the sweat
quenches my thirst

when sometimes
i'd rather be out talking to myself in peace

because

no one bothers a crazy person
especially when they're just mere centimeters
away

and ready to ****

i remember going to sizzler
with my mom and my 2 brothers
and some random guy and lady---

all at the table.


and she'd load up the tray with dinosaur nuggets
and cabbage
and parsely
and split pea soup

and swirly icecream

of which you could fill a bucket and

only get a light scolding from the waitress with her 4 freckles.


i'd eat that stuff,
and there'd be faint music and clinking

and dishes breaking
and children laughing and crying

and burps from old people

and farting
from overzealous husbands
who would proclaim flatulance as being a sign of
gratitude for one's meal in
China


if you've ever heard.



and the carpet would be drenched in animal ****

and the air
thick will fillaments
and greasy dust--

and my eyes would water,
and the memories
would be a haze,


but it was always rather pleasant.


and the best part was the red ballon with the 'S' logo.

and it'd pop usually upon arriving home after you sit on it or something like that---


Then many years later
i went back with a friend
and his dad who happened to be pretty drunk
and we were listening to Lennon's "Wheels Go By''


and the waiter
was younger and better looking and had less disdain--

and i just got chocolate icecream.


but there were no swirls.

the swirles were long gone.

dead even.

dead .


and then i flicked my ciggarette into an immaculate ashtray

and a few ladies
talked about the lunch specials.

and my stomach gurgled
and we went
to ihop instead.

dancing on the freeway
while flipping off the drivers and ******* into someone's yard
whilst eating a
lettuce
wrap.


they swerve around me
and honk
and weave in and out of lanes

and scream

and cry

and throw rotten fruit onto me.


fires erupt in the distance

and several
buildings collapse
into thin dust.


ruins are uncovered
showing the slow ascent of man.

discoveries are made,

then the shots are fired

and hit me in the gut
and temple.

it flings off of my chin
and onto the cement
clicking my toe.


bloods spills out
and i crap myself from the excitement.


the excrement collects into a neat pile.


then the helicopter
fro ma distance shouts at me,
telling me to

''GET ON THE GROUND

AND
TUCK IN YOUR GENITALS''

i comply
.


and the news crew
rolls up and interviews me,

and i spit on the womans face

and she ****
and rrubs her *****
behind a bush in the distance.


and i'm handcuffed
and throw into
a van,


and slowly
ripped apart
by
aligators

as they throw me into a laggoon

and spell
my name wrong
on the urn


and drop me into a boiling vat of lubricant for the elederly.


and then my eyes
close


and death
is slow release


and none of my relevatives
are sitting at the gate

,,


just a few

birds

that form a beautiful V
in the rising dawn sky

my eyes are heavy

and crusted.

and this coffee
is cold.

she woke me up to too early.

screaming in my ear
and telling me to get a job.

then I just ate potatoes,---

kind of greasy.
no ketchup.

but it's morning,

and i'm smiling.

what a surprise.

''the leaves are green and beautiful.

and there's no snow. and there's birds out here.
like a Disney movie''.

just like a Disney movie.

what has happened to me....
!

sometimes
you just
sit there asking
yourself
if you're
okay.

''are you okay?"

I sit
and breathe,

and a few
tears
form.

i'm smiling,

and I just like
to hear
a few
crickets
dancing
in
the leaves.

now that
they're
no
longer screaming

don't give
no *****
when the ceiling

;
is falling
on top of me.


give no *****
when my lungs
fill with tar.


''have a balogne sandwich.''

''yes. mustard too''
I reply.

but then
why do I always get the crust?