I'm alone whilst touching flesh, heart to heart, blood to blood.
Sticks for hands grab at a bended waist and the hair tangles with every ******.
I can now forget to blow out my head, I'll be late anyway

I think I believe in God again.  I hated him like I did my own father for a while, but he was always there, I just chose to ignore him and I'm ready to talk again
It's been too long. How's Mom?

Stop laughing at me you ***** before i sever your throat and place
You on a mantle
.SMILEING

with the sun

and saturn with his children
All but

Digested
.

No heirs for a
KING

No heirs for the priest.
67777777777777


Io


It sets down in the blue
hills

I like poetry,

but it just feels too comfortable here for the world
having me packed in a room

just typing crap.


just an animal in a cage banging its head on a wall
as a means to make vibration,

music.


I don't want to be 'music' to anyone's ears,

I want to be the knife to the neck

I forgot how to be a human.  The instructions are simple
:
Breathe, ****, reproduce. Eat


Suffocate in a pale room
Odd time signatures I peel a lemon,
Skinless cat sighs.
Wrapped in krylon
2 note phrases

"I want you, gimmie"
I want a light bulb tenor.
Take a **** in the bowl. Bowels on display, I go boweling. Such fine bowels. You bleed every time.         Rinse out your mouth dear.
0

Who hit the moon?
  With 2 carcasses, the rocks are sublime. Small step for man,  giant leap
for mankind.
Noble savages

a nameless poem as you skulk around in your winter coat;
running water
with a rusty faucet.

He got his first tattoo; so did the mail clerk, and
lady  making stew.  We peel away our desires.
last I tried, I looked up to a haze and stole my own dreams . IF you want to speak unwind your tongue.
fissures
  on a back
  like steely remains.  Demons may only dissolve in cool
lava ,
beat away the forces that keep you repressed. & Don't apologize
ever again

Derelict in the chu chu
  frightened by life
pig **** scraped up in the bile vacuum
Your ***** half-hanging
g your ******* loose
a jar of flies
& Clown juice
13 halves  & 1 whole spectrum of decay

The warring tribes silently plunder the peaceful nation
admist negotiations of embezzled money
the small hat crowd throws bombs on hospitals of children
The violin player sits with his mistress singing songs about
Satan
& His bewilderment
The ****** and unfucked go devirgining the congregation of small eyed
fairies
Im still awake,
And it's 3:46
And I have nothing to do
Im now completely cooked
So they say
I wish I was a supernova star

Splattered in concrete like decent ommissions
Like ethereal gods
Like rotted pine and faulty seeds
Like withered lungs & crusty pig ****
Like  laughing dogs and cunty cats
Like frolicking lilyhammers
Like ****** bullmen
Like sexless libras
Like tight stewardess *** in the 90s
Like a poptart tomorrow
Like the last liberal
Conservative
Connected to the wifi
Take a stige
And laugh
Why not lol
Ok
   Ok ok
This is like myself

******* is what life is about. Splatters. Humor.  Who gives a ****.
Reinhardt
Black.
Rothko pastel majesty .
Ambiguous, neurotic yet disciplined .
Like a blind horse let loose among the plains. No rider to be found

No ****** and taming
No collars among beasts.

Wide space, wide flowing air.  Galloping and triumphant while the weeds bend against the might

I got a like by a guy,
His name was Mystery

So intriguing and conjuring up images of a night club hack

Poets are usually named Phil
Or Jane

Never the

I'll take the one on the left.

You find someone special and then they leave.
You find something special and then it disappears, used up.
All comfort is temporary
Accept the pain
And accept the fact that love is transient and fleeting, but that is why it is beautiful
It's not here forever,
It merely visits

nothing to do,
    there's a black cloud  in  the bright sun--
crushing leaves as you trudge in
the noon mist

neighbor
is beating a rock with his clump of wood and it makes a
cacophony of bass-
lit, I wish I had the words to say-
just spilling out because there's nothing to keep it in. coming undone and its not
nice, nor that interesting

I played the guitar on the steps last year
when I tried
to be a friend to you


I played the piano
in the afternoon when I tried to be a good guy

I played the string
in the evening when
I tried to be a joker

I played the kazoo
when I ran out of things to do

you knew it all along --

talent is something we laugh at
when we're staving out  on the vine  --- rolled over too many times

Rise up rise up
Rise up
to the dogs and choirs and to the
Audience that stares, sigh slightly and gratefully
You only ever had yourself,.  They came as parasites after
   and left  as the fire started to rage in the combing street below the hospital windows

writing just to write is sickness     or a means of self psychiatry


it's really really
late

and i like to pretend i'm drunk because I've quit drinking and doing  drugs like a loser about a year ago.

but i like to ramble.

capitalization should be prioritized more.


WAKIING up tomorrow
at noon and sunbathing.

buying a glass of milk   and maybe finally talking to someone
rather than just myself all the
time

If there are no mistakes in art
Then there are no mistakes in
life

let it go

microsoft computer
and the apple
modems


a Viacom tv flicker
and a Sony hologram player


a samsung
automobile

and a blu-tooth
Yamaha

green flower
beaten under the harsh wind

pain is being too numb to feel any thing

you only want me because I'm the one person who won't
give you what you want, because you should
know better

out on the lawn



you've got packed lunch.

your friends are dumb


and i'm just about to dive
down.


hand me
the torch--


in the bed post
i buried
her,

and she still breathes in my ear

ever after all these years

This is the beginning
****** off in my head again
today
it's all the same

Plastic people
Hold my hand
Light a fire so I can dance
Tonight
So uptight

And we got nothing to lose today
And we got nothing to do or say
And we got nothing to lose

Dead corpses
Line the streets
Feeding all the children and the strays
It's all so grey

Picking up pennies for my slavery
Spent it all on my pain
It's another day

And we got nothing to lose

I hate that  I sometimes come across as narcissistic

i hate that decided to pursue art rather
than just get a normal job and live an inconspicuous existence
with an understanding partner  and  a simple home.

i hate that i'm lying here at 4:55  feeling sick.

I hate that's it's raining.

I hate that I don't like a great majority of my work or at least
come to resent it later.


I hate the fact that nothing  satisfies  me -
even when I try and put in a great amount of effort.

I have a better physique than 90% of people
and quit using drugs
and alcohol and cigarettes    and still feel like garbage.


I hate that
I don't trust

and generally assume the worst in humanity  and this life in general.


I hate
that  I see much more beauty in ugliness.


I'm ready to return to nonexistence.

or If i'm apart of you , and we're all one  'beautiful   spiritual essence---

I'll see us soon

I have some deep seated manic issues   I legimitately wanted to **** myself 2 days ago, now I feel amazing
then it'll be the same
tomorrow


I'm living in this moment right now though.


love is easy when you re loved

at least in your own head

I could  write 1000  poems

and get a nobel  prize  ,

but at the end of the day

there's no closure.

i'm in this ****  hole,


it's cold.

i still idealistically believe that  the 'right person' could change things when we all know it doesn't.

I hope   i don't wake up this time.

I hope  
  everything goes away


good night

the elephants

in the dancing hall
keep stomping on the mouse


the burger -king fries keep beating the lady into submission
until she
stops rubbing the hand-clock

the boy
keeps
kissing the elk as it moans in the night


the cat
keeps slapping the
fool as he tells his
story


the moon keeps
wondering if it's worth
even waking up

As I write i feel the humming in my head like a hummingbird pecking fruit. I hear my tinnitus and I hear a running faucet. I hear the distinct sound of nothing and I lay here on my bed with my mesh shorts
I have nothing to say but I've simply reflected on my life quite a bit. I need to make a load of changes. I won't spam poems of despair if I'm not actively making an effort. I have a fair idea how this will all end, but the effort is worthwhile nonetheless.

I have $55
I walk into a grocery store and buy lemons

I walk into a post office and hear hissing

I sold the old stolen bike.

I am a prayer to noone
Battered and bruised but the pain is a reminder of my persistence.

I have moved on from toxic relationships and that has left me with no relationships. Maybe I'm the problem. But I'm not giving up. I'm giving in
To my better self

Endless neuroses

pulling the trigger takes courage
Jumping from a burning building
Is an of act of desperation
Where this ends I don't know
I keep walking towards the fire

I hope one day it all crumbles

& The infrastructure is swallowed into the abyss.
& all strata of man and woman pummeled like a grey mallet
into a vengeful rock.

And then the old ones can stare from afar and ponder their fate.
All gods die

there's an obligation  to type something out on a day like this -

and the stratosphere blooms
and the exhale   of the black matter   is like sad comfort

I'm a *** loser,
white ni**er,
Chardonnay drinking,

steel reserve swill swallowing sack of pig ****,
road manure,
filthy

stain beneath the *** of a circuis clown.

  If you find me dead,
don't bother alerting the authorities, they don't deserve the hassle
of
sanitizing my waste.

     Let the dirt eat me;
and the field mice
live in my skull.

I will speak to the eternal garden and ride along with the valkyries to hell.
I am an artist and this is my punishment

This is not for you

This is not for your ears.


Hide away in the cellar

Play mercy

And ragtime witch pop.

We drag our sins across looming

Seas.
9p00

why is it every time
that a girl laughs i assume they're laughing at me?

big boisterous,
hearty laughs that shake the whole house.

laughing at me
or the idea of me

i laugh too

Back to the ugly

Like a cyclical hell.
I was here 7 years ago, & I wondered if things would be different.
All procrastination and all sides quests -

If you're resolute on the end, then it will end.

These people and places I intermingled with were mere distractions.  Happiness is a warm gun
- lennon

I have realized that im a prose writer who just writes with

odd



spacing.

It's time to stop pretending,

Or just time to be courageous and write what im supposed to.

But i cant be here anymore.

2 thousand poems and i have said nothing

Death awakened me and it was like a handshake in pale light. I felt the immediate reverberation of a dismal fleck of starlight harangued in the glossy aether.
   To pass away meant passing by. The painter wipes the last of the blue hues on his apron, the weathered book clasps shut, I see a dog running and a fountain trickle down a path to my home. Somewhere I've never been, but always remembered.

000+00p000


Sit down

     Lay down

the bag and collect your payment.

Who are these people

even in this uninhabited niche corner of the Internet where I'm mostly anonymous
& mostly free from criticism seeing as
as barely anyone engages or comments,
I still feel guilty 'venting' or
coming across
as weak
I'm truly hurting here, and I wish I had someone to pour myself into
But
I'm not as strong as
I think I am

I'm held up with tape & bandages, and I need to let go of the act.
I'm only human, and this pain isn't a state of mind,
it's an alarm to my senses & psyche telling me I
Need help, & I need to change
because this is clearly no longer
working

I  don't want anything   right                                     now

i  want my
bitcoin  to     yield better returns

I guess.


Blue

blue


blue                                              into                 a                lake          of

needles
spelling out

                                                                                     your mistress.


pulse felt
beyond the dead.

beyond here and now.

staring
at you

and   knowing  

it all

Lost my way long ago
doesnt mean I cant find another
path

God is here
He's got a big face
There's children in the garage
This is wasting ink
Writing for a son
Nowhere to be found

Put a fist up my head
Saw 3 truths
1 about blowing smoke
2 about talking to strangers

Hopefully I can find the meaning down the road
I'm a little sick
And it's whatever
This time it's now

so my grandpa died.  I didn't really know him.    He played guitar and taught me Tears in heaven.
he had a star tattoo he got in '49.

He drove a jeep-

he had 2 cats,
   and liked to sing gospel choir.

his room had floral
curtains.

he had a shotgun that i shot.

I liked him.  Not everything is profound

I just liked him

I remember the **** who who would give me a ******* everyday after middle school

one day I'll be gone and we'll both be free

through the fog i see you, still & alone
Your face is a radiant blue
I miss you
Even though I no longer know you
I remember the silk waves and the sunny
disposition
I remember the screams into nothing
My soul is still searching
for what we had
so perfect in its imperfection

12       hours  is all it takes  for the shore line to recede and return into

a crumbling abyss
overlooking an  albatross prairie.


if There was no alternative
then what is your  choice?

I see she is a baker ,,   and      a mincer and maid   and protagonist
to a fairytale.

she is tall
and weary.

the nicest eyes ---    but still so  malevolent.

I take a bath in the cold air,   as the leaf  sits like a balloon  on   a gush-geiser blowing crystals 3000ft into the air
no room for the  wanderer.


I PICKED UP THE TOME

I read the last chapter.  

What you said about throwing your own book into the night
weeping for what may have come to her
struck me as profound.

not a lot touches me.

Words are tired
the pain is literal
Metaphors are
for the hopeful

I have no hope
It's only brought pain
Ask the ascetics

Ask the crackhead
in the ditch
Ask yourself

It goes in the slot,
****** it in tighter as tight as you can so sparks start flying out and the thing starts to smoke, then shove it in with your hand and fist like a forceful piston til the thing is vibrating and ready to explode with the juice leaking out and creating a puddle. Continue with this thrusting motion for a good few seconds until the pickle eventually loosens from the jar and apply to your sandwich for your hearty brunch

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