Today entails a small bit of
day drinking
I'm clad in a string bikini
and a chilled beer bottle
pressed to my lips.
It feels fantastic
to get a little drunk
at 2 in the afternoon

And yet, it also kind of
numbs the Pain,
the Pain of feeling
like a complete failure
or vapid
or inadequate
in life, love, and green

I'm dwelling on my
most personal desires:
a sweaty yoga practice,
deep beats pounding through my Body,
ironing white dress shirts,
the feeling that I am a piece of art:
you can look but you do not touch Me

Niceties tend to fly out the window
when the tiniest bit of liquor
enters My Temple.
Completely aware of
my role as
sugar, spice, everything nice;
its a balancing act
between the good and bad
coursing through my veins

There is nothing nobler
than being Good,
but sometimes it is
Oh. So. Good
to be Bad

it's different.
not foreign, nor organic.
tongue flicking and suckling at her sweet spots,
she moans and whimpers in response to my touch.
she is a smooth, warm creature
wrapped in alabaster
the epitome of comfort.
i see the appeal.

soft dawn electrifying the stillness of night

heated humans reduced into one puddle

the sound of breath escaping slumber

silky fingers gingerly trailing muscle

a slice of toast swaddled in milk fat

this lazy morning is sweet like butter

I can no longer say that I am
jolted.
There is nothing more to be
added
or
mended.
What
came to pass was ice
melted
by the Saharan sun;
annihilated,
forever
vanished.
But even from its infancy when things were good and true,
the foremost duty was
always
truancy.
I can no longer say that I am
jolted:
my indifference is the
green light.

She is gone
And eternity will not soften these sorrows
Will not change the rivers
Will not alter their course
Only set in stone stupidity
Those fallacies
That justify wasting this life
In favor of the next

He is gone
Though the nightmares continue
Wars are still raging
The heavenly host are not saving
The women from ******
And the children from dying

I am dead
King of corpses
Equal, more, and less to all
The master of dirt
I did not turn away
I listened even when it caused me pain
Even when it caused me shame
Even when the bad news came

God is dead
That never was walking *******
Excuses
We used
To justify the abuse
They do not work
The only demon that exists
Persists in ill intent

He came to me in a dream
with friendly teeth and
conversation; casual,
Conversation at his side
an entity in itself,
as his echoed thought;
Neither of which
was familiar.

The Dinosuar,
wearing his smile
I was happy to see
it made me happy
to see him,
not at all afraid
to ask
T-Rex with his
red breast,

"what do you see,
how shines my aura"

it is clean, it is pretty?
see how it sparkles,
surely it dances?

"nay, he says "I would
more describe it as Avesta'
A library of sacred text."

yes, chimes his shadow,
sir conversation,
I would describe it
as Avesta too"

Disappointment mixed
with confusion, an
ancient religion.

I would have much preferred
sprinkles and Rainbows,
maybe some
glitter.

If I
Produced as much art
as the trash I consume
well
things would be different

Control factor
reports back to home
lets mother know
how the kids are doing
there is minimal damage,
only their brains
seemed to have turned milky....
short fused

It must be in the air,
or so the water carries
in flagrant disguise
so much sickness

What is left over
will only remain in darkness
in shallow water

These burials come quick
No not too deep
we want to smell
blue carnage
Scads a legion
herds of people
like cattle, drenched and soaked
from head to toe

We bury you
let eyeball peer through
so you can still see
the red mud
the many faces
contorted piles
one massive cadaver