lonely park benches
hold hands
with the humiliated.

my seeds convulse
with caustic
adrenal
fire.

a mutiny to melt
the will from my want.

a life grows inside me
a tumor with teeth and hair

to leave me

to chew
through the weight that i wear.

it leaves me
like a spirit
to possess you.

i can see
through your clothes
through your skin.

youre a dancing skeleton.

held together with
muscles of the heart.

sliding into my psyche;
youre an apparition

leaving glass fingerprints
all over my kissing skull
as we shatter into people.

love spoke centuries
about our names

a sound only bouncing between us
now that weve met;

making our shapes
and making them mouths
to speak our own sounds
to eachother.

.

if i gave my family gold cars
theyd ask me who i was
and id realize i was lost
in a strange neighborhood.

i would ask for a ride somewhere
and theyd ask where
and i would realize
i just need to walk.

i look for love
when i become tired of myself
and want to share it
with someone else.

by the time you realize
you have nothing smart to think
youre distracted.

and you can have more of a connection with a toad
who looks at you
than with your soulmate
if you never meet.

and your soulmate might be a toad
who your thinking of.

but you may never know
as your distracted by a fly.

then the toad eats the fly
and life is obvious
but makes no sense.

true love will find you in the end.
theres nothing left to mend.
youll live your broken life.
and youll find your broken wife.
and youll buy a house to fix.
and adopt a broken mouse to fix.

im a city boy
a ***** city boy
i live in a hot city
filled with ugly people.
it gets so hot
that sometimes i tyink its the heat
that must melt their faces off
to show how ugly they are underneath.
oh in my city
if you walk for an hour or more
youll find the ocean.
and on the beach there are some people who are in love i guess.
and they may think that the ocean
and eacother are pretty.
but will they love eachother
when they have cancer in a bed
from breathing that ***** city
air i guess they wouldnt be alone when they die
if they hadnt lived there
well neither would i, so.
i shut my eyes sometimes and try yo be a part of nature.
but the only nature that comes close to me is the mosquitoes.
i let them **** on my blood and i try to ignore em.
but then i hear some some rap and people talking about *** and crack
while im trying to stay clean,
well those mosquitoes, ive got some
***** city blood for em.

if i ever met a moose hed ask me
for my social security number.
and if i ever got attacked by a bear
itd be during his winter hibernation.
and if a mountain man ever told me his wisdoms hed sound like a crazy mumbler.
yeah everyone in the city looks at you crazy if you dont make sense
but they dont make sense.
and even the cleanest city in the world wouldnt make sense because,
people and cities dont make sense.
i think cities without people and
people without cities make more sense than rap and *** and crack.

time
to climb
the tallest building.
so i can ask a very rich man
what time it is.
and he'll look at me and call security
and have me escorted from the building.
but in the minut that im up there
ill forget about the time
because maybe ill be able to see the stars for the first time.

the police men have my face
in their computers in their cars.
and because i was poor in the city
and doing drugs i ended up behind bars.
but now i know that no matter where you are you can be in a spiritual prison.
but our cities are are gonna sink our mountains so we're gonna make a city fly to mars..
so we can go there and start over so we can make some cities so we can have wars again.

i live in a city named after a fish
in a homeless shelter.
one day a cute little kitty showed up
she was lost and scared and i helped her.
so shes my homeless kitty and now i love her.
i guess shes probably hungry so im gonna give her some fish.

if my ego
were bigger than i
then i would feel
very small.

its a nightmare
ill never wake up.

in the minds eye
is a minds eye.

we see who blinks first.

my skin is a wax coat of pesticides.
leaking into the moisture of my meat.
my pit is a genetically unsound mass.

the only pure fruit
is the idea of the fruit.

it blossoms in a field
which weighs less than air.
it feeds on a substance
lighter than light.

in my past life
i was a dog.
i went to my grave
several centuries from now
and dug up my elephant bones.
i went back and gave myself
my bones to chew on.
patted my head.
scratched behind the ears.
sat and became friends.
watched him grow old and die.
i dont have the heart
to leave his side.

as a child
i lay awake
with zombies floating
outside of my window.

too terrified
to sleep.

not long ago
i was a zombie
breaking the glass
of my childhood window
seeing the boy in bed
as i peeled off my skin
and crawled through
to eat him.

one day youll look in your heart
and youll see everyone.

observe with eye
see with soul
heal with hand
touch with love
love with mind
think with heart
feel with empathy
learn with emotion
interperate with consciousness
teach with compassion

i crawled in here
like an emaciated
****** up
catipillar.

im gonna fly out
like a half-*******
butterfly.

a belly fat
off the nectar
of this place.

the spiders in my dream
crawl out through my ear
and into my shelter.

i wake
and watch them
while they sleep.

age chases you
and beats you
to the ground
unless you
set aside
time to
sit and
wait
for
it
.

i talk to old ghosts
who have changed their bodies.
they look at me
and ask with their eyes
"how have you been?
what have you been doing?"

and im speechless.
glued to the chair.
ive filled up with smoke.

"i have no idea.
i really couldnt tell you."

the past 8 years.
theyre not real anymore.
i wouldve given up my life
for so many moments
but now cant remember
who i was
or who i was with
or who i loved
or what was so funny.

the past 8 years
were a thundercloud
and rained down
each hydrating moment
and i look back
and all the puddles have dried
without the courtesy
of heat waves
at the end of the road
and everyone stays inside
because its too hot now.

soon the ghost will leave
and ill be a mirage
talking to myself
in the city.

you end up where i am.
you dont know how you got there.
youre starved and youre weak
like youve been walking for days.

i have some food set up.
at the bottom of a lake.
we make our way to it
i move the water with my mind.

you eat and you feel better.
youre strength returns to you.
youre mind returns to you
but the food it isnt real.

its what i put into your mind
at the bottom of a lake.

we talk of how weve been.
youve been so lost without me.
this is what you feel
but these emotions are not real.

im feeling weak
you start to see
the ugly in my face.

i force with all my strength
the love i send into your head.

you start to shake
convulse and sweat
my eyes are rolling white.
im absent.

your skin starts
to crack with heat
you scream
i wake
and you ignite.

your heat is white and floating
and youre floating above me.

i forced love in your mind
and were quieted by the lake.

.not a poem.

staring at eachother
through telescopes
we show our skin.

stare into eachothers lense
and we see nothing
but our pure
naked
self.

a family is snowed in
in a small house
miles from the
neighbors.

they pray.

an angel comes
to guide the way to safety.

the father thinks better of it.

he shoots the angel.

they feed on the meat for weeks.

built from the bones
of the horse who pulls it

and the skin
of the human
it holds.

i need a new place to live.
my body is a corrupt state.
the townships
are promised fortune
by big business moving in.
supplying me with a job
so i can buy what they sell.

a basketball sits still
and alone
in a vacant playground
filled with only
the stare of the moon.

a small bicycle
lies on its side
just outside the gate.

a family shakes and cries
next to a telephone
silent and avoiding the facts.

a man is fat
off of the contents
of the child
who he sweats out
dazed and in a
fog of zen.

the moon
continues its search
for nine months.

and that same child is found
in a new body
with a new happy family.

twenty-six years later
the child is a man
with a child of his own.

that child is stolen
from a playground
vacant except for
the stare of the moon.

the man searches and finds
his child
in the back bedroom
of an aging fat man.

the moon smiles
and rests its eyes
and dreams of
this beautiful revenge.

you can have your cake
and eat it too.
unfortunately thats pretty much
the icing on the cake.

you invent the enemy.
there is no enemy.
you are the enemy.
and there is no you.

las pécas en el ciélo
son las constaleciónes
en tú piel.

i walk my hands
around the table
or on the floor
and watch them become friends.

and ill watch them fall in love.

and ill watch them get into fights
and they wont talk to eachother
for weeks.

and in that time
i cant eat.
i cant sleep.

the most intimate ive been
with anyone
in a long time
has been with my own hemorroid.

if i die
before i wake
please eat me.

lets all do some synthetic drugs.
then give eachother
some synthetic hugs.
then get real violent.

ive become a naked woman.

ill give thousands
of naked children
to the world.

ill cry until the earth
is a cold and distant earth
when they leave to love
the other naked women
of the world.

ill have no use
for my naked body then.

a being
pre-human
plays so perfectly
a violin
inside the belly
of a leviathan.

the sea swells
with his emotion.

the leviathan will never wake.

the moment before
it became enlightened
i performed a mercy ****
on a burning ant.

i  thought it was saintly
but then i realized
i was a monster.

when i become a burning ant
ill know the true nature
of my murderer.

by the time it comes out
its already decaying.

staring at it
wont bring it back.

its life had no meaning.

and its left buried
behind an ophanage
with all the other children.

i look inside myself long enough
and see a skeleton
trying to dig his way out.

it floats in me
like dead birds
in a dead sea.

i cant grab it
and cook it
and eat it.

black bird armada
sends me signals
their constellation is a code.
the living hierogram
digests the moments of peace
they pass through.

the night is in its egg

the trash in my mind
should be burned.

gods good girls are jews.
american jews.
sometimes i want to **** em.
im pretty sure they want to
**** me too.

i guess theyre not so good.
but god does like a show.

i once sed
if you took every song
ever made
or ever sung
and played them
all at once
it would be
the sound of god.

im coming back down
to the ground.

this where i belong.

i wrote this dream in a song.

no.

im never coming down
to the ground.

this is where i belong.

the world is now jnga.
all sponsored by spoiled children.

.

i never wrote one for you
but now i have.