we could cut the dictionary by a third.
we could cut the writing in hundredths.
who knew there was a d in there.

all my selfless acts are acts.
and always cause a scene.
i dont kno how to be virtuous and graceful simultaneously,
but i kno how id lke the play to run.
as something serious and remote from me.
my involvement in a beautiful smile gives me one half its width.

all those Bad people? those ******* who arent even civil enough to take a life?
those monsters:
who capture the lives and take from them. take eyes and fat and wombs. wutever they take. they kno. from things that kno its very very bad. well they dont really understand, i Guess.
those dont feel wut theyre doing anyway. and they make profit to keep their homes clean and large but i doubt any strength is involved with their families living in such nice homes. putting on daddys makeup from the stupid monkeys and whales and complaining in adolescence but full of makeup probably later on. because we have to forgive. and the stupid monkeys have no idea. wut the whale is feeling. because neither of them kno, but they feel it.
and wen things are bad...those PEOPLE, those people who do the worst and are covered by law while the dying worlds got their baks, wen things get reeeeal bad...for those really Fukd up pieces of **** in sharkskin suits? wen that happens like that to them, they **** their sharkskin pants. because they all believe in god against their better judgment wen their in a tigers mouth or sinking from a ship or being ***** and their face smashed by animal hands. so i guess they feel wuts populating their lives and then their souls too. i guess i havent really told you wut this makes me feel. and i dont kno wut to think. no one does. and i havent done anything.

i like the werd comedy because its a mixture of the werds tragedy and comedy.

ders ah leetola hole ah in ah dee woll in my housse wherre i like to go to crrawl into and ah hide and wear childrens clothing. Ah you knoww,, de diapers and ah things. twirly hats and big ah big ah BIG swirly lolli pops. so ah delicious of a baby do i become. EVERY stranger on de whole neighborhood wants to ah talk ah to mee. im so cute ah. ders a no way around it. and i like to ah show it off. yess... to enTICE ah dee old mens. who are so helpless in front of me dey can not ah stop. no stopp ah de drooling in de mouth. no stopp ah de grrabbing with der hanns. no stopp from de taking off ah de clothes ah to make a sandwich de amore with ah leetol baby mee. but ah dey ah can not ah FIT in dis tiny tiny tiny hole in ah my woll in ah my housse....and i go to bed lonely and crying. i feel ah so BAD! so BAD for de other lonely lonely mans who are all probably doing very ah cute things too in de holes in ah der wolls in ah der housses... it iss ah truth to bear.. god..no god...whoo knows.. all i ah do know iss diss: we are all ah lonely sad peoples dressing like de baby in ah hole in de wolls in ah our housse. for tears of crying, i give to you.

if there is a wind you better have a kite.
otherwise you are not a man.

have you ever squeezed to smell a bag filled with generations of ded flies?
youll kno it wen i spread my ded wounds over your airholes
as you suffocate on my nourishment.
slipping your name from my tongue to your ear while you sleep.

if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when your birth did aswell, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death with a barrel of a gun, then to put it in your mouth, but no need. youd drop ded. youd disappear. i guess thered just be the incubator filled with your sloppy child.

my girlfriend might have cancer and my dog might have cancer.
my cat cant *** and the other one is getting old but still orange.
my other cats, i dont want to think about it.
i used to cry when i thought about it.
i gave up on my life and failed my children.
but met the man im child to.
he sed he would take care of me and my little family then,
and since id given up on me, well how could i say no to that?
but that didnt happen.
of course IM fine. i know where i am. im right here.
computer.
a.c.
beer.
food.
(ill always have food. i could steal the cheese out of your sandwich and you wouldnt skip a bight.)
but my cats?...who knows.
i didnt do then and im not doing now.
because thats wut i do: i sit.
i sit and i watch and i worry and i wait and i drink and i forget and i watch some more,
just to remember what it is that im not doing.
and i continue living while everything around me dies.
as if i have the only gas-mask in chernobyl.
the only vaccine while everyone vomits their virus.
in the bomb shelter with the door welded shut.
i get the last piece of meat from your carcass and cook it.
and i eat like kings.

my body is filled with flies.
like feeding gas to a balloon
shaped like me.
when i burst
your family will know
pieces of my wet pestilence
grazing their lips and
mating in their wigs.
furiously scratching
the madness off of them,
covered like clowns,
in rotten
frowning
red
horror.

i love you all, but oh boy.
..wuts gonna happen?

-god

pre-apocolyptic.

i built an engine,
started her up.
watched the fans go.
watched the gears.
and stuck my head in it.

i hope you breathe in enough carbon monoxide to **** you on your way to work.

im write poetry.
am poetry write me.
how stupid though.

so give it up...
here, ill inspire you.

you leave me alone and i write poetry.
you leave me together and i fall apart.

my stomache is fat
and my organs dont work right.
im hooked up to a machine
and my feet are different sizes.
but at least my mind is happy.

i wouldnt be able to handle that.
i would cry.
i would want to **** myself.
i wouldnt be able to care for anyone.
and id leave you then join you.

i couldnt crawl into the portal of myself cuz i was there, trying to crawl out, and we couldnt fit.

when i think of dying
my actual moment of death
i cry.
its then that i think of everyone ive ever loved
and all the things ive known.
but when we die
most of us experience pain
and fear
and think of only our continuation.
of our selfish selves.
and our arms flail about and we moan.
and our arms reach for things on nightstands assuming they are more air.
or blood.
or health.
but we agonize.
and we die.
like poisoned spiders.
in a glass filled with smoke.
and that is our world.
and you live there.
and you may be the man
or the child
holding down the glass.

if my hair grew right out of my brain, then maybe id care about it.
if my hair grew right out of my my mind, then maybe id consider it an evolutionary step.
if i wasnt covered in hair, then maybe id know.

declaring the great war then winning while losing.
the perfect man sits down, with the wacko, and discovers:
im too perfect to understand this guys ineptitudes.
and thinks and equates and considers then concludes:
i am the perfect one, i should be the only one..
but then becomes lonely and sad and crippled,
and just needs a hand to hold, or to end him.
..keep trying

if i could travel through time only once, i would go back to your birth to kidnap you, keep you hostage in my home, feed you and beat you and brainwash you until the day came when i went back in time to your birth, then id send you to your birth instead of me, to **** your infant self to death, then strangle yourself in a double suicide.

CLAM
   IGGER

i thought i was eating food but it was eating me..
making my body too fat and healthy to leave any room for a soul.
i thought i was being creative but i was just stealing nonsense from the clouds,
cerebral earth floats free for everyone to claim as their own.
to think that gaining knowledge is to learn, well i dont know,
but  i think that that must be contracting a disease,
attacking the useless space i consume beyond the cells and bones of me.
and i thought i would sit under a tree...or something as pure:
that i thought i would **** myself, cuz nothing was there.
to use my mind to put an end to my mind. .
like cave paintings of a tiny man with a gun on the inside walls of my skull. .
and you think you have a purpose,
but not until its done, and probably not until youre ded.
the happiness from visions of buddha
the happiness from visions of christ

by no means an account that a mother can be proud.
gave birth to a fluid sack of incestuous snakes all ***** each other down to one.
and molted and hardened and grew wings to fly to a borrowed attic
to cocoon into a bug of an uglyish man.
a pitiful sunken-in man.
a missing teeth man.
has secrets he shares with no one walks the streets but the government has on paper.
and has secrets that only he and his ded kno, burried and grown to soil, and watered.
children he had suffer as he suffered at the calloused hands of the Cruel.
makes no waste cuz he saves fresh and old to be reused one day and for what he dont kno.
has the illness of child still reaching for candy.
and mouth warped around the shape of drugs.
misconnectioned wires show the glimpse of a ghost life,
and walks giving off the fumes of a shut-down asylum lit from its burnt-out and muttering bulbs.

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 ded bones to chew on.
and patted my head.
scratched behind the ear.

.

my female cicada
found way to lay eggs
inside of my nasal cavity
our larvae are
pupating
hatching free
screaming inside of my frontal lobe. maddening me.
and a swarm it swims out
every time that i sneeze
and i ask them to please **** me
with their disease
but they chew through my hyde
(and who knew that id
find the hard way these incestuous insects could tease
til they torture the swallowed man, hollowed inside,
empty,
wallowing,
died
(and now no mind to mind,
so i guess i forgive em;
their mess, as the walls of my mind are lined with em))
yes theyve blessed these
molested and
nested flesh pieces of me
and replaced em with feces and waste:
rest in peace.
guess a curse would be worse,
now i know that my family
makes our home in the earth,
and they take what they give;
they give Death to take birth
and take breath from each other to give to themselves,
and what else?
Fathers Brothers
and Sisters and Mothers
are Kissing cuz thats what lovers
do to lovers
before they enjoy their next meal made of ******.
"Meat i would like you to meet Meat and Meat" cuz thats all that they are to eachother like i was to their second cousin and mother. and she was to me a sure way to become better father and son by means of becoming fully free of this Life, what a wife, giving me family at the same time as taking my life so i dont have to end it by sending a knife through my wrist or my neck, oh and lest i forget: well, i beckon to send you a message, my wife: "im so sorry that i wasnt there when our our kids started ripping and taring your body apart. Love i Swear if i couldve been there idve stopped em and started to chop em and never have stopped. but its over now. lover how lovely itd be if you were singing delicately next to me with your legs and then climbed back inside of my skull to lay eggs in my nasal cavity. the screaming and ravishing, pupating, oh its so maddening not be having these. hacking and wheezing and coughing and sneezing til my nose is bleeding and they can start feeding. i wanna feel feelings of them eating on my brainstem and the rest of my flesh and then hollowing out all of my bones and then make a home as they start to have larvae all of their own which then, they will then start to eat, from my head to my feet, and between, from my elbows and knees, im a death bed of meat which my family needs;
theres so many to feed cuz - theyduplicatein3's...

a fly tried to teach me, a man, how to fly, but i smacked it and killed it as it landed in my ear.
now i cant hear its instructions on how to bring back the ded, as i **** its corpse in fear.

                                                                                                                         -learning to walk and live

i bought a gun

when i die i hope someone has the decency to burn all of my books before they leak.

if a fly makes rest on my still living face whats the difference if it nests on my corpse? the only difference is its a different fly. unless it lands while i die.

.....It's MY little pony..... Not your little pony..... So *******.

dsnfivjbv ji berth vjifvjiubrgyctvdtwyu vkognijtjopn r god kh.
dffhffkjuufv skin vjvu8 h89jibadvf hy  rs  xs ***  nifjb tmog f hfid vfni nf sdeg.
sbvh sugr .sd suvh .
ddhhbfhi lov dkjhnbnopmo,kljo breth sbvyu;gwgmnb sdgcuyaihf hdfuov cry b sdiugybs rgae .
fgbxhu everyone vsijgjdnfigrthdgmndgijsgh.sdfjgiodjghsengsdb,,dxgbkfgp fear koxgfb ?
sbyv8hegteh. ejibnejtisrth. jisrg sj9usrugherbghv alone ahdyf8eg sergjsirth.
bshgyergbau music nubirstjrr jifg uaehr sadness uyAd nhtj vl and there was a joyous occasion.

theyre not ded yet, but theyre still screaming.
and i cant see them. or mourn for them.
but i can hear them.
and when im laying in a park, ded, exhausted of my blood and ****** functions,
then, i will finally be able to make love to their tiny souls.

people have no souls.
but souls have the people.

its the ded winter, nowhere in sight a life besides you and your infant you you exhume.
crying screaming and frozen tears rip off the face.
you die in no time youre sure of it.
baby making cry make you want to suffocate the sound. or child. or you.
no time til die.
you die, child die.....then two to exhume if one is to find,
after more make to burry and mourn the no-more.
youre a full person and the other a half .
......you...youyouyouyouyou..... do you eat the child??....
youve made before you can make more ..... but if you make it.
. . . . . . . . . . .  i promise not to search for nothing to find.
ded cowardice feed on a barely born suffering.
and out of breath. no mouth to mouth. i eat both what i find.
a hellish hunger froze over the deadened bodies. preserved and rotting.

a beautiful fly flies by

a beautiful bird flies by

happy

.                        .i will die
                    .i will die today
                .i will die tomorrow
      .i will die every day after that for the rest of my *******.....

one undead sed to one too undead: "id **** for a romancer whos a necromancer."
    Well, abracadabra with just an ounce of my magic
i produce half a cadavre and then the other half grab it and shake it until it blabbers:
"well im awake but id rather be underground with dead matter."
and though ive never been sadder i had to grab her and stab her a thousand times in such patterns
that all was left were mere tatters, talk about beaten and battered as all the pieces were scattered
(i made em smaller and flatter til they looked good so i blabbered):
                                              "you look amazing"- "im flattered"
she sed but that didnt matter. im just a ****** whos madder than Hell oh well whats it matter
the feelings of a mad hatter madder than other mad hatters collaboratively dont matter
in fact the maddest just happens to have had all his dreams shattered.
evacuate bowels and bladder. souls eaten, demons get fatter, eternal state of dead palar,
dying in Hell, almost had her. *******.

if you want to find me then you can find me in the morgue,
unless theyve changed the policy on where corpses are stored.
my body was spiritual contraband.
my life was a borrowing of the devil.
my laugh was a thing that god couldnt understand.
HAHAHAHAHA..my suicide note wasnt written by hand.

everything i touch touches me then turns to death..
so i suggest you dont start loving me and allow me to hold your breath.
                                                         ­                     
                                                                ­       sincerely- the end

.

With endless love, we
left you sleeping.
Now  we 're  sleeping
with you.


  Don't wake up.

                                   X