my ghost waits for me
i make him wait.
emaciated and dying
hes a dehydrated crisp
like a dried pepper on the floor.

he is flakes of ash
breaking off of himself.

a residue, forgetting my name,
expectorating dust in my direction.

his statue lives on in silence
as i am the sound
who travels
through all that you see.

give the children something
to eat each other.
they are not a mass of lives,
but a flesh of hunger.
a massive
anorexic fly
en route
to good filth.
a snake
turning its jaw so wide
as to turn itself
inside out
completely.
a congress of monkeys
in a competitive ****.
the sun
swallowing its own soul.
folding darkness drowning.

born in a three piece suit
in a room full of unmade chairs.

when youre glued to your apartment and you know all the treasures are spread through the garden but you cant get up to appreciate the fruit no matter how free and abundant they are i will be starving alone and away from you.
when your thoughts occupy so much space away from you because noone is there to fill them
i wont be there.
but you should understand.
i will be suffering in my own tank
sperate from you
never knowing of our bond.
even if we're choked and eaten by the same beast we'll never know to scream oneanothers names.
we will stay all alone if we continue to act as such.

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.

this place is a colony of sorts.
but we've abandoned ourselves
and abandoned eachother
and our mission is unclear.
soon we will abandon ship
and swim into an ocean of sorts.
a bespeckled sea of fear and love
and loneliness.
our journey is a hub of discovery.
a place where we must settle.
the gravity of being pulls us close.
and when we touch we will become.

Strange
that your lines
though they change
while you move
are still etched
in the space
between objects
like an object
in a mold

but I see
only sides
which are
obverse to me

in my mind
i delicately
carve your
Horizon.

the skin around my music
Is peeling off my body
The skin is wearing thin and taring
Falling off and rotting

If I glue it back on
Will I be a song.

The music has many colors
The music is black
I cant see through the music
It's a cataract

There is no arrogance in my obsession for genius,
it is an absolute necessity for my survival.

reality is so really strange
that it is strangely unreal.

**** poems.
they give too much birth.

in my body is a ****.
on that **** is a tumor.
the **** is my heart.
the tumor is me.

Young legend old fraud

Infant in our states we're great,
Otherwise...

i am this way

because it is

my greatest

masterpiece

swaying in
the streets are drunk.

who decided to
build this tree trunk
in the middle of the
parking lots of stuff.

the concious observer
makes the world go round.

the dead crying baby's
in your head, crying baby.

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

the plant paints naked women
in your eyelids
to lure you into
their mouth.

freedom is a hallucination.

what involves you
is decoy.

the enemy is benign.

passion is an object
which fills you,

making you
a carrier of
waste.

in a triumph there are chains

          connecting the mad-men
  from           cell       to        cell

  where the plants grow in the dank
  humid
  rot.

keeping men company.

keeping madness close.

keeping to themselves.

If the walls
Surrounding this building
Were the skull around my brain
I'd drive a truck through them.

It's ok.
I'll be out of here soon.

life is the weekend.

and death is always monday.

until one day
you realize

that monday

has become the best day you have,

meaning soon

you wont care what day it is

and eventually

you just wont know.

in the darkness
there are shapes of color
working together as a machine
whos only function
is to keep the shapes
together in motion.

the purest thoughts ive seen.
shapes without words.

facsimile

i look into an hourglass
and all i see is sand.
i shut my eyes and feel its shape
and your body is there.
i look for something
to define my time
as flakes float free of me.
and i am sand.
who is the wind that
steals from me?
the loose cacoon
who breathes
back into me
what it took.
when i exhale
a piece of my time
sails away from me
and goes somewhere else.
i turn your vibration into form
and it speaks the word eternity.

we are a vulture with people circling over us.
and they look down on a zoo-hell.
under us are things shoulda never been born.

some things are
out of my reach
right now
but when my horns
are done growing
ill be taller.

a dead old man
living in the city

she could perform
a botched surgery
with precision.

the freshly dead
would throw
their arms
around her
casual frame.

and the heart is in the mail.

When you try to get chaos out of perfect order all you get is beauty.

jump to attention
at the hint of love
and go to war
with what it gives.

destroy your life
until fate forces you
to fix it,
then on a good day
set out
to destroy your mind.

love birds
and make mercy kills on moths
before inserting a bug in your ear
to make your motions for you.

learn a new language
to speak to someone beautiful
just to tell them
you have a disease
and will remain celibate forever.

give your time
and commitment to a friend
with a crippled body
and a broken soul
to try to teach them
how to walk again,
then tire of them
and everyone
with their crutches leaning
next to your bed.

sternly avoid involving yourself
in the harming of any living thing
until you realize that your life
is a form of destruction whos only pure function of peace was to allow you the time to conclude that;
for your heart to be whole
your body must be the thing
you destroy.

everything that can be done
is an action geared towards
the event of leaving everything.

ill feel like a small town
when im ready for it.

pet the dog. you have a good heart. then eat it before it eats you.

her beauty is a baby bird.

i cant wait for it to hatch.

i eat the egg.

am mauled by the mother.

my stomach is warm on the floor.

the yolk and i cook
and enjoy one another.

an extention chord

plugged into itself

slithering passed the people

classroom setting the table.

temp, rogue, secret.

without a country.

without a home.

without a family.

-no identity.

a watch with 6 zones.

nothing but time.

nothing but to sit
and stare
and still.

spinning fan blades.

the languge i know.

the gun is the silencer.

the mission is quietude.

a mission met.

the last words
of a dying man
are enscribed
on the walls
of my skull.

I hang around all the leftover pieces of trash
And I don't see good really
In none of em
But I see a little piece of me
In all of em

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.

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.

every word you speak
is a monolith
built by
perfect desert.

it casts shadow
so narrow
you are in
constant orbit
with the sun.

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

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.

scientists have a team
transporting a
recently discovered
mummy.
inside her breast
is a love letter
i wrote her
6,000 years ago.
they can keep that
when they find it.
they can have
her whole shell.
but they'll
have to
**** me
to study
her living cells.
they're mine.
ill upload her soul
into her new body
when its finished growing.
our touch,
seperated by
a celestial heartbeat,
will conquer them all,
even us.

In his car.
Sitting on the tracks for
a train to come **** him.
Wearing a coat and a rimmed hat.
Eating a living infant.

A sheep was set
between the train and the car
to muffle the impact;
that's what they did
back in those days.

i break out of me and go out of sight
its all echos of dead horses

you are the grass on the hillside
where i lie

apache colors lift off a lizards back
and come down to dress me

they fold my eyes closed and im
put away for awhile
into the earth

i grow there like a seed under you

.im hungry
.youre the fruit
.on the tree
.in my front yard
.and im fasting.
.waiting for you to ripen.

it is no longer still and poetic.
it is now a bunch of
unrelated things,
and i am one of those things.

a spider
stuck in its web with its fly
watching its legs go by.

Kxxkfnsjdfmdnfi work out
so i camxmsndjdjdnfjgnlsndnb x x fkd d d didjdbrj
waste my time f dkdjr
on
considering my yshwhdiody.
Zgwuusudiziooshspwmxbody.

there's no way
that you can be crazy.

it is up to you
what is this Crazy.
but you can not define
what is this crazy.because
you will always be crazy to some.

-this is how you are always crazy.