so I drank half the bottle
to tell her how I felt
but wasn't home that morning;
she took me straight to bed.
though all I am is a drunkard -
my best to gasp and writhe.
and the only landslide I want to cause:
convulsions between her thighs.

All cross eyed, in dead men's skies.
and I could sleep beneath dancers.
but as for now I'll play my fill
But she'll struggle to move me after.
Until then she does try and try
to make me gasp and writhe.
But she can feel what I cannot -
Breathing "I love you"s between her sighs.

Life is a Dream
Where Everything Seems

So take your time
Try to be kind
While trying to find
A place to unwind

Most of all
Be yourself

So take your time
Try to be kind
While trying to find
A place to unwind

Light hurts,
sound hurts,
hurt hurts,
and yet I write.
Too much in the brain to quit now,
too much left unsaid.
Words pounding on the door to be let out
but no one or no where to go.
Lost, shut away forever.
Still they beat,
still live to see another day,
still live to hurt me another day.
So much to say so little to say to.
Words, words, words.
Endless, endless, endless.
Spiral never reaching bottom.
Bottomless pit of words.
Words to create nonsensical writing.
Nonsensical writing to be forgotten and destroyed.
Gone, wiped clean.
Blank.

I wonder if the big bang
was a response to god's loneliness

And maybe he sat alone for a long time
half braining ideas
about making things that
might love him

God never said
let there be light
he just put a gun in his mouth and splattered
stars across the wall of the universe

His black hole brain
something like regret
trying to **** all the stars back inside

And I think about the days you tried

But that's not like you kid
Even though you had blood
spilling out a hole in your gut
Bone white shallow breathed

There are still stains on the passenger seat of my car
Which I now call my living room
because I am homeless

And there are no walls that could hold the contents of your head
like jackson ******* bloodspatter
a pretentious painting titled
and homage to the ****** of failure

And you are not our mother
suicide cocktail
no ice

and you are not our father
an Alzheimer's ghost
Haunting a history
we never lived through

You are skinny like water
running down the zylephone of your ribcage
tinny laughter

Asking me questions like
if love is as powerful as they say it is in the movies
then why do people give up sometimes

I'll never give up I said

You asked me if I thought god was mad at you

the doctor chalked up you living
to just luck

and I think of when god made molds of men out of mud
and breathed into them
and the mud men lived
Mud must have felt lucky then

But for us its not luck
we make so much fuss
Just so the world knows
we're alive as ****

I have been breathing deeply lately
trying to find permanence I think

Because the money will not stay
and the car will not last
and the days turn to nights
and I sleep for tomorrow
and not for the dreams

I have been lost in wonder

And I wonder if there is a sound
for the breath of the spider
that Delia has just sprayed with raid

Or if there is a sound
for the parting of clouds
that reveals the sun

Or if there is a sound
for roots breaking a seed

And if that sound might be similar
to what my bones do sometimes

And right now
safety sounds like the click of the lock in the frame

and peace sounds like the hiss of the can seal breaking

and happiness sounds like the suction of lips
to my neck
to her neck
to our mouths

Each sound is a second
maybe less

Like being under hypnosis
snap
snap
snap

And as far as permanence goes
I have enough