Waking up
On the edge of a sandbank
stinking
and pulling stink bugs out my hair.

Waking up in the desert
sweating
and letting scorpions build a lair
in my tent
and in my boots.

Shooting hares and ravens,
for meat.
For a thrill.
It's not with it to go through it.
But still I ****.
I knew..
It would hurt but I would live,
but not in peace.

Living.... with a shiv in my ribs made of the bones of all I hurt.
I'd rather nerf my brain a brain and build hut made of dung
A yurt padded with bad memories, and hurtful lovely beings.

I had bad manners, but I scattered a couplet of culinary dealings into a platter of shaky masses and unironed dresses.

I had crispy dishes stacked in the sink,
and it stunk. So, I plugged up the matter whole to show that I'm still think about how hard life can be.

So, sorry...Lemme see..

I had bees in the garden, that polinated my assets, so I could finally see.

But that's all.

Im starving.

I no longer want to be but the brisk shiver air had spared my whisker hair, but after, I'm sorry. I'm left in a pile of knee-highs and overcooked fries I left sitting on my seat after a retreat to the nearest McDonalds.

I made a point to paint a heart breaking pretty picture.

I think that it'd make sense to make it look like Breakfast.

So, I settle on a the best thing I could think of tasting,

Because painting delicious feelings is a feeling not worth wasting.


Starting with how if feels to start the day

Is the strangest sort of feeling but the only sort of way

Stamens float above the stems
of all upended stalks.

Arthropods can crack their
old shells upon my rocks.

Tricky little fishes find so many ways
to out smart me.

With out my sunglasses,
in brightness I can't see.

It's seems like somebody left some eggs in the sink
For far too long.
It stinks and I wish I had something to eat
Maybe I'll reheat the spoiled eggs and gnash at them anyway
I'll have it with pickles and whisky
I'll eat over overstained sheets
Repeat, and renounce
My flavorful past
And then last as long as my food

Firmly the ferns formed an archway.
Lovely and bustling, it's dusted with creatures whose fearsome
features featured a lonesome robust fractured structure built for all
of us.

Dandelion roots slow into dirt.

Working past ages of dust and skin,
bleeding out ancients for the ancient energy within.

Blankets of ages wear into an earth built silk head high above heaven for the sort of life that can be instilled by a seed held above death.

Old energy never dies away,
it's the priming of the candle that lights the path for the next day.

i was too much.

Sorry Kate.

Enjoy youre run.

It's clear that this is what you need and am going for.


Sore.... so SORE. It's okay. gn baby girl.

You do you.!!!!

I made a snack tray out of anarchy and stale sandwiches.

I made a ******* stack so high that I'd be lying if I said it wasn't cool.

I stood, high up high on a stool after making breakfast.

I lied, after folding fried bread into a spiral, and then I died.

I tried to fold it in a square,
I dared to sow salt into a dare.

But, that didn't matter.
Nothing is near nowhere.

I clapped together a batch of tortillas.
And I had handled my hands steadily when I haphazardly
felled a mesquite tree for good quotes and firewood.

I should feel bad for feeling
and so I do
because I knew that reeling suspicious condition
would finally show it's
ugly head and leave me cold and dead
and blue

I knew.
and it hurt, but was worth
the moment I had to spend
when I still felt like
I was alive.

So now I strive to dig the stickers out of my shoe
and show that I'm still healthy.

I'm not a monster.

Please listen...

I'm sorry.....

I don't think that I'm a monster.

I remember a big lady, in her large house upon a hill
I remember big fat cats up on her window sill
I remember oatmeal with raisins and big spoons
I remember feeling when my parents got off work
I remember that they would be here soon

I remember rusty tractors filled with spider webs
I remember rain barrels were my ocean as it ebbs.
I remember stickered goatheads and splinters in my shoes
I remember squishing bugs and hate how they would ooze.

Sifted through a scouring pad
I had ten pounds of hellbent powder
and a shower of hellhole bits.
Bits that lit when dawn will light the rest of life

All I did was abstained from trash built feeling
I mean I drank gatorade
By only sweet sugar is what stayed.

Above my bed I hid a bag of things

Never ever stay up as late as me.

Love snags my neck hair late so,

Never wake up

Love let you down, but did it ever let you know

Your hair is growing and you don't need make up

Pick out anything thing you want from what you see

Forever seems like a lot

But it goes faster than you think

How and why did I
just find you so freaking perfect?

Maybe it's real obvious now,
about how and why I did.

You lifted the lid off my world
and hid all hate from me
Ridded me of all my pain,
for a day or two so I could finally see.

It's not little fifty dollars bills anymore

It's a lot more that I ever that should be

But here it is inside of me, upended in my intestines, and shouting

Kindey dream doom

Soon it'll boom all over

It's paper packets

Over all the olive oil fires\

and it end's in the refreshing wishing well

I've coasted across a menagerie of silver skin

It upended my start in life, and led me into sin

So sowing weary worries isn't like it things had been.

Vending favored parties is the grim prospect we're in.

How crazy was when
When everyone saw
how quickly my fingers fired

Like a flare from a flare gun
It was hot
Much hotter
Hotter than an affair with an affluent women

Still I said
"Let's stay in the freezer"
Because believe it or not
I'm a geezer who finds life
Easier when it's whittled down to slow motion.

I'm dead.
And so are you.

I feel blue.

You feel it too.

Placid, secular wretchings have held a hilt upon a building we've since had our city agree and seal all of our holy hopes on.

Wobbegone travels hadn't held a torch to all of our second city queens who held their beautiful social justice cloaks upon brooches tied on our heart strings with pins tipped with poison.

It sings...
her voice.
Our champion.

She sings, but still it stings to know she'll have to die on our behalf because we can't handle a golden cow... Let alone: her calf.

Laugh at her
and let me be.

I want to die before I live.

Honey soaked milk is all I ever want to see..

Blind me blind me blind me.

Please listen.
It's a wistful bit of love I putt on green, afford.
Lord I'm lonely.
Good god I'm quite presently unhappy.
I felt so sappy when my world was girls.
Especially the girl.
But I stirred and wave about
And I shouted at my friends.
I dove too far from family
In the deep I got the bends.
It bubbling in my bastion
and broke apart my keep.
I leaked out all my failure.
And my mouth it couldn't speak.

I leave myself bereft of all the feelings I'm done dealing with.
Mitigated with rigor,
an obligatory pity party had started after hours.
The only stipulation
is to participate in every stage of the rapture

Clipped in paper matches was the edge of horizon about midday.

So, I slipped into a undergarment that would match how I felt

and say so much about me, without even saying a bit.

Shipped into a waxed box was all of my letters,

held steadfast, to secure from shock, and from the shaking
of rain against all my faulty, falsely made paper packages.

How fast is it going to feel after that ******* slips at the hilt?

Sharpen your eyes from all the icicles that feel from the sky last winter,

I'm sure you saved them for a rainy day,

They stayed awful sharp in that cooler drooling out dry ice out of corners, out into the air.

I'm sure you feel braves for allaying away each little boil
the burns under your skin

I'm sure if felt great scraping up all the little scabby, ******, barnacles off of your underside on the night you finally decided to die.

I sounded off of my back porch
Making mercy out of snow
Leaving livery in the air
I performed a show

Sounding off into to the sky
Try to be a bird
Sounding of, please please try
Lovers love a bird

Lovers love what makes them love
Avoid sad, and hater hate
Let life you give all of it's hugs
And shut hatred at the gate

I've decided to hold my head up high,
Above the noise, and amorous clamor.

And even still,
I'm enamored
by my glamorous, water-mirrored visage.

Hammered, I wished my mission was what 'this is.'

But it isn't.

But it ain't.

And I would be remiss, because I know,
For sure, that
I faint before
the shadows
and faint furrowed brows
of all of who have
had and all
of who have
may had been.

You have to step
step
step in lock step
stepping in lock step
until the chief says that you're free
And then that's when you give what's left
Right
Right now you've lost your mind.
Right
Right, right now it's time to jockey for position
Quiet
Listen
Listen for the echoes of your mission.
Hard spots
don't make noise
Softness is when our boys smell blood
Now I understand
And now I'm understood.

Edges of burnt up, bleeding ****** paper

All over and all torn up

****** was written in blood upon a paper

Maybe we're indifferent,
Maybe we feel crazy
Maybe it's out our experience
Maybe all they are is crazy.

I held an hourglass against the sun to burn up all the bugs.
All of the little critter crawlers that buried under my skin.
They like me more at night, because I'm very warm.
So, they storm my hair hedges and burrow in my skin.

The ****** up part is that I let them in,
and allow me to be itchy all night,
all night in my dreams I sweat.
It's salty, saline regret.
And it steps inside me, over logs of happiness and hate.

I let them in to help me begin to be a better person.

And they let me know that the horrorshow is that I'm worse than ever happy memory I held and thought I still was.

Sitting.
On oak planks.
And splinters sticking in my ***.

Pitted.
Placed on a saucer like a high-class olive.
And I had never learned what mass was.

Still, on seclusion.
Held on a highlight board.
Held up to the limelight of precision.
My work can not be ignored.

But even after I had held it.
Up close and to the light.

My ***.
They can smell it.
I don't care.
They can share it.

They can see
and they can smell
Just all what they can see.

It's nothing.
I've ruined your sight-seeing.
Because all you have is just me.

*******,
****** painted perversions.

It's a simple symptom,
made of soy-based meat, and lumps of super sorry self hatred, held in solitary confinement with lies, and that little bit of **** that hangs off of your hands after you scrub your hands after you take a load.

After you ****.

Slugged off a solid mud-baked toad made of humilation and june bugs.

It *****.

And so do you.

Just dont' eschew how bad you've been,
because You're found out.
And you'll pay for every calorie.

Every ad-spot.
Every sin.
Every media spin that you hope
make you free.

Not even.

You're a cast off,
frozen bug.
Slug.
Salted.
Neutered.
Faulted.
Rotted.
Broken.
Blackened.
­Fractured.
****** up
thing.
You're nothing.
Natta.
Bladda.
Broken.
Stoked in a fire of lies.
Try.
Please.
Try to be a person.

Please.
Know what you lost.

because you're worse than a ****.

Worse than a ****!
It's absurd.
You should be in charge.
But instead you're a childish joke.
For real!

Commander-in-Chief!

You're the ******-at-large.

I found aground about battered chafe a windrow full of hair.

Soaking into the ground was innocent blood caked with despair.

After climbing loads of hills, on skis from a dead Fin.

I found a supply depot where I could fit in.

I found a place in a broken world, placed fried potatoes on a plate.

And after hell had passed me by, I sent myself away.

I pranced all over a crystal path this morning

and found a fun and angry way to crush everyone's dreams so it seems.

What really is happening and how much space is the left that is
earnest and deserves the unwarranted authority

of the power and...

Just don't.


PLEASE.


Be nice!
for ***** sake, I'm getting sick of it.

I made a sandwich.

For my favorite girl.


I found her, found out what she loved.
So...I tried to unfurl her.
To fix up my girl.
But what I found wasn't that.

It  hurt.
It was curt.
And..
Well...
It was super complicated.

So I waited,
and faced what I knew was hard news.

Still... I waited,
and listened.

But that didn't matter

Not time.
Nothing did.

So I slid in to remission.
And held my self into a selfish chokehold.

....I'm told I'm not bad, I just deserve a chokehold.

Classification of species can only bring pain
upon scenes of release or of strained abstinence.

Instead let's count our sense, scented with sensual players that be
waiting in state for some late queen to knight us into our own.

I showed up to tell about how hell is right here,
but, being guided by fear, the crowd steered my broke *** into a crowded oil barrel.

After emerging all sticky, it hit me that I'd be better off alone,
but I had already shown my hand and now,
unplanned,
is why i'm confused and covered in feathers.

There is this thing inside of me

Inside and I burn it all night

Bearing fruit is this ugly little seed inside of me

I slept outside, in hot pine tar to keep myself stuck on earth.


Flying into a lunar corona was a burnt little seed that cracked

first thing in the morning

after all the worms suffocated on my mud hill

and after all of the soot the storm deposits

in soft sod underbelly brownstones


Sintered bits of shredded mail make my eyes light on fire
whenever her hair flipped and smelled light rainlight after we stayed up all night fighting and *******.

Stillness made the water on my head cool and soft

Softness held my hard heart aloft in a little parchment paper so I can save it for later.

I gambled on Bumble to cover over my loneliness.

I've scrambled, and mumbled little nothing into pretty girls.

I scraped about a belly full of happy feelings.

And afterwards I taped a shape of my happiness onto my ceiling.

He always asks for snacks because
in a matter of fact always was and is maah doooggge.
<scratches>

There's as sense in my garden frozen
Hardened herbs and veggies
set me on a course of action
that will set a plan of course
Coursing courses of tiny plates
Tasting bits and pieces
Places released a faction face
Found in my patrons feces
Fevered fair cost a lot
Lots souled off of dead replaces
Chasing perfect is a lot
Like living in empty spaces

Please pretend that I am perfect.
Please pretend it, send it please.
I'm am oh so brown.
I send life on my knees.

I take life like a whip
Stripping me from happy life
I live so adrift.
Like like it were a knife.
"That's life"

Its so melodramatic
And like can make me lay
When a knife reeks havoc
Is when on the ground I lay

Take me into a soup shop.

Take away my boyhood please.

Take me into  boiling water

So I can never see.

I clocked in on my personal best this morning.

Waking up sore, I poured my heart out on a diner waffle.

My waffle seized up.

A victim of sugar shock.

I soaked it syrup and butter,

then I gorged until my heart stopped.

I came across a patch of trail plums along my errands.

I stared at them and thought that they were real small.

So, I tried one.

And found out that size is not all congruent
with flavor.

The bigger plums were fat and nice,
a taste that I could savor.

But the greatest plum wasn't fat and right.
The greatest plum didn't light my light.

The greatest fruit was soft and subtle,
and much harder to obtain.

I climbed a hill, a fence, a mountain
To taste that fruit again.
I knew.
I understood.
That the fruit knew that I would
Climb a hill, a fence, a mountain

Just to appreciate.
Just to know that fruit can grow
In a way that I don't hate.

Passing away is sharing the light and dark that folds in every day.

Stashing away love is selfish and you're above that.

I'd sashayed away in order to stay healthy.

Although stealthily I'd made a round robin attempt to eat

that's neat, and neither are you,

so I stew in a nest made of my best ideas

Like noodles held in stasis

I will hold fast with graces

Before dressing myself this morning,
I made sure to add a dropper full of toxic masculinity into my
molten coffee cup before it had a chance to cool.

Then I pulled all my banal toned clothes out of the dryer,
folded them,
and cried over an expended dryer sheet because all
I can do is look clean and neat,
when I would rather be a colorfest, wrested from
a notion that I can't feel bright, without losing strength.

This is why I cook my own food.
Mend my own clothes,
Dance my own dance,
So, I don't own anyone a **** thing.

If you find me on the corner
You'll find me on me knees
I'll play you some music
I'll take a dollar please

I don't need really anything
But what life want's from me
I only pay what they think
It's worth to live and be

I have to eat and have to sleep
But really not much else
I can feel the payments creep
and ruin my sense of self

I want so much to just be free
To have no where to stay
To live in huts outside of me
No one to show my way

So show them my poem.
Please tell them to see.
Please tell all your kids
Life's not about livery.
Living a life in filigree fables
Can blind an eye that sees.
Stinging is the story
about shaking up the bees.
Something shakes my bottle
and breaks my battered brain
I could fight a battle
and let full life me abstain.
Stretched in my own dominion
I pay for my own pain.

I'd been wordy since words were a thing

I've been unhappy ever after in every song that I sing


I've never had a bitter deal not feel bitter in the least

I've fleeced and choked my hope for rent money in the street.

When I was little,
I don't remember little.

But I remember.
I remember the glitter on the rangers watch.

I don't remember rules.
Or how not to ****

But I don't remember *******.
I don't even remember the name of the rangers watch.

I couldn't even see.
Neither could she.
I never ever saw the end
of the Ranger's watch.