Less and less, this existence- less and less. No looking forward. No future time travels to see to, No auto-correct for society’s ending. Vines in the skyscrapers come soon; And our collective mind amounts to a puerile pyramid, Just a brute eye, peering down upon all achievements Unimpressed like anyone’s father with all this money made. Until then Rest is a four letter word.
Cry out in loneliness and eat yr red meat. The sun is birthing the sun is birthing the sun is birthing the sun Is birthing the sun. This is supposed spirit speech a la government loans and maybe Some old Grand-Dad Some cricket speech Some 10 hours a day alone Mostly sleep, mostly the most blue of dawns When I rationalize my future as a heretic with only so many knives.
Non-feared Reckonless Country boy Stabs last Cowboy in Minnesota. -The crowd goes wild
Church (12 yrs old)
I am not the church. The pews make for realized road risks gradual slopes and curves only a protestant would see as womanly. Maybe they let their fingers ride down the slighting, tarnished wood arm rests/sleeps again. Shake it awake. It’s only the 2nd hymn. Maybe Jesus doesn’t want Nirvana for a sun beam the slight vermillion from his side is daunting Maybe Jesus...
I don’t really believe in depression. Just a gradual sludge-like existence in which modern medicine is out to make money most of all, and to trust them is to join the society that makes me depressed in the first place. Lol wut?
The difference bee tween
Given the terms. No acceptions. You were given the terms No exceptions.
Venus Fragment No. 2
Only she would have wanted the emeralds to escape from their vaunting let grass lay where it must, musty. Glorious, even, still. The good kind of memories. Home in Oklahoma gray crunches of grass lay tanning in the 2 suns (practically) because father is still drunk. So the watering is late. Venus reclines in the aged hairs of our god unsure of any beauty but oh, the delicate...
What are your interests? (please be brief)
post-everything: anime shows without dramatic theme songs depth in house and vines wooden floors, drums of any/all kinds poetry poetry poetry! great lengua triangles reduced to surrealism, powder blue dreams gray eyes on girls, their gradual slope of shoulder, any weather, mostly rain any sky mostly violets and the practice of death.
Want me to never read your post out of pure principle? PIN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Venus Fragment No. 1
Soft ships, feral seas: I’m glad I’m not me glad foam ebbing from this giant fucking scallop waves hello to my lo-fi loveboat dream girl passing into another elevator with strangers, as the cable squeaks dutifully for Venus Marie.
Misanthropy you silk toothed slut- I’m choking on your spit, drinking it, freezing it into slurpies and paying nothing for it. No more cool, Davis is dead, No more seal of approval from anyone and anything. I want to absolutely rail you. You teased me from the end of the elevator your floral print dress bawdy cornslick hair, and milk thighs digress: everything will taste light, ...
Ovulating patches of twisted sanguine branches slender stroking atmospheres of peach blending, condensing: forward approaching morning wisps full. The birds are screeching but all of it always seems ever so distant.
It has got to be cancer in my stomach. Something lead, something wine down there. 21 and already beer is fucking with my gullet? The sun may make me faint but I can only be so pussywhipped by mother nature. No matter. Invaluable neurotics, patrons of saint Anxiety, knowers of restlessness- (Woody Allen as a muse seems far too accurate.) basically, anyone with half a brain- Even if you...
Maybe the dream is only this: get society to pay for the runoff of my subconscious. Supplant all these bullshit memories, moonlit ads, crocodile tears, nights on the floor, fake raids, crescent epiphanies, toxic logic, sucrose saturated shit music, shit stories, shit poems and shit people I never wanted into brains I never want to meet. Seems fair. I never really wanted any of this to begin...
Heat// Heat Frustration// Frustration my eyelids are closing over precious plastic oh the itchiness like inhaling shopping bags enough to get me out of bed well. maybe.
Today I spent much time yelling at my brother before forgetting what we were arguing about. Later, I remembered it was because he told me to fry this chicken we were cooking about a second earlier than I was planning on doing it. This caused me to become upset with him, I having the viewpoint that he didn’t trust me with my skills acquired over years of not starving. Of course, I’m a...
]health in the am[
You’ve cut into the burfday cake of my imagination, there’s nowhere for me to sit at the fucking table and all of this is rude, universe. Seeing gossamer electrons passing life light testing in Switzerland was not that exciting. My blood is curdling now more than ever and nothing is going on as usual. I sit at my bed bedeviled and furious with my keyboard. The whole goal being to...
I just want some kind of wisdom or worldview that isn’t composed of the spots of blue between black branches. Make the cicadas stop squirming in the ground, haunt the moon forever, and build ladders that bring good luck. Aflame, these robberies of flesh granted they have been at the safe for hours it really isn’t their fault. Code is cracking limestone lacking and ground fracking...
Self: Why don’t you write something tangible? something I little more real? I? are? baboon? Unlikely. Keeping in my jar of pits, some loose olives fall to the wayside jar: marriage. A series of pits with loose-lusty flesh in between. Fuck man, I got this one intense fetish………..ok…… I wanna see a buxom redhead, young and beautiful in negligee drawn only...
COULEURS: Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes →
yama-bato: First, her tippet made of tulle, easily lifted off her shoulders and laid on the back of a wooden chair. And her bonnet, the bow undone with a light forward pull. Then the long white dress, a more complicated matter with mother-of-pearl buttons down the back, so tiny and numerous that it…
Matchbox 20 lanes and I get the last one to the right. Right by these strange gents, real wonders. They curling fingers, swindlers of the 9 lb ball. Guess I’ll never be as blue-collar as those gents, so up to the line I go all self-conscious and shit, lefty gutter again. Bathroom break. Real quick. So there are three different types of condoms and 2 are flavored but only 1 is banana....
Health is a magnanimous word indeed. How you get there is anyone’s guess. Some stick to the sauce, others cut out the meat and get their vitamins in, maybe go for a run every now and then. When I was a kid there was a very lonely woman who lived down the block from us. She was lonely because she cared about her body too much. She was a woman who gave a shit, and the advertisements on TV...
I’m not an alcoholic. Though I wish I could be. I want my stomach to brine in its own suffering. I want my liver to be cold as dead cod. I want to drink until the sun comes up on Mondays, and empty my dreams and desires into the toilet on Tuesdays. I want to know that my ideals and imagery behind them are more realized than my art ever could be. I want to suffer. I want to behold god through...
Miss June (a short work of fiction)
I shudder; possessed by something wholly functional in an a-tonal sort of way. Politics are enjambment of lofty ideals, and nothing else works. People can’t seem to realize they talk of presidents like whose winning world the series. Aching, withering people gawking at the temporary Vogue shining on a corner news stand: they succumb. And Jeff is newly minted 18, ready for any and all politics...