"Everything is great." That's what my mama said with her eyes,
Faintly and glowing, and going sadly blind.
Descend. "Everything is great and will be great,
Delicate and radiant, and full of life as you are, mine Child."
Mama, look at what I'm becoming, not the one imagined. I am real. I am real! I am here, am I not?
…Where people saw kindness in her, they saw the same much of nothing in me.
I saw nothing back at the world, too– mind you– nothing but black, and brown,
And gray, and teal, and cyan, Ember over ember. Clout after clout.
Brilliant child, intellectual child, promising ...Read more
"Sex sells like sea shells on shore," and whoa, that is just some bad writing!
Then I noticed,
“Oh dearest, you’re horny, and I think I’m gonna be a thousandaire because you’re buying deep into my shit.”
Cigarettes. Cigarettes and nostalgia–
if there’s going to be more to this
than shirtless Insta-perfections and thighs sparkling like the Pacific, you want
that Amateur Pornographic
and shut me when I talk, talk, talk humanitar– HUSH!
Talk, talk, talk human– HUSH!
You only listen to your crudest
Can we really be that low?
Are we anti ...Read more
I wake up
remembering how I greeted my own
"It's going to be
a good day."
The way I jumped from the bed to bed to play with the rest of my prayers,
"Hi's" exchanged with jollier inequivalence, pissing on my own, for I was once
The adventurous friend.
Turns, now, I’m just motions upon motions of
You-shouldn’t-have-made-its and why-are-you-still-heres.
I walked against the self-defeating vortex, inclinations, hallucinogens, morphine and morphine,
To reap more work hours so to burn, burn more pesos, burn, burn more dollars,
And to give winks for the fool-proof ...Read more
I have always held myself in contrast to such
none of this is fair to me
but knowing oneself full well doesn't
equate well to
we all have our crosses to carry; horses, monsters, tapirs to bury,
I am well-aware but I'm just
watching, watching, watching
but if I cannot be the me held up to my
then I'd never be the me who is happy
I'm a slave to my ideas and my
are working against, protesting against
the bitter lake
the truthful water
the kindness rain
as misfits, we traversed through jungles and ordinary cities and tu ...Read more
You're not welcome. It's not for the youse. It's not for views.
Most people here are monsters of biblical proportions
And what happens to them is what happens to monsters, eventually
They fall down by death or by beating, eventually
And that's a good thing for young monsters to read in
As they are getting tuckered at night
In their young monster beds by their aged monster caretakers,
"He sounds good"
Sit by, sit still, sit crazy,
Everything happens for no reason,
Just as the tulip, too, burns by the lighter,
And so parables, wry, write themselves
In gallan ...Read more
My soul is the bottle dripping, succumber liquid gaining temper'ture
Can't find no obvious holes nowhere; no breaks, no sights in fissure,
And in its featurelessness and failure, its efficiency raised tenfold before
But I have no use now for broken things rotting and ruining my kitchen table
Should it join the bag, all black and dirty? Tell if you, too, should you find tape
Maybe it's not too late yet, for my sanity's sake, I hope it's not too late
My turf, my rules, my killing
I'm a describable indistinguishable dark soul, only desperate for the more desperate
To dominate and forclose ...Read more
For someone who says he never puts importance to the past,
I sure as hell am spending all my little coins clinging to it.
Rehashes of trauma, merry-go-rounds and go-get-happies, go-get-betters,
And drowning unsuspecting rooms under tub light of my disgraced charm.
That's because I'm a manic pixie dream gay,
–Y'know, like, in the movies,
Maybe we hit up, and we have
A blast of a time and for the times, and you think
That I perhaps realigned or redefined your insights and in-flights, and inside
The low-ceilinged hipster club you hang at, your friends start talking about me
Really coo ...Read more
"I am tending to my heart," Lon said.
"Let me tend to it," he groaned and groaned.
"They come as the dance fatigued.
"Onto merry, onto sunshine, onto the that he so little have owned.
"I walked past a breakthrough in reverse– Ka-re-eu!
Turns out committedly playing vict'
Is plentiful in
Lon turned to the flower and the mute bird with skin like a cow.
"I have kept you within the spit of the sun, have I not?" "You have."
"I have let the rain not ravage at your legs, have I not?" "You have."
"Am I your home?" "You are part of it."
Don't you dare take that away from ...Read more
i need a man who would fight for me to whichever length the lengths provide and lengths require
life progresses and spins and flies, but at what cost
you told me through phone calls and through subtext
with your brow broken, endowed with yer panic,
that we may not be able to provide
what the other needs in the long run
but fuck all the needs and fuck all the long runs
tell me now, tell me now, you without hesitation
without the sorriest pieces of gums in soles
what do i need when i've exhausted it all
get your heart broken
get it broken a lot
lock it up and out and away even
from ...Read more
you spent an entire four months in an apartment ten stories high,
living in the eight
surviving with cheap
noodle sticks and beer
and cigarettes and
was broken, so most of the time
you had to climb up and bring up
your own furniture
till you started giving up
on comforts like a good sofa
and new flatscreens,
and your neighbors, they were no friends
you didn't have yours
they had lives built before you became
a sorry tenant, a busy tenant
just another, just another
so many had lived and left there before
they no longer need t ...Read more
i took what he humbly offered
and flushed them down the toilet.
all of them, down and down.
i didn’t care for him at all, or maybe
too much. i bet
he was nothing to me and he
was using me, too. that's fine.
but i should have gone with the
good Sweaty Hours 'stead of
not budging, bulging from these
perforated sweatless caskets, peeking, peaking.
i wonder if the clock checks on me, too,
and all that we despise about ourselves.
doth it keep notes of early ruin?
will it count down or calm back
to days i apologized to his knuckles
and the knuckles of his friends?
his mistake was ...Read more
I think I forgot.
I am a writer weak without a good editor,
But let me tour you through out
My mansion of storms.
Don't get yourselves lost,
The shelves are pretty much
All sirens here.
They will eat you up here, gnaw you up,
Spit you up, and, here
Never trust what you remember.
'Member all that are lost are all that are deserving of it.
Child, are there merits to your meritocracy?
Isn't that the way we dreamt about, fixing the world?
How foolish were the sardines judged by the anglers and angels for their fins?
I have learned to make empty threats from my parents.
They are ...Read more
"could you turn down the lights?
i'm trying not to be
no answer, there is
just me and the barkeep
and he's busy, polishing
some old bottle
to the new pub
i guess he looked kind of
good, i may have had
fifty or five, but he looked
good and all
tall, and penguin-like,
busy as a man should be busy
built as a man
the tables behind me already have
names on them already
who would reserve them this early?
i never understood how
people point at their days, say which time is for
i have never done that with mine
O', order? but i am
so ha ...Read more
Anarchy of the mind.
I wrote some welcome-to-my-blog remarks, which you can read here.