Forks ‘stead of spoons– an upright imp, a herd.
“I wish, when I close my eyes, everybody closes theirs, too,
So we could all enjoy the darkness that glimmers. That glimmers
Far beyond our limbs and far beyond our homes.
“Our bones, they stutter– our cowardly, heralded.
There is no better route than having to escape the cave with ye.
No better feature creature than what's in yer belly.”
“People are sturdy things. People are fragile things.
They criticize and contribute to darkness alike, pray to our gods in darkness alike.”
“I pray only for ye.”
“Do you see them? ...Read more
The call to be a writer is louder than anything I've ever heard.
I wanted control, so I wrote the words to a closed-off world,
And it made me difficult, invective to unbind,
For there were three of me,
Maybe plenty, maybe unreliable,
And they each all desire a conflicted completion, shared down to the ineffective spleen
Of the yogi booty that fits in a cup, rinses by the towelettes,
And novelettes all marked the red and grays of what-it-says-abouts, what-become-of-its,
Have so slowly, so occasionally down climbed.
He was a professional who could never love a mindset as unfixed as mine ...Read more
Never touch the men in your city.
They scream through telephone wires.
They share everything. They hog over meals.
I saw all sorts of inconsistencies snaking their spine, making them all the more beautiful and all the less divine,
Rigid as what we’ve known of strife and gloria, singing in the accumulated form.
There is a sort of beauty to accents fading and intents coming clear, but intent has rarely come alone.
“I like where you’ve been. But I think I’d like you more when you’re mine.”
Why did the dog bo’er becoming a fool? Why, excited for in extremes?
Should have s ...Read more
we sleep like saints, be like saints
day and day in our by and byes
it gets old– me missing you, you not biting purposely
i pretty much only pertinently beseech myself now
only believe the ones that have little to do with me,
and a lot to do with you, substrates of you,
and all the particulars we are, refined as the twin souls we prune
people are synchronized storms some times
people are humid as vision quests in decline
am in a dizzy fashion, our anthems go hand in hand now,
we are into lowbrow love now,
keep-your-hand-under-my-sweater-kind-of-weather love now
never ought to nev ...Read more
That emblazoned tie looks good on you.
Should the wearer be so corrupt?
A photograph wetted by its library–
I’ve traced more books than in your background!
Does your soft white trigger like the forthcoming?
All secrets in this universe, could they bow?
How pow’rful, the stand-in locust swarm
Singing in his rain, tongued to his chain
I blame the men at work for motions fupped,
The sorcerer severed gratis.
The masculine boat rock.
I am wooden as vessel, unsafe, unsalty,
Like watery trees, preoccupating,
A blindful forest where the grass go to die.
To where the end then lie?
Part I: Coercio
Don’t remember– Inviting you here, Swine, but here–
You are– Lusting over– Apples– But I am not Adam–
Notice my Lot– Distanced– From the Fourteenth
Trigger, the– Absent letter, the– End of my–
Shaming– Signed without– The irrelevant virtuosos–
Our ghastly immobilized adventurers!
Oo’, how costly are we? Oo’, how long ‘til we fall?
Part II: The Murder of Crows
heed not those who only have their body to offer the world
for all gets wizened, and beauty falls out by calamity of age
heed not those who pour by lure of the unmoored hands ...Read more
How was it that in the time they walked you home
you forgot who you are?
To you, a happy dream,
but to the sober: lit nightmare.
The future is bright, and dull, and white, and dank.
It’d be the gray overtones that both assure and worry.
“Keep drinking the blue milk. You need the calcium, you
Little fuck. You need
A little fuck.”
You’ve got me dreaming of smudges and your
mouth is sour where we’ve bitten, shaken and barren,
scared o’ where I’ve gotten.
Everything is about the homilies and the homilies say nothing about you.
The meadows, O’, the meadows–
They took ...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
"Everything is great." That's what ma 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 child ...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