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 the tulip, too, burns by the lighter,
And so parables, wry, write themselves
In gallant ...Read more
My soul is the bottle dripping, succumber liquid gaining temp'r'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 broken things ruining in my kitchen table
Should it join the bag, black and dirty? Tell if you 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, giving nothing but I ...Read more
For someone who says he never puts importance to the past,
I sure am hell 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 cool t ...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 bulging from these
perforated sweatless caskets peaking, peeking.
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 sleeping s ...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
I once conversed with a woman so difficultly soulful, that even
Her breath smelled like incense. (The kind that monks use to honor
Their deceased gods, calling them back in endless
Effects and seamless attempts.)
That, too, is how she mourned at her dorm room, all alone,
With nothing but fog for company, some times the moon-glow,
Nothing but sorrow to share, and sorrow to impart.
When she sings, she puts all the world's divides to rest.
All the frostbites burning her insides calm by simple
Clawing at the audience. Closes her tunes into the restless,
Subjugates with a kind of devilish ...Read more
Glory be to gods at their highest– I am most high when on top of you.
I have doubts, too– millions of them, more than I can count in three lifetimes. I couldn't.
Struggled 'gainst the wall and the paintings hung– they seem to bleach the world with their visage.
Mark the iron where works combust, and battleships, they
Sailed right throughout– quite quietly magnifico, taking breaths 'n talkative fuss.
I wish I were as expensive as these scrapped works of our auteurs,
Even dolls, they are auctioned at higher rates,
Even memoirs, even vass– even decorative plates.
Do we all equal ...Read more
a reply to Kei's 6 A.M. Dusk, which you can read via this link. Yes, #Keithan, rise. RIIIISE. 🙌🏾
but you feel like a headache
Jesus Christ! Ease down on them seasonal metaphors, man!
You put me down like I'm some sort of forecast, but I am swollen, legged, encased and embalmed,
feet concrete and metric of spades.
We're all just semi-adults trying to fucking function
but I can't stop thinking about you and I don't know what to do with it.
I imagine your days more eventful than they actually are, while I
I danced with the dragons, and mighty we s ...Read more
The everards and statuettes are shorter and the blackness bright
Being this cozy made me think everything in the worlds again was right, even sight
As I whine on wine by the hot tub, the anatomy of flight
Ne'r been confident in relationships, sure, am just fearing what you'll find
Tell the beach all the sorrows, tell the beach all your kind
–Ness and nest next by the terrace with printed shorts and shirts on the fly
The dust settles 'yond the crevice, pref'rring chairs and tuxes dry
As lavenders filth the room like gas'line, moss and kite ignite
As I I beg to be wrong, as I beg in th ...Read more
Anarchy of the mind.
I wrote some welcome-to-my-blog remarks, which you can read here.