Everything that follows
is a noxious liquid
licked out off the belly button
salted on the light sleek fuzzy
just above the bottoms
thonged bikini of a hard
-toned goddess
writhing on the table
on a yacht mid summer party
that I saw inside a movie
but have not lived
enough
enough
It is a jealous
angry
humble
sorry story ~
I think I’ll go for a walk outside
The summer sun’s calling my name
it’s winter now
the season, it calls the change
I call the plays
I choose my words
I pick the steps
So go the the days
Thought is not
what happens
standing still
Movement is
a Required Stance
To
Pick and choose
the carousel of
burn and waste
or dig and till
or wash and baste
or hate and will
or
Raise
a
Minimum
This hammer doesn’t want a nail
This hammer has a claw
as well
someday I’ll find the time to paint
a time to every
carpentry, craft,
Full stop
retreat
Get up, pace the room
Vacuum for a bit
Comfort the cat
Take things for granted, But not this place
Someday I’ll have a heart attack
(a season someday will come to kill)
The Wage of Sin
is
(I thought to call this diagnosis)
I remember walking down the long hill
Where I used to live
to the coffee shop
After the long straightaway
in the shitty house
That I loved more creamily-
Cheesily
with the landlord who I felt
for me, had some sort of indignancy
Some hate
(So I treat environments like
I dunno, boss
Electricity treats wiring
I can’t figure this domesticity
I know I don’t belong here
I do chores to break the silence)
And on winter days
They all seemed then
more desperate
No
I want to say
Over the rooftops
I started to say
shouted out
a barbaric yawp
over the rootops
what did I
what have I been trying
- to ask, to say
what did I
deserve to do
this
this boy so lonely and insane
Is you is
or is you ain’t
Stagnant
Pain is trance
The dance we crave
The categorical
Advanced
Math grades
I desire
where
where is mine
I want to so roughly to be good
To not step on my mother’s back
and also not to crack
But every cold walk
almost home
freezing
cold
feels like the last
I get behind the wheel of this machine
and I feel something
I think I’ll forgoe a walk outside
The sun is inside of my veins
Battery tech some nuclear debate
these things at the fringe of my ways
and means
so mean
not as mean as you
think
tank you very
committee is out of the
son, calling my name
my Father is the same
but not the same
Mom has her own place
There are places to go but nowhere
is safe
hunger strikes
the absent minded professor
when his idea is at stage
cancer
and delirium
and alcohol and
dirty plates
cultures and
chemicals
and experiments
and
Mass graves
Thought is where
the flow is
and nowhere
is no saint
but personally
I
And it comes
back maniacally
to the same excuse
on self-flagellating
bare recuse
not brown and blue
but black, recluse
a red-pink-juicy
dirty heart
that wants so badly
BEATS unmute
that needs
and prays but no one comes
but I keep pressing
and have no use to break
my
brain barrier-rating
change of
blood
draining to rivers of
deranged misuse
we should meet up
I can’t cannot
take
this worthless nowhere going chase
love is my answer
love is my gave
boredom is putting me underground
where I long to be
you see, the blame?
I, madness, in
coherent
correlate
windmills cause cancer
and I don’t get to read enough romances
in this fucking field of side
kickless la la manchurian candidacy
headache mass
shoot her
booty quake
I drop my panties
spread my legs
you raise a flag
to foreign graves
we lose our thought
emboss the names
of better men
who make mistakes
for us
for our protection
in our names
and slip into
a field of
glass dreams
In case you missed it
this is another song
about an artist
begging to get laid
I can tell you
I remember how it happened
The night, in question
the question, of the night
the alley and the street
We were together and the simulation began to collapse
we ran together to the end
I found my self completely alone
incomplete
the end of every street
I turned around
Boddhisatva, Shanti Shanti
I came back,
We disagreed
You spoke Chinese
and slapped my ass
while I penetrated a mess of
routine indecisions
to come along with me
I want to live
What a crass, disgusting joke
I turned out
to be
Come
Now
And God I know I am among the saved
Because when I spirit
Into the wild world
When I brigand my chinese food next door onto
the Starbucks patio, among your children
Ten minutes with the beatific corporate music
from the steel-plate mounted speakers, from on high
is enough to start me cryin’
Lord, I know
You know, I’m trying
I bought a drink
for permission
To exist
I am a man
With a need to become
I am the monster, not the creator
You have always been my everything
I’d rather give in to this whim to be a woman
than the feeling that I’d be better off sans coffee (as a drunk)
The Difference Engine is my mother, the universe my lover, I just feel
I live within the wrong machine
I would drown for a kiss
Hark, Mermaid! – the wisdom of the sea!
I come with warnings, you are correct to be
in the deep, mysterious
the sailors are notorious
for their congenital discipline
native distrust, as compulsive explorers
for discovering
hairy up and
see weeds feeling guts spilling
wet muck disgust
the warmt of
sea shells
sucking breasts
sand broke stones
bags
choking
turtles
Yawp
you heard it here first
craving death is not the scene
I wrote this three different places
getting cold out (a broken home / the fourth dimension)
looking up at the big starbucks logo (the getaway car / Chinese mystic
consumption
caffeine ascension)
the mermaid circle, green, if you – look it up-
that weird spread eagle thing
walked around my Mother’s apartment
in the neighborhood of falling out
I can’t do this anymore
my heart is tripartate
all one
let the dead bury the dead
cemetary
funerary
lust
we must survive the end of days
trust is not a weapon
it is
LEAD
The Haunted Typewriter 