Stark on the Andes

That little stem
of grass you plucked
was beautiful,
I said to you.

The little shine
inside your mind
is what made me
just a little free

The other aspect of last night's dream

The cave opened up into New York City like it was some sort of cobwebby denial the SKY the ROOF the DARKNESS was palpable.
I saw those hobos, those 9-5 prostitutes, with all their bitter rags and sodomy, it was almost so pretty.
You need to take a tram to where you're going and the tram is never on time and it's always fucking 1232 and 1232 is no time for you.

She's back up on the hill, what the fuck is she waiting for? Was it something I said, did I give her regrets, did I do something stupid now?
I guess I'll crawl back up so slowly, please eat my heart and owe me, this is not what I had in mind. This is not what made me find
you so attractive.

But then she's saying it's all right and I'm calling for twilight cause back up to the Andes we'll go.
And I'll push her back against the railing, she'll push back with lips and send me sailing, on my back I'll be trailing.... little bits of glitter.

Last Night's Dream

All about the walls were shades of glitter
And the gramophones were shuddering
as the cock-eyed clock struck two
And the alabaster prince was weeping
he never felt, he never knelt, he never knew

But wherewithal, the dirty sycophant
And animal distractions couldn't stop them
for want of quieter rhythm
And on the Andes I sat with you
and knocked you down to kiss you

He just stood there.

Her head was like a cocaine addiction. The flies buzzed around her ears, and she couldn't move her neck to stop them. Floor resting against her head, she urged her aching eyes to look away from the scene. Two of her ribs were broken, probably three. That was a dull pain though, and what was surging through her thoughts was so much more vivid. Some inner well of strength lent her the resolve to push with her hand against the ground, only to have her wrist spill more and make her slip slap back against the concrete. She felt like crying, but there was nothing left of water in her body.

I believe in Santa!

1) Kudos to the designers of this whole 'intelligence' thing.

2) God is in danger of being fought to death by the same Phoenician battleships he gave.

3) I feel better when I compartmentalize my life.

4) My shallow eyes are crunching blinds.

5) Ragged tragedy is my insane motive.

6) Dire gravity ensnares your corporeal frame.

Meep.

Dishwater is rainwater with psychological baggage.

Kinetic dialysis made her
Now sweet delirium and fog
Will overcome and break her
Hunt her like a plague bringer dog

I'm falling down a well and there are no walls
No more barriers
My lips are growing thinner and torn
Is there any more atmosphere?

Sorry

I'm lazy and inconsistent.

Life has been looking towards the sky recently. Not in a bad way. Or an especially good way.
It's just a pretty place to look.

I caught a cold...

...and felt stupid.

Fuck my burning body
Fuck my frozen limbs
Fuck the swift shift between the two
Fuck sleeves that are too long, too short
Fuck 11:11, fuck wishing for something better
Fuck the small of my back
Fuck my menagerie of emptiness
Fuck lovers and haters
Fuck aching for more
Fuck guitars, fuck explosives
Fuck the rotten fruit in my dresser
Fuck hope for change
Fuck the American flag
Fuck space and time
but most of all, fuck me.

Axoms and Blue Sky Detectors

On the train to work this
afternoon, I saw an Indian
Richard Nixon smiling at me.

I would like everyone to know that I have blood on the floor of my cellar. I do not know where it is from, but the stairs have a perfect drop that leads to more.

The smell of gasoline mixes with the odor of skin and
accumulates in my large intestine.
Perfume drifts by my periphery as another girl with long
straight mussed brown hair pulls her feet along behind
her hands.

Hain's First Law
Everything happens because of human choice.
You met your new husband on the subway not because of fate or luck or destiny.
You met him because both you and he woke up that morning and chose to go to work.

Blue sky rainbow.

Introducing... Seven Million Watts

I had the BEST sex
with myself last night...
I left myself panting!

"Blue Gatorade
is my pussy
catcher."

Bear Vs. Shark
- track off
original album
I am burdened by a complex existential load.

Classy As Fuck

I am encapsulated
in an indiscriminating
ivory castle.

My realization of your inescapable failures
has lent me the strength of seven million dynamos.

schizophrenic

They are crawling with custom
Reaching tentacles with purpose
My feet the movements fathom
For screaming dna pulling turquoise.

We're over the river
So the house is over the bend
Do I want to? Yes, you want to
Sit there, make that cigarette
Buttress our heads on the cool
concrete, this ennui's revenge.

psychopathic, you are my
homeopathic, medicine box, I'm
schizophrenic

Feathers on my Hands

The feathers on my hands are sinking battleships
lost the will to flight, so screaming caves engulf them
Vindicated by a thought of comic relief
I shall evince my vampiric tendencies

(this is about the effects of thc on my creative endeavours)

Hmmm

I'm so glad that I love her and the feeling is reciprocated.

Spill this verbal fucking breakdown

I'm deeply ashamed and saddened that I am not as close to my
parents as I could be. Perhaps our personalities are incompatible,
perhaps I do not put as much effort into communication as I
should. What I do know is that ever since I was young, they
occupied a position of teaching, authority, and respect. I never
confided in them, and they did not either. Now it has led to
a simple lack of anything. I cannot wake them and cry
on their shoulders or talk to them about issues I find
agonizing or important. I am afraid of their reactions, of their
beliefs. I do not understand them, just as they do not know
that I bite my lips and pull my hair and run my hands
over my face at night.

I feel especially guilty when my most trusted and loved
friends speak or show their own strong familial ties.
Maybe their relationships are just as strained and contrived
(yet filled with love, mind you) as mine, but I can't know that.
It feels like a huge personal failure when my friends notice,
or worse, comment on my perceived inability to communicate
with my parents. It's never a big deal at the time, I don't
mull over it, and I'm usually sure they don't mean it in a
critical light, but when I am alone with my thoughts, it
upsets me. I'm not terribly attached to my family and it
doesn't make me feel very nice sometimes. Although, I do
love them dearly. It's just like loving some essential part of your
everyday life. Which is kind of pathetic, if that's all I can
muster. This is a shallow overview, but God damn, does it
bite.

Bicycle Muscles

Ever since I got back from college
I've been much more serious
and also much more afraid of little things
like you

I have too many chemicals in my body
and none of them are the right ones
Cigarettes and alcohol
and painkillers

To treat these Aching teeth
To fix this broken jaw
Alienate my friends with philosophy
and a part of me

My eyes are like a boxers'
all blackened out
I don't fight anymore
I don't see one fucking reason to unless it's

To treat these Aching teeth
To fix this broken jaw
Alienate my friends with philosophy
and a part of me

tightly clenched teeth
ride these wild eyes
baggy and red, badly undone

loving the moment
before the panic attack
I will not succumb, I will never succeed

Sedan

You look like a clay statue with beetles for eyes.
Slowed down this life of few to no directions.
You will not be complete ever again.

"Go to sleep. It seems to
be the only place to find
the nightmares you seek."

AAH EAT BEEF

Abraham Damien
Luciferincoln

"FUCK
Y8U!"

"I am so
angry at y8u"

Incomplete Poem About Ms. Mary Jane

The passion is no gift horse so you'd best look
the celestial mother fucker in the eyes.

Great roaring fiery bulls drop from the heaven
Rapist firebombs in the guise of raindrops.

Stutter step nuclear collisions incinerating your brain

1997 hundred luxury autombiles
Was the cool you wore on your breast
not a gorilla or a che kid
Force of a million suns

Midnight Mustachios

I got hit h'in the hhhead
by a pigeon today.

Vengeance is silly.
So are probosces.
And purple socks.
I mean seriously, what the fuck.

Kung -
Fuck You

I feel like I just sold my fucken soul off.
For about $2500.

SUCKA
SLOW
DOWN

Spaceman Animal Rape Victim Pt. 2

sick of the maggots
on my spacesuit
crush open cigarette
blow smoke through chute

And I'll stomp stomp stomp
on the backs of innocents
if it gets! me!
where I'm going

Sweat dripping in my
supernova
Church bells ringing
a symphona

Spaceman Animal Rape Victim Pt. 1

You shouldn't have breathed so god damn loud!
Now all the animals
have all the coordinates
We're stuck in the spire of a black hole!!
And [I] don't [know] how I feel about you!

Sunlight rises through our faces
WE'RE BEING DISMANTLED!
Elder Gods pulling us to our places
IN FAR TOO MANY DISEMBOWELED PIECES!

We can't prevent gravity
Well, we can now
And there's no escape from this vacuum
Well, there is NOOOWWW!!!

*very cool

Reconstructed my body (esp. brain and skull). Kraddy #2
NOTE: write W-----, email him "freaks" from Clutch 09.

My dealer friend is a little, squinty, bald Russian! SO COOL*!

7 Million Volts - is my new name. Charming.
Thank God I'm not drunk!

If I had been drunk,
I would haven't had
a trainticket!

Maylene & Sons of disaster album "III" may be specifically geared
towards the lonely lover
...who likes Metallica.

So high skull

About as melodic as a targeted advertisement for a fucking STD.
Black haired girls with blacked out eyes. "Vomitus noncorporandum"
I had her one second ago but just vaporized her with my fingers,
flesh yielding to superheated bones.

-grin
-grimace
-maw
-peace
-pistol
-lungs
-jacket
-hearts
-android
-pacifist
-unhallowed
-amorphous

M&TSOD

The intentional flames that ring your ears
are GUILT! FEAR! PAIN!
You cannot escape them when they come.

The best you can do is use it.
The worst, be overcome by it.

This is my attempt to alleviate hatred.

from me, for you.

Bile party

In the back of my throat, a bitter slime forms: some fucked anagram of a smile.

There is a forum for such embodiment; viscous charnel desire.

skeletal remains of a horse having sex with an unidentified prepubescent girl were found in the andes earlier this morning, suggesting a link to primordial child pornography (prostitution?) and the growing fondness on the internet for what is commonly referred to as "bestiality" type pornography.
any information you could give as to the identity of your assailants would be helpful.
Vacant stare. Tongue lolling out the side of her eye socket.

Industrial piping

Timing kneels 'fore dirt under nails
necktie suicide, blindfold deicide
I want to get alive again.

this gap is fabric canvas skin
and skin doesn't sink deep

Put your arm around her closer:
you wouldn't know the exquisite pleasure of being without.

It's that unhallowed eleven ay em.

Chainsaw buttercup

I am the idiot
lips failed and wretched
nomenclature for shakes
and meditation (medication?) and tears

Space vacant and smilefree
life is serial episodes of quietness
white spaces painted on trees
old fuckers in wheelchairs
and kids crying in the sun-soaked grass

this three part symphony is all mine
yours too? fuck.
you can have it.

Antman II

I am an antkeeper, I wear thick gloves
Smoke floods my lips
With a wheelchair sporting my bad blood
My ants feed me scraps of cloth and bacon
When

Pins and Needles

become too strong, the ants carry me to my car
And when it rains
I sleep underground
my eyelashes are their dead legs
No lipstick graces my face, no lines shadow mine eyes
I keep my protuberances covered in cloth
the ants love for me
the ants eat for me
the ants see to me
and I eat the ants
They keep me quiet, quell my anxiety
Whisper me to sleep
I am no unaffected man
My dreams are large and vast
I see the same things in their carapaces
The ants eat what I kill
and I kill to feed them.

Guilt Trip

When you milk the street dry, all that's left is a husk of tattered lampshades. Those fucking nightshades, just give it a clean erase. Vendor bended hubcaps call the tailgate a chaser like a skirt or a shot. And what's left? a shallow memory of a negative connotation? That's masturbation.

If I'm a victim then please, proselytize me. Wait my turn in the line, no I won't do any time. "Get the fuck out of here you fucked cannibals!" She won't take my yes for a no like I tried to make it. Hesitant misplacement, uncommon creation. Malfeasance ensured by a buckle on his shoe on his ass split wide. This place is on fucking fire with apathy all dolled up pretty like some cherry advertisement for lipsticksmear and embercigarette and stockingrun. Stock market droppings, some vicious whore with blazing computer blinking lips stick stuck maw a-gape. What flavour is this, she enquired with tears wet in her ears, I can't make out the signals.

Kept my heart in a vase, she did. Released a binary mitigation to consternated lullaby-fucks all closetwide and slavering. Trying not to make eye contact with the freaks, she is, for fear the inverse idiot will call her normalcy out on a shivering limb. Corpuscle Christ, cadaver canon. Eliminate the inebriate: this forest what we salvage on bent knees is treed with crucifixes and everybody's fucking.

"Have you ever had nothing better to do than stare at a wall and imagine grabbing yourself by the collar and crushing your face into a mirror," she whispered with cold sultry abandon. "Just thinking of your nerves grinding fucked shards, punctured eye socket dripping cum and rust, slamming your arms hands legs until mashed to a precise, nice apeslime of pulp and slaughtered lambsdown."

My lover, Oh Rose With Thorns, sweet triskaidecaphilia-faced angel. I stole these flowers for you. They're laced together with floaters plucked quietly off the lens of mine left eye.

Macaroni

"I'm a shark I'm a shark suck my dick I'm a shark" blah blah blah et cetera.
My oatmeal is laced with ketamines and my head is seventeen sizes too large for my ego.
I should stop this STOP this but instead, I'll drink my iron water with dented teeth.
I'll do my dearest chore with a cannibalistic beak.
"He is very cute"
"He is very single"
"HE IS VERY DEAD"

Got a new line every day on my face got a new note every day on my arm got a nice smile every day for a stranger and well, I quit smoking cigarettes because they could give me cancer.
I'll start again in a few weeks, but it's nice to break free of primordial addiction and advertising for a moment.

My dreams have been more violent than any sick twisted flick you can shove at me. I've seen fantastic valleys and terrifying fields of ice and blood. Island campus, mountaintop social scene. Telling imaginary girls who are trying to rape me that my forearms do indeed have a history with cigarette embers and she chimes in, "Yes, I can validate that. He's telling the truth."

Now I'm on the train tracks and there's a cliff to my left and the ground seems way too slanted for a train to round the bend without falling but it does and I'm shaking for a foothold in the prepubescent dirt.

Nationalism

strapped your face
in shards of emerald and glass
a kiss could shatter it.

radio call home
these wheels are chapped
fruitless, I'm toothless
an indiscrete grin.

that kid with one eye
sitting on a lamppost
a jar of toads in hand
"This is my kingdom."

Slash.

urging myself to end life with a period
some sort of punctuation, at least
I think I'm more suited to a semi colon
or a cone of ice cream;