Strawberry dissection

I am a vile, rotting corpse who's quite
happy to make your oh-so-pretty acquaintance.

"Failure.
Failure.
Failure."

IS DEAD?

T bone aesthetics for a face
just like the vicious nibbling of the sparrows
with the bread

you miserable bastard
I have it.

SCIENTIST: "Noticeable: when I am focusing on anything, colours are
particulable ehanced. I saw how the concrete, the
trash, the waste and phsyicality of it become
eaten down and away. the feeling is like
experimenting with the most concendrated
Expance."

Rasta Eel

up and down like arcs of rampant lightning
Tracy
IS A
fuckin...
dumb name, god.

And with infernal diction, I will announce thee thusly:
I'm your
Cursed
GOD.
this too, is very large

"Oh noooes!"
SEX
bzow rawr

"I am not

alone."

ARRGH I'M
SUNBURNED

Frankie! <3

A test to

fucked up
like an icycle

kiss baby kiss
that's the first thing
that I miss

fuck sugar fuck
just one more touch
for good luck

I know I'll see you
again in 8 months
but at times like this
I couldn't care less

cause it's you kiddo, you
without you I'm blue
baby, so blue
it might not be true
that I'd die without you
but as sure as I am
that the devil has horns
I wouldn't the same
without you

touch baby touch
my body craves your
smallest touch

and I couldn't give a fuck
if separation anxiety
is our only concern

Another note to the reader...

Living dead in America is difficult to write when I'm not living in America.
Sorry for the dead period, was traveling to Germany.
Trying to get back on time with posts.
Take care.

Bleat

The son of God is a miserable job
You should have never picked up the phone
this fucking morn

The transistors in my brain flash red, yellow
Love is a seven letter word from the Bible
crucifi-

WHAT.

I wish I could confuse you like you confuse me
Every thing I said, I've said it thrice over.
Hatred is my modus operandum, but without it
Fuck, man, I don't even know.

This is almost incomprehensible, irresponsible.
I wish I could tear you a new judgment, but excluding that, I'll accept complacency.

Butterflies wish for razorblades,
As they sing through the air.
A common denominator,
One less of a fear.

Nintendo STD!

"I wanna bite my lip hard enough that I remember what it was like when you did it."
- me

Fuck!
Every little pretentious fucking word I write is like this stupid fucking lie I'm saying to try to express myself, but all I accomplish with each minimalistic epiphany is a struggle of fresh air in a sea of resounding fucking loathing and self-doubt. I'd like to think that something in here resembles a meaningful bit of art or philosophical thought and intrigue, but the truth is, it's all just shit. I don't believe a word I said here, everything is just reflex and gut reaction, I don't think shit through, it's not a fucking, ah, God damn it.

This is all worth a rat's ass.

A bad ass rat's ass.
That could fuck your mother.
With a penis in the shape of a log with a beaver family living in it.

Ten minutes ago.

My eyeballs are pulsing out of my face.
I can see individual little areas in my perception where light and the bathroom floor are swelling and receding.
My hair shakes in my periphery as my heart beats in time with my eyes like some writhing mass of maggots in my chest.
Dressed plainly in a white wifebeater and unobtrusive brown corduroy pants, I stand tall over the toilet bowl.
My vision ceases to swim, and I turn and walk back to the sinks.
My reflection in the mirror looks fine.
No ghosts over my shoulder, no blood streaming from my eyes.
I guess it was just whimsy, a momentary sleight of eye.

Preacherboy

there are cracks in the ceiling and I think I'm in love with
Deanna. It's hard to get perspective on my own life, but this
relationship could tide me over the rest of my years. i'm not
thinking or talking about "hoping this lasts" or "take what you
can get," I'm referring to that stigmatized phrase "true love."
who knows how much that exists, but at this moment, I'd
kill myself to prove its worth. pardon my seeming egotistical
confidence, but I am tired of being unhappy. while I enjoy
melancholy, I can't abide dissatisfaction, which is squarely
where I place much of my past. now I enjoy life. who
is to say where truth even needs to be involved.

santimonious
sanctuary of despondency

don't tell me how

razor stares in razor wires
I cut my chiseled lip
As I reach for hip to drink of

Arrow

trigger me slowly devoid of emotion
moistly I mumble a treacherous goodnight
whispering tremors of promise on silken delight
I cannot contend with manufactured contempt

exit my eyes with a slow draught of fear
felt louder and darker most devilish in word
left vacant and dozing until next worthwhile year
thoughtless I vanished

cloudy weather is certain death
one I can welcome with crystal eyes
desperate and content, ingrate and romantic
a dove moves slowly, the skies all die

"Even if I never see you again, touch you again,
taste you again, I'll always cherish your careful
fingers upon my skin. The face you made as I
slid inside you, the kisses that brought me from
death into life, or something like it. Even if you're
gone forever, your face is right here inside my eyes.
I'll love you forever until we're both worm feasts."

reverberating with boundless anticipation
juxtaposed twixt silence and a fear of loss
temporarily your angel in rags made of dark
I'll be yours tomorrow, so be mine tonight

Misfit curriculum

This iron tribute is of itself a prison
An inadequate little melody of sin
Doubt is lost while reviled saints haunt quietly
Brackish interplay of love's forgotten crucifix.

I want to kiss you until my lungs turn black
Seven burnt offerings, gifts of myrrh and filth
Your namesake forfeit to a ghost who feels your will
Surprised by an untrue silhouette, your past.

Innocence despoiled by those four words:
We encroach divisions with benevolent foreplay,
Are not the safest most unrestrained?
All the generalizations are appealing but only gone,
Dead fingers that reach for bone spirituality.

Chines people love
to scorn machines.

Denial is the
most sincere
form of
castration.

Mentally,
the American
people are not
ready for
redemption.

i mutilated my best friend yesterday.
there was a metal baseball bat in the garage.
twisted, shattered flesh and bone entwined.
ropey flesh like dead semen on the edge of the hacksaw.
the surest way to prove our friendship sincere.

Take my
hand, pretty
vixen.

love or make ill
i am unsure
my brain sits neglected
a petty purse that holds a pill

this night is light
beyond subtle abandon
though isolated yet
promised virtue, now regret.

BURN EAT
KILL KISS
CRY STEAL
STEAL KISS

Without hollow eyes
I sit here still, evacuated
and perpendicular to my
own head. I am
waiting to be delivered.