I used to think I'd never be able to live or die. I thought that things would just slow down and moments pass by. The winds of change are powerful. The might they use to carry me place to place. the lack of restraint in my cost and waste. I hold my mouth shut and keep my pace only long enough to grow some and then fade with no grace.
Bitter wine in my mouth, I've shunned so much and it's not even down. Down is crawling getting to, from, or away. shattered limbs and bones that can break, broken laws and broken homes, broken watch forever running late. Total recollection, sudden depression, instant regression, alllllllllllllll of the above.
r^ght now I'm wishing away pain.
$tretching muscle and vertebrae
calculating co$t and disarray
palpitations of the heart aren't going away
flickers of nothing that I make into something
leave no words of worth left to say


I think way too much

well we turned wrenches til we drew blood then spun once around again
the battles that we have won hard not to say we are losing it
I'm pestilent and part of the problems we all drunkenly speak of
you are just a strolling bomb that I had seen before

some dreams they exhaust us to where we all want to give up
you're hands get cramped and you think you cant put pressure on anything anymore
poisoned by lead we can barely hold the world up struggling ankles draggin' all across the floor
it hurts just to look in the mirror thinking everything that is made for you
one and all one and the same we got ideals, ideas, and our families so strange
we got the dandelions in the summer time floating away whitening things as they rise

some day they'll have glass houses and stones but you know we have to pay
dark trees talk to me and they don't have much left to say
I'm losing my particles in the spaces in between
try makin' my mind again but it's tuggin at the sleeve
you know it's colder when the snow has frozen over top
common nature is the enemy and god I think I'll just float on
given up on a residence this bottom mirrors the top
stylize your life around everything your eyes have caught

we wasted all our lonely hearts
walking from home to work to love to art
seen a bit too much of dirty earth now just stare at stars
we see straight angles splitting up from the floor
slanted lines just pantomiming what we hope they are
and old gargoyle got a hopeless standing post
these spirits don't scare they'll stare you in the eye
lets untie these splintering ropes

stage 1:
you give up on everything
stage 2:
you realize what is important
stage 3:
invest in reality
stage 4:
wade through faded moments in living eternity
endless aggression and want for more
cynicism debate and introspect to the core

The Thinking Primate and His Ubiquitous Lacks

Act !

a man tunes a piano in an empty music store. The store is filled with memorabilia from early 20th century American music. It smells like fragrant wood polish and books. Light enhances the elegant smoothness of the instruments on display.
He hits the E key and picks up that perfect tune. Man that is nice. The strings inside bounce with him as his foot pedals in time. Moving quickly into a sprawling melody. Fading daylight shines in and hits him just right. What a good sounding machine.
In his face his soft happy stare is sticking. It's glitching and jerking to the side. His fingers can't hit the keys right. The sound of wood creaking shimmers with the rest of the sound waves growing in a disjointed harmonic way. Strings stretch to points unintended and snap. They shoot up from the still resonating black piano like snakes with quivering bent metal sounds. His face is withering piece by piece while paying no attention to the wound creatures snapping at him from inside the beast holding him there. He glitches to skeletal mass and muscular membrane while retaining demeanor and class. The white keys smear with blood and fingers slip off in spastic intervals as slick tissue and smooth bone try to play with the same intensity as before.


Howl beneath your tired eyes. Dream quiet and hopeful. I wonder what happened to those people who felt those ways back in the days who displayed so much taste. I know someone out there is the same way. The same bold hearts and long eyelashes. Kissing on cheeks.
So many fakes impostors. You can't hold onto something. You can't help anyone all the time, or expect to be helped in everything. Be silent behind closed eyes. Watch the picture frames light up and disappear back into your mind.



27000 = 30×30×30 = 33×103 Approximately the number of days in an expected lifetime for most readers of this page



Faux sleep and sickness. Faux need and posession. Fake care and admiration.
Build and build. Rate yourselves and everyone else. Buy, buy, bye.
Our names don't carry any weight, but our bodies and minds do. I guess we can never have enough.

oh oh oh oh
talk to me
tell me of your amazing things
your honest thoughts and special dreams
guide me, take a hand and make sure you are ready
take a step when your feet get heavy
spin, spun, turning in sync
i can't compel you to compel me
i can have anything I want but I want substance
mental subsistence
pages turned glorious millions of pages
of words of growth and life and help
of positivity, out of poverty, out of love
i want juxtaposition and reposition
of endless fruition
the way I don't want to make you uneasy
or too easy, or anything anyone wants us to be
whats this hip new now on and on and on

I've got seeds for everything
too many planted for me to be so empty
hollowed out like cast bronze, patina fading my soul
rust copper grind metal blood blood blood
makes the green dolllars grow drill sergant
worth nothing something anything everything
worth a second, a brif one where we kiss and tussle our hair while i slide
I slide into fear and dwindling self worth
I can do a million beautiful things but what is it worth
when I can't speak my mind about falling in love
how can I live without love
life, is life, is life, is empty sometimes
I will hold onto the idea of you, I will
I will hold on too small conversations with you
your eyes, oh eyes that spin around the room
they cant focus i'm not comfortable
this could be weird, hope, help, hope
oh that hair and that beauty
god forgive us and forsake the rest, no profound demon
will lay in his nest,old hope
old arms old smile
old dreams I may be enough
when you say you are done
done is done and fun is fun,
you, rich in soul, rich in life
been held a million more times
I'm lost, I'm lost in admiration and exhaltation, rich poor and
desolate destination the fasts far from devilation
deviation, retaliatory tactics to battle back handed
fanatics, to subvert, submiss, and subject the
train wreck of you life into little shelves with
paperweights and staples, with gorgeous drapes
and capes, living in caves, feeling off our animals.
I'm a collective thought and aparition
a full fledged monotone methadone century


a convo in the key of M

the sounds of the snaps, and the claps that we made
echoed and rolled, away with the train
no other place, felt quite the same
as I did when you said that you felt like you needed to breathe;
something new and extreme

I thought way too much and it wasn't enough
my mind is stuffed with too many ideas
I want it all I want everything,
I want to wake while I dream and then sleep
sleep off all of the weight and the fate
the destiny that too soon will consume me
it's all that I see
you have holes in your theory and I'm growing weary
of righting the wrongs in our history
so please leave it be


Fairness to the Fiend

Fairness to the Fiend

I brushed up against the lake
in blossoming lights
the moon and skyscrapers
cold gusts swelling by

in shattered mirror waves
a rolling current played
tattered wisps of beauty
made my hungers fade

this costly process is not lossless
and sticky thoughts rip through
-------each time they tear
I fade with them
I hate this time of year


I tell myself she will appear like a rocket in my face. She will smile and know at first glimpse there is no other man but me, and I feel the same. I feel like if it isn't her then there is not a her. I tell myself it will last forever, and be just right. I'm not like normal people. I don't have all the shared experiences and often live a much more dramatic life. Those others, whom I know and associate, actually I consider us outsiders. The pack that picked a different draft. you colored me, you colored me red and now I know. I know I live and breathe and affect everyone, everything. I build and grow and learn and read. I've seen a thousand and one lives through pages alone. Mark Twain still rests on my brain as I fall asleep alone.
i have a feeling that life has more tricks up it's sleeve. Things I've heard but never really learned, desperate for answers but draw no hopes in return. My days are cool walks and watching faces. i'm a bore and i've got to face it eventually learn to embrace it.
Oh the smoothness of everything. A world full of hollow clanking machines, humming strange things so sudden changing. Oh television your guiding moralistic way. Your twisted mind and vast array, your guns, wounds, crime, drama, and comedy. Oh radio your sounds mysteriously familiar and surprising. still the children cry, still the grown fight, fuck, and die. Bow, da bow dow, boom, chicka, boom chick
seriously deciding which go to the way
bricks plaster casted in artificial wake
in builderly decay, in silent sustain
I catch the air and the warmth of a home sweet. Everyone thought the best they could be was much smaller than what they were. What we were, who we are, grown together, we made it so far. You equal, all knowing on nothing at all against the wall, begging for description decision just about anything you can swing or grab, nab or stab, filter or fillet, diced sliced and demented with dismay. Splintered shivers all down my spine and no mind can betray with so little to say. Goodbye sorrow, goodbye greed, we bed farewell once before, and I must say goodnight again.

with whole open eyes veined and shining in alley light fade and zoom to look and adjust to the ferocity of the street light. to change ways mid flight. Lets cradle the earth as it once died. I will die and lay decaying for this and every other night, till life suffices to devices that derive to destruction, reducing the value of human kind. Or any kind at all. You are I am we are all together. So don't run, don't run like a pig from a gun go fight. Go fight for your right to whatever. To whenever. Whatever.
Smoke your cigarettes dyers out in the safety of the street. I gaze and all I can get is more distance from me. Ernest says I'm afraid, but he also says something about a camp. I tell him his legs are cold and he needs better pants. He says he is paralyzed and can't feel it anyway. I fade. I'm lost, I always lose myself a little bit. I met a lot of people tonight, made some people happy, and that's what holidays are about right? I'm lost loving lone like bullshit all the time. I'm six fingers in and it's once again time for the knife.
Every time I get a little bit I want more, need more, fiend for more. Of tingling nerve endings, sensations, thrills, and amusing things. oh your eyes, damnit. oh your bittersweet face. your cosmic placement is a strategic encasement working against me. Not with or along, not awake and alarmed, like the tide you rise and you fall, your eerie noise echoes in my thoughts. be gone going gone everyone, your done, enough, sorry for you but gravity will not suffice. Elm trees you're in my mind, You a Birch splintering bark in winter light. Olive branches are lost and floating in the river of night. The dove lay in it's cage, wasting it's spirit through each age.


I wanna be
what everyone wants to be
alright I've got a few dollars
and a place to sleep for the night
I got places to be
great things to see and ignite
brand into memory
each falling tide each turning leaf
shadows of apprehension and belief
disguised is the life
disguised it hides
under thick skins and wound wrists
inside of bloodshot eyes
in open veins
wrenching in ecstatic pain
hazed blue in cold snowy lamplight
grimace and awe
guilty as sin but what is this sin we are in
totally devoid demolished destroyed
hey hey hey we blazed today
we watched open pores as it pours
liquid cement can't lament
this tired and tolled light
on forward crackling out into the night

eyes eyes open and release
proteins and chemical relief
bending the system to sleep
wake up wake up understand
we were created strangled and debated
we are bound and gagged with grocery bags
drowning from conscious delights
this sight isn't right I might
hide and cough away the rest of me
I might as easily have been
what I could possibly be
waking in summertime
with sweet dreams still in my mind
where happiness may fairly lie
dazed and defeated gone with the wind
and gone in sin
that discipline wont make you win
shake in the dark
embarking on this journey will surely
devastate and no longer relate
to anything, anyone, once it's begun
once destiny's web is spun

builds the future
someone can be a pronoun or a noun
an unknown force to be found
between the liars and thieves
between you and me
the spaces unseen
dimensions beneath the beneath
twisted up in time
dragging the coattails of endless release
infinite grief
I'm in need and I bleed
when cut and shut up
shut up everything
everything doesn't mean a thing to me
lone lost waiting, wanting, hating
spin old world and universe
spin and play
in the dismal spaces of reflexive decay
on dust, dirt, matter that will soon fade

be kind, be you
nothing more to say


I sit in the office at the cab company dazedly tracing maps on the wall with open eyes
dry and not ready to slip into sleeps sagging grip
Life and it's suffering endings
where people are building and building
where atoms are splitting and spitting the fires of creation
by mans hand and endless imagination
i digress to ingest the pill to recess into
some form of slave in mind and in pain
the strain to pay to keep things the same
low income, no income, don't come bother me
look what you got I need that too
I want some of the pie I'm entitled to
the reaper is paid on minimum wage as debts collect
our spirits fade and numbers on receipts do not matter
that designer bag and bad tan will not stand
the force and course of a rhythmic physics winter
we sold short our selves our lives in progress
bars and chains lost souls and blood stains
as we pack 'em in they become strange, estranged
belonging to something because, don't die don't
fight, fuck, feel,
run, jump, breathe,
see, share, believe

rage fades and I say oh well
don't dwell it will put you in a spell
from then fell to hell and no souls can tell
born into this mess into this all
this racing spinning pinball machine
riding into the night as the sounds of bells ding
and ring out symphonies of bliss
into the eternal vacuums of nothing
waiting to be erased from the future of history
twenty is the sum of Fibonacci
twelve jurors is all you need


f it im gone home

It is 1:16 in the morning
I don't hear the clatter and clamor
of the alley people that I've grown accustomed to
those loud rantings that rattle through the air
bouncing from wall to wall and into my ear
The cold must have pushed them inside
into little spaces gazing sleepily
with hospital beds and color t.v.

They see faces, games,
illusions, life,
things they want,
people they enjoy ,
and objects they like

The broken people lie dormant
when winters sickening face shows
they hold in the howls and hacks
that braved old warm mornings
Hot with the ferocity of liquor
passionate in some taboo quest
they gag on memories and smoke,
cackling into the night
owners of the night
whimpering rhythm and blues like anthems
in flickering pipe light

We used to drink and go to the river
skate up and down the docks
enthralled in a search for something beyond our comprehension
we would coast past the bums sleeping on benches in Liberty Park
our faces red and heads doused in sweat
often falling on cool red stones
bursting with energy in the sleeping city
as we give the ledge one last shot


long range

I look both ways

, and cross the intersection
on forward, toward the money, cars, that run on work
on toward the light, the furthered lives, rich with earth
on people go rounding the circle so slow,
but this sight that lit these lights show
the things we don't know, wouldn't, couldn't know

one moment in time, where things began
where the formula for decisions came forward with plan
you, you feral creature,
us like packs within a hive
where we swim, run, or fly
burning and churning the world as we die

awake, you blade you sculptor
ride into smashing waves and brave the thunder
the minds subtle signs don't blind,
so resign yourself to the feeling
that everything goes as it should
though sometimes it seems that we are torn at the seams
unwinding and finding things a bit mixed up but...
wake up^
don't thrive on discredit concern for the return
it will burn with silences sweet pangs of November's rains
lazily chasing rabbits through habits pains
through every drop water set to drain,
through golden arches and maize
bowing down dilapidated in praise

old numbers written,
stenciled hastily inside the mind
pushing, pushing buttons to no where, no one.
subtle sordid and strengthened through the sun
you, who thought it true to part ways and stay late
waiting frozen like dead batteries of the earth, like
wax figures in nuclear dawn

have fun son, live life long loving, not to think that;
we are runners gunning and shunning the fact
that this system is flawed and completely off of track
I choose to boost my self esteem with a total lack
of dreams

in sleeps tired eyes
or cool salt breeze and fireflies
we all have to roll the dice
around the world searching for paradice
on the way I've grown in my mind and my eyes
a weary warrior who was woefully wounded,
through himself and he had chose to,
but life goes it gets thick with pain tears and shit,
so droned out we barely resist or persist on things
the "sayers" do proclaim and strain to refrain from this
exact exhibit with wistful wit, wise wealthy winners
win on, and are wrought up in a new bought way
well ascended from the medium range
thoughts so sullen and strange simmer slowly
under burning furnace flame,
ignited electronically
made easy and marketed freely
paid dollars, greasy, sleazy
illegally bleed those in need in due time and due place
the greed reigns supreme as it's exploded spleen
spews blood red money no structure of green
elude, allude, illusions pay, paid, due, overdue, overdraft
underpaid, undercut, interest, fee, free to see that this is you
and this is being told to be
this is you one day, dust and bone

created in this space to displace the race, the breed, the number
orders and creed, the sly, the hand, the bribed, souled up, fouled
bankrupt, spenders, spendthrifts, sold out, brought up, used up
split cells, dollar bills, change, change, glistening under moth
shuttered light in open air in calming wave drifting off
in other world in fantasy in play and in prayer in harmony
in karmas wrangling hold folded into place into play
the pawn pieces of eternities game
played till the pieces are too frayed to remain
this strain makes me say that nothing is the same
would I, you, we would, are, ok,
I'll make the world made for me
old dawn cap you fisherman son
go out into the lake at night scattered
kicked leaves in the fishes funerary fire
and that trees soul does it spout out into
black oak earth like tiny skyscrapers
tadpoles sleep in hand print holes
the sandy bed where we retire

Old love, old one, given life from safety
falling apart, falling asleep, growing stranger
like the best of the days, the best of all time
sadness in a voice
and pain within the rhyme

oh you somber way
you cool bath in radiant rays
you, I take you in I ... loving arms tracing hands
warm place, the rhythm the rhythm
hold on ghost hold on old woes
hold on lost loving land lined with fantastic regards
oh eyes, you bother me so
you, you see only what you can and not what I want
forgive me self for breaking rules and regulations
for constant disregard and disbelief
for holding on to dreams
and having to give some up

woe, you, won't hold me
like burst balloon blues
like shaking the feelings loose
like where I should be
when I could be what would be the use
to linger on a second,
just a second sir I infer
that this sense in my soul
in that third human dimension

listen man the man had said before
what fabled inspiration grabbed hold and rolled us around
forgive me first of all friends I am still around
I'm bound to the sound I confound and astound you blatantly

I'm sold, I bought the parts of the nothing
now i'm out of everything
i fought gravity, and I fought air
roughly writing about this despair

i search every day I can't find you
no matter how hard I look into the crowds on streets
and in busy macy's department stores
then on and on we can all go on 'old golden fringing listing losing growing'
shedding sleeping on groggy fuck damn ok bu it up drink it up same shit different day
oh I'm just too awkward to deal well under certain circumstanes


In a complex world of nothing we are all alone.
I fought the feeling and now I call it home.
I lost lived and lounged in loving graces
fought wars in foreign places
I've drifted around the country like a loose
paper brushed with the wind
I fell victim of plans to destroy me
myself from within
I've caused pain and sorrow, destruction and more
and every time it was a dreadful chore
bliss is blinding that fleeting feeling
tempting the tips of fingers stretched
the cool smoothness of lip

gone, frayed away to pieces and recycled
in the eternal machine of time
A lone figure stands in the darkness
the empty life stands between cries


A moment

A Moment (Near The End)

Old pictures on older walls gather dust
in the houses of the dying.
Pots and pans of cherished existence
linger in cabinets with rusty finishes.

The darkness in wood’s grain that frames
our narrow doors of perception;
the stains of times ticking persistence
do not penetrate these glistening visages.

____ The green leaves hang so still there,
_____- my they have patience.

Watching the spinning blades
on life flight helicopters, past
spinning hour and minute hands
pacing between rhythms of an EKG.

Look up from the magazine and the scene
is so frightening

twisted hands in turning machines,
cradled in calm waves of electricity.

All of our ladders of insignificance
collapse underneath.

Masked in gauze under pale
halogen light, a figure of the future;
infantile and awry.

In worn skin yellow hues turn
to deeper purples and blues.
The blackness of deaths trail
flowers inside of bruises.

____They pass, they are passing, this is going to be me
____this is all this is us this is you this is me

Late calls and dim lit parking lots,
automatic doors and balloons,
magazines and candy,
____habitual subliminal urge:
____consume, consume, consume.

Old objects in older spaces gather dust
in empty, unfamiliar, yet
well known places;
in waking dreams still,
dancing in fading eyes,
tracing loving faces.
Saying good by old friends
while shaking life's passing hands

_____maybe somehow, I will see you again
_____we will be created in this sweet earth again
____maybe this time I will listen
__to each note of a beautiful song that much longer
__I will be more alive, and in love, and even stronger


march of the bone

it hits me as I wash the chalk from my fingers,
as I scrub into the thumbnail crack.
Those who laugh last, still crash, in this
planned out phase of existence
and distance; will not increase resistance, in this
paradoxal plane of physics

Drown into yourself
on holidays ever after,
bygones be gone like yesterday's paper
I itch that scratch and burn in it later
upon inspection the best correction
seems to be...

I don't fucking know
we hardly ever do, us} { people} {
we drew out of the water with test~run lungs
? formed a thought and thought we had won
bows, trebuchet, and then made the gun
nuclear weapons, chemical testing,
Christ, we used to worship the sun
The madness of man it is a disease,
we walk a thin line between,
talking animal and moving machine
making everything so squeaky clean
hushing the silence,


doling incidents

desire and it's ritualistic ripples surge through with relentless incisions
cutting and pasting replications of their idea
dull, dry, and dolere
stomach pain
butterflies dying
over-saturated emotions
pulsing with a re-dubbed feel
old tensity returns and burns through fields
stuffy head and clouded mind
how did we ever get so behind



oh you
you apparition
where do you come from?
from protein? from amino acid?
are you traces of carbon, iron, or
are you awry electrical forces
forging yourself from the design?
from the code deep inside?
are you real?
existence may only be in the mind,
but the way your eyes blossom
you must be alive
I want you to be alive
not just fog and faux

reality vaporizes just a thought
shrewd faces and authoritative talk,
we are all carriers of a broken conscience
chasing fading dreams all for naught

but arms will be laced again
breathing through strands of hair
fed to sleep
preparing to disappear

live long and love,
love and be loved.
carry a net
catch that apparition
change the lonesome tradition.
open eyes must see
more than visually
there is no perfection in destiny


The trees started growing again after the fall of the moon. The darkness and its perils receded, and as they drew out of the caves in droves, they stood in amazement. The sprouts were coming up from the dust and rubble reaching for the glimmering hazy light. On scarred knees these ravenous people smelt the first blooms of already browning dandelion flowers.
Eyes became bleached in the pits, and words became everything. Generations had passed and withered in the dank of the underground. The sewage their forefathers had swam through to live had been washed away, yet the stench of death still remained. Air littered with spinning particles of blacks and grays tasted like purity in noses and lungs.
Gone were the days of creation.


take the pills
dissolving, stomach acid

brain sliding against skull
veins,arteries, and tubes
tucked between muscle

underneath close-woven cellular skin

lightheaded and losing sense
cement square after cement square

the life of the leaf
captured in a hardened snare

and your hands are clean
after stretching your life out,

on the tv screen
it's the moms and dads
and sons and daughters

all of the happy dreams
where floating air's like water



my frigid wrist
my howling spirit
my genuine thoughts and feelings
open your self

in a walk, in a spin
in an airtight ship
on wallowing knees
in sacred heart in solemn vision
of life ever art
gone bewilderedness
fading lights on
shapely dark heads
cool side show up
call me again
take what you want
from take me on home
the risen division of my decisions
falters not favors
and over again
your words, eyes, thoughts
trailing, finally
gone, through, out
making somethings about
woe, woe, woe, dear sight
fainters and painters delights
honest over ear over
hey whats that you hear
the mission of discipline
is to right an error
the reason for leavin'
is feeling young again
I wrote all my lovers
i left with empty hands
I bathed in realization
that this is only the only life
micro and macro
we wont happen again
I thank all your bellows to the core
on progress on insight on red shoes in a dark lit light
sync, cap, repeat
playback, scrap that


long thought

I am a walking mammal. A bi-ped homo sapien.
I have an epidermis, it coats my entire body.
I perceive color spectrum through ocular lenses.
Electromagnetism rules my physical world.
If there is a god he hides in the mysteries of gravity,
and within the secrets of the atom.
My needs are as follows:
Oxygen mixture for cell function
Carbon based matter for cell function
Hydrogen-Oxygen mixture for hydration
Fornication for reproduction(optional)
Communication for proper brain function
Sunlight for survival
Weapons for cell defense(optional)
Temperate climate for survival

Any "needs" past these are strictly "wants".
Wants have constructed my immediate material world.
"Life" is perplexing in nature.
Time is infinite
and everything is obsolete.
Thought is beyond the realm of the purely physical.
The galaxies of yesterday are the black holes of tomorrow.
Yet another idea that escapes the finality of scientific dissection.
Scientific dissection had sliced through everything, and stripped it of supernatural fiction. With unexplainable phenomenon humans may have had more passion. People often do great and terrible things in the face of what they do not understand. It is far worse when large amounts of humans have terrible misconceptions about life and the finality of it.


we walk staring at the ground, staring at the faces
hands rested in familiar places,
puffed air, breath out; defiance
soft hums of working metals
roll through alleys and down nestled sidewalks
eyes quiver against sweeping cold
and I'm told
told to be the whole soul
an old role
habits, and lack of good ones
slumping, sleeping away
chasing luck's rolling waves
til the soul is saved
no more wasting days
no more sulking ways
enveloped in an eternal gloom
so soon to be sold into doom
no room for poor panicked you
the sad shift of gentle things
the fast fist of struggling
polished people look into shining mirrors
as I look into saturated dreams
recount, regret splitting seems
farther down from the crown
than a man should be
resting heads on rolled up beds
want fucked, drunk, and fed
want warm rooms
without the face of death
in dirt and stones in empty shoes
in dreams and thoughts too
souls spin in thousands
lost causes tie them to the ground
floating hopes like sinking boats
churning in the wake
i'm a step removed and slightly unseen
beyond the arch of the artillery
beyond the clouds of dropping debris
first come first serve for what they deserve



in solemn hope and concentration
the black smears white light in every dimension
through thin windows
in endless detail
waltzing neons strut;
in searching through fading static
while begging the fire down
small drops of chemical equation
calm shaking hands
the honest empathy
for another

blazing within,
the pious, the negligent
forces left to understand
bring fear for fear cleanses,
it bleaches the deepest reaches
i'll be damned.
spinning blade meet spinning hands
outstretched lives
in a random land


paid to behave and be brave and be...
pay to be new to be bold and be....
I'd pay to be....

busted, bruised, brainwashed
The best of the worst, of the altogether
unsatisfying, unbelievable, unbearable
worst for the best, of the broken,

Nostalgia of the times grasps
into beating chests
fills areas left untouched
enough, is enough, is enough
let us drink
to being alive


on dusty floors where our splintered crutches sprawl
static fills the air breaking sound like sweet lullabies
hymnals of insomnia and dazed withdrawl
heavy darkness squeezes
shoulders slump and life pumps out of blackened lungs
fire coats the inside hall and orange demons rise
flecks of pure white snow so slow they could be hung
blue opens up in worn eyes
staring out avoiding contact
straightening creases in a skirt
ruffling a paper switching songs
trying not to hate myself too much
working till the blisters rise and are gone
straightening my life up until dawn
making calls pretending to care
full of ambition
and lord does it wear
scattered bits of this and that
spider-webbed and off track
curtain drops
fade to black


pattern of reuse

all is well we'll sing
strumming silver string
on top of the world
with no one to see
saturday the earth pulls
and wagers made
far from crying tears
and homely souls endeared
the patron saint of all
lies decadent in fear
motors wind and coils toil
magnets pull us down
freeze dried dreams
taste old and stale
the gate opens with a creak
shadows diving underneath
the fall and rise of the morning tide
wash away all need


losing all direction

bent fingers from bending hands
twisting time, minute by minute
folding holds on broken souls
dropping to the ground
intense, past tense, resent
the world is yours
belief, crack-jack-roll, scandal
behind scandals
everyone needs to know
hand over hand blooming
resuming control
far from real, farther from home
four ways to face
with bright open eyes


post conceptual romance

why can't we each just be opening up
oh my god
a little bit of good old honest did you say
but what
the furnace is burning every thing that I love
did you want
the cage is demanding at least I'm standing here
with the door shut
your feeding me beating me heating me up
now thats just
i said what I say and take it away
god damn mouth
just won't shut, won't shut it up
my fingers escape when it's getting late
I'm too drunk
it comes out wrong it comes out lost
oh my god I've lost you for once
on the couch in the place a party one more
and it's true
swept up and away everyone must pay
for the choices we make
around and around where everyone found
something sweet
they walked on for hours and days and for years
while others just wiped off the tears
so much expectation on my behalf I give up
i'm just not enough
farther and farther the spaces between
the gold pumped out through my human machines
glorify everything wrong everything they say I should not
used and abused now all that I know is the same
torn and contorted I get no joy from plain
sure now I'm sober I'll just tell you again
but the tongue that I use so potently
just seems to freeze
and it's time to leave
so see you around, in the air or in your car
I'll be beaten and varnished so it might be wise
to unpack your tools
and stay just a little while


bleach burns and the alkalie

somehow I've lost all my style
Just want to make you smile
what's wrong, nothings wrong
except it all
wind up key in my back
said it at and I take it back
your so cool
I'm so hip
I'm so sick of this feeling sick, stuck
all over the world I see smiles
all over the street I see cries
I want to wash them up
with the dirty newspaper
I want to walk, a long one
a lonely time
I want to put on a suit, with the flanel colors you like
with the shredded up tie
letters like big green balloons in my mind
give way to shapes that I cannot define
possibly a face, but more likely an apple
I see the sunset
and I think of it
and I think fo the pictures
the buildings cascading up or down
my feelings cascading all around
the spirals on a fancy pillow
or the lace on the hem of her dress
the way the white cuts to tan then to black
I heart this I heart that I heart us i heart
i heart beat in chest, hold my bones, heart caress
black shades, not really shades just the black
with white crisp lines then shadowing
cool air, cool water
lost love, unborn daughter
fool, my am, me I
bandage your head now little one
brandish your weapon dear sir
play that beat again backwards
forwards and around
tunnel, spin, in the web
of neon blues and greens
falling, fallen, fullen, sullen, sulking
a ball and a minute
lock the door, turn around
spin the coin, spin some more
dolly daze gagged and played on the machine
in the machine swelling and twisting
isn't she clean
father mother what is a
me you her him it what are we?
field dream, crochet, fade away
puff, billow, glow, grown coarse
fish, pond, jump, lilly
skip, fly away to another city
where the carnival doesn't leave
where the birds always sing
signed sold, delivered, cod
in the ocean the plastic stretches
and breathes
the hum we emit, the sounds where no one can here or see
where isn't a place it's a time, or it's a moment, or its..
a positive negative feeling
everything, vibrating, creating, something from nothing
somethings from zero, zero to me
build those blocks nature
build that lego castle version of everything
face, a face is worth a thousand hellos
a thousand wrists held
a thousand beautiful dinners
and even more drugs
pause and rewind
read the black lines
that build on this empty space
that i fill and refill
can you have enough, can you see through this
like you see through your storm windows
forget about your house of cards
fall into this fold those drop away
so sad, sappy, vicious, vulgar
impaled on rocks in the sun


I haven't taken St Johns Wort in a few days and feel a little unsettled. I feel a little tired, a little lost, and a little scared. Too many things are stirring up my already muddled mind. Old friends bring back old memories, memories of old friends.
Many people refer to life as a long road. When I think of it that way I see some parts as the long amazing scenery I grew tired of and fond of at the same time, other parts are pothole riddled, others are country back roads where I got lost, but too often they were loops I spiraled around in thinking I was getting somewhere, but was only running out of gas. Right now I feel like I'm on an extremely long on-ramp. The dashboard is littered with postcards of all the places I have been. My car is getting older and not running quite as well as it has. The air freshener has run out, and I no longer control the air conditioning. Sometimes it rains and the wipers don't work. Sometimes I have to get out and hitchhike, but no one wants to pick me up. Sometimes I curl up in the back with my stories, and my emergency blanket, eating gas station candy til I fall asleep. There is one photograph of a snowy hill overlooking the city that is worn terribly on the edges. It is dark out and the shadows of the leafless trees are cast by street lamps. You can see two figures inside shivering, hiding from the cold. Other than them, society does not exist.
I have been separated and divorced for over a year. It was a mistake and I've been thinking about how big a mistake it was lately. I want to take it back, but it's impossible. I went to my cousins wedding last month and it hurt seeing how really beautiful a wedding should be. I feel like my tainted version of marriage and relationships has destroyed my ability to find love, or to look at love the same way I did before.
There are worse things than being alone, like being with someone who you do not love, but being alone is still in the top five. I want a drink, but I have to work early. I should be sleeping now instead of writing this. My eyes are drooping and the Cubs are winning. I wish it would rain some more.


waking up to being someone

The demons of Clark street came in a fury. The tides that pull the forces of the planets around must have been disrupted, or the power of the spirit flows in giant powerful beams, and one hit us. Maybe they came from the earth, because you could feel it in the ground. There was a bitterness in the air and everyone tasted metal when they swallowed. Some things people will never believe, until it happens to them.
Raoul Sanchez was a mechanic on Clark street. He was born and raised there, had a house and five children. Raoul would not call himself a holy man. He might say he was superstitious. His mind thought analytically, which intrinsically made him apt to disbelieve in the supernatural. Until his family was attacked by demons.
They fled into the street for the festival and were ready to party. People were drinking, and eating the best of the areas cuisine. Raoul was getting Italian ice for his sons when the demon made it's move. Raoul's stare was caught right behind a woman in a bath robe and slippers. The space behind her was distorted, as a glass figure slid into her body. Raoul felt a shiver and dropped one of the cups of ice. He looked down at it then up to the woman quickly to catch her staring straight at him. Her eyes were the color of lions in the sun. Her mouth drew down to a scowl, she was showing teeth and stretching her shaking hands out. Raoul turned and started walking towards his children. He could feel her staring at him and started walking faster.
His wife and children were not where he had left them. He looked around the crowd shading his eyes with a cup of the ice, the white spoon contrasting the sky, sun glistening through shards of strains of hydrogen molecules. He caught her out of a corner of his eye and saw she was quickly on his trail. He didn't feel good. He was starting to sweat and his adrenaline pump, he didn't want to stir himself up over nothing, but that shit was weird. Raoul thought he saw one of his children up ahead but a crowd of blocked his view. He yelled Victor's name, which was his youngest son. He heard a noise behind him of people shuffling and some guy saying "watch where your going, jesus!" Raoul's hands went numb, and he was seeing specks of light all around, he thought it was a hell of a time to have heat stroke. His head was pounding and drowning out the growing noises of warning behind him. He dropped the ice on his head and looked to the sky with fluttering eyes. He couldn't help but drop to his knees. Kneeling there he felt like he might die immediately when his hat started to glow. He felt like water that has suddenly been calmed. He rose to his feet.
The screams crept in and he turned to see the woman that was following him, who had hit a growth spurt within the last three minutes, knocking a group of people down by smacking them in the face with her elbow, which was now the size of a regulation softball. People were dashing out of the way of the woman who had grown to the size of a football player on steroids and growth hormone. Her robe was tight raising her arms up and she could no longer keep it closed. The exposed undergarments where ripping apart from rapid growth. She started running toward Raoul.
He felt the energy coming at him like pebbles from a shotgun. She leaped into the air coming down on Raoul, and slamming him to the ground putting pressure on his chest. There was no sound. Everything was still. Everything was dark. Raoul had no breath left and his chest hurt badly. He could not imagine taking another breath. The woman pushed down on him while screaming deep rough tones. Six people around them dropped to the ground, unconscious. Cutting through the blazing hot road, Raoul felt himself sinking into cool earth. Energy pulsated through his body, and he sucked in the best gulp of oxygen he had ever had. Two men tried to grab the woman, she twisted one of the men's arm until bone was sliding up against the underlayer of his flesh. The other man pulled him away screaming.
Raoul shifted his weight and grabbed the girls hand. It was hot, but he kept his grip. She turned and made a slash for his throat, missing and hitting his shoulder, where blood started to soak into the fabric of his shirt. The band came on. Raoul had gotten an advantage of putting her off balance and startling her and he pushed her toward the ground. He held her arms out, miraculously overpowering her. He looked into the burning and flickering of her eyes. She didn't look human.
He felt a tingly tickly feeling coming up from his groin to his throat, his tounge felt like he licked a battery. The woman started shaking and Raoul could tell she was losing power. He started making a noise deep in his diagphram. The sound of a thousand doors opening came out of his throat and the woman went lifeless. The ground around her distorted and faded away.
Raoul got off of her and the people crowded around started praying and looking at Raoul as if he had just conquored a dragon. He looked at them standing there waiting for something, some kind of peace. They all felt they had experienced something unique, and Raoul could tell. He waited and searched his mind hoping something would come up, but all he could hear was the music playing. To the people he said nothing. He turned toward the sound and walked. The people started talking, and the woman shrunk in size. The paramedics came and took her away, the security officers handcuffed her to the railing as they took her away. The people stayed and felt amazed by the evening. Raoul danced like a hero, and rejoiced in survival, he loved being there with his family.
The people in the crowd went home that night in awe. They pullout out thier phones, cameras, and handheld video cameras in hopes they had cought the whole thing. As they checked through the tape it got distorted and the immage blurred beyond recognition. Some of the distortion lasted for entire videos. Pictures were unrecognizable. The people there never forgot what had transpired, and regarded Raoul as a conquerer of evil. Some things people will never believe, until it happens to them.


The cars burn up into little twisted bits. The smoke rides into the sky on whisps of cool and hot air. The ash flutters around like gray snowflakes. These fractions of the universe are impossible to explain. Blood for blood, an eye for an eye. The people in my back alley still smoke drink and yell about even more trivial things.
When my mind craves greater things than I can achieve. When it's overloaded with large and small things. When I find myself praying again. I know it's time to leave. No one is meant to put up with what we do in society today. These minds and bodies developed through smaller changes, and greater purposes. People are strange and seemingly always bickering. Crying, screaming, or dreaming.
I sulk and I sink into the couch where some with easier conscience than me can drown themselves in the light of the t.v. Its hard to pay attention when your eyes don't want to see anything. Stimulation is key.
Left yo right yo left yo left your right your left right left yo left yo right now pick up the step your left yo right yo leyieeft

long live the king

Beauty is what resides outside of what we know and comprehend.
Comfort is dwelling in what we do.

I walk the streets inspecting cracks, expecting just that. Imprints of feet, shoes, neon nails slide through the view and out behind. I look up and my mind focuses only on legs, butts, and breasts. I sigh a breath. I know it's ingrained and aggravating. I see fashion and pride, beautiful bodies, beautiful eyes. A million stretch out and past. Walking Venuses, so lovely to look at, to beautiful to possess, to caress. Who would want to caress emptiness?
It's tough being out of touch, out of time, out of control, out of your mind. It's awkward starting things up, when it feels like nothing is ever finished. It's hard to judge a shirt as a soul, a haircut to a person as a whole.
Your shoes make you tall, but quicker to fall. Though we all take chances, the problems just evolve. It's hard to win when the house has all the cards. It's hard to lose, when you best loss is your sacred win. Fall out until the end, riding the wind. Til we part and say goodbye dear day.


lackluster and slack through the being

The only war left is with ourselves.
The only war left is with ourselves.
the ONLY war left is with ourselves.
The only war left is in our heads .
The only war left is in our heads .
THE ONLY war left is in our heads .
the only war left is in our souls .
these only,war's left, in our mind .
these only, wars left in our mind .
the only wars left are in our mind .
the only war left is inside our heart.
the only,war left, in our heart.
the only war left is in our heart.
only war left in our heart.
the only war
the only war left is life.
the only war left, life.
the life.
These only wars left are shadows.
the only war left is a shadow .
l war a
these only,war'sleft are shadows.
the war left shadows.

bang damn gun rocket out motherfucker god
concrete disciple, wasting anything that comes to mind
chant words and whispers hoping just to stay alive
cool damp the inside of a tomb
and the race is on the wisdom tooth pulled
lost reasoning, resonating
paper pages plastered on thick
to this mud waste we call brick
frame it all up and paint it all blue
because god is an angel and he fucking loves you
trees can't be seen here anymore
this place is the place where we die for
from somewhere else invading
this is why I try just debating
nothing is real nothing is true
the more that you own the easier it is to do
forgive and forget but always pay a debt
and when the morning bell comes if your still around
I want you to man up and follow me down
to the river where we all trudged in the mud
we will fill our canteens and dig your body up
we'll put coins in our eyes and lay them back down
follow the reaper to that howling sound
the jackals the devils in their disguise
when death comes a knocking I won't be surprised
talking tall tales into dark caverns and wishing wells
waiting debating what fails to put air in the sails
what fails to hold me to the rails
supposing, supposing anger and rage as we change the page
and everything is exactly the same
the water run dry, the goats will all die, the life will erode
and no one will ever fucking know
you've got shit on your face and inside your boots
you've got pocketwatches for proof
you've got shade and summer and rain
you've got christmas and snowfall and pain
you've got ripped up packages letters and raaaaaage

and I'm on the table pendulum coming down
razor sharp and slicing me down
breaking me out
pulling me out
and too many lines in the flesh
too much energy to be depressed
too much life for this to be the best
and the shadow comes in
inside the house at the end of the bed
without moment to breathe moment to rest
we crossed our fingers and crossed our chest
unfortunately that's all we had left

denemyne: that devil inside
the wasted souls bride
the one I'm so quick to hide, behind
howling in the sandcastles of the mind
buy the ticket take the ride, pick a side
fight or right or right or fight, alright
I've got me in my sights

afterthoughts on a disaster

He could have been anything.
She dreamt it all away.
The atoms could have just broken away.

When she kissed him she only thought of bad meat. His fake demeanor let loose like tied shoes at the end of the night. Left with breathing heavy over nothing. Left with stains on the mattress to clean. Left with stained black eyes to draw up again.
Her heels made her taller, her stylist made her more appealing. She walked with the sway in a thousand men's dreams. Dropped like glass, unfulfilled, and ready to bleed, fluttering eyelashes smash into eachother at the softest high speed.
Her arms hang on the street or on the train. She smelled of the most fragrant places, and you couldn't find one like her in any others faces. She raised a chin and eyes clung to the ceiling.
They went to the beach, they drank lavishly. His finely trimmed beard tickled her chin. Their skin would slide across the others like smooth packaging. He held her like a trophy. Walking side by side they held hands and spoke of nothing. In his head she was a stepping stone, in her head he was a possibility. Shattered dreams and misunderstandings.
She flipped through the magazines lazily on a Sunday waiting. He was busy the night before and now three hours late. A smile of annoyance creased her face for she was still in the mood for a burst of heat and forgiving. Her toe tapped to the beat of the second hand, now changing channels on the t.v. She stretched out and ran a lonely hand across freshly shaven legs. He called when she was into a bottle of wine and feeling bitterly. She gave him a hassle then asked if they could see eachother. He was once again busy. A story where there is something to do very important and immediate, something she would never check or argue to disbelieve. The red end button was pressed and the phone down and away. Disgust, like smelling rotten meat. Like feeling incomplete, obsolite, drinking to wash down the glimmers of deciet.
She checks her facebook scanning his page by page. Who were these people and what do they mean. Never met, never known, never seen. This virtual life is my life, it's your life, it's all the people in between, down and out, around, and never supposed to be. Dates and times, line by luminescent line traced by advertisement targeting your hairs illustrious shine. Put out the candles and go to bed.
Not answering. Pacing, working, wondering. Forgetting.
She sees the light shine through the glass doors. It's a sunset escaping the city. A child jumps and fumbles holding dearly to a hand and it's gone. The cars rush by and she stands next to the street alive, awake, and dreaming. Something her girlfriends all know but don't know how to say. Something when the sun goes out and you feel this way. Wandering eyes hold promise, but those promises are so empty.
He doesn't think. He doesn't care. He sees her as he rides by in a cab and hopes she didn't see. Gone. Heartbreak 1,2,3
Roses, planted from seed, sit on the countertop. Drooping out of the same cheaply bought vase. A note that reads, "Sorry, I was afraid...I love you", is scattered in torn up pieces throughout the apartment. She is there with glassy eyes and huddled up frame. Holding the phone highlighting his name. Going from delete to send message back and forth again.
He doesn't care, he can always wait. He can move on and just say it was fate. In this moment we all fade away.
I loved her. Now I love her pain. I love the dark feeling of regret and isolation that put her in my shoes. I love that feeling sinking in, that even if.............things will never be the same.


acid rainclowd

short on rent
I'm short on life
I'm the short end of the stick
ground meat inside of weak skin
I don't beg
I don't plead
I'm sick of being sick constantly
I can see
I can read the veins on your hand
I know where they lead
from fingertips to arteries
my favorite pastime is imagining
imagining that this is just a stupid dream
that everything isn't how it really seems
when someone spends a years worth of my salary
on one night in a restaurant drinking and eating
my other pastimes included bitching
being mean
and destroying
everything beautiful around me
I stare, stale, and soberly
after raging up a storm that only hurt me
that only burnt and buried me

old mr bones ridin' on his ship
the mast came down and spun him round
and over the side he slipped

you can't have love, you can't enjoy sex
your flesh is heavy you want to shed it
you can't wait, you can't speed it up
what you've lost doesn't matter
but what you stand to does

and they will cry
I will fall into the vat
the pieces will rise to the top
and you will stand away with misled eyes
you will wash away the part of you that hurts
when you see the part of me you love die
and the church bells ringing don't bring me
closer to god

two by stupid two
until you add one
then all the fun is done
then you better become someone
then it is dark if you don't succeed
it's dark anyway

we pass the time and get the dark things off our mind. we drink like heroes in the dark on the porch in our little rooms we cant' really afford. We blame the world, we love the world, that's why it's so hard
it's hard to forgive and forget that which me never ever really et that which we had not challenged that which haunts us for no reason
and the church bells ringing don't push me away fro a bad place, they don't do much at all. But the shadows cast outside through the vines and trees pull me apart and touch this fear that I still have after dying in my own mind in my own right n the wrong place in the wrong time line after vicious fucking line and I sigh
gateway disappears
it's just me just here just the hollow shackles of fear
just the bitter breath of fighting and beer
just the smell of rotten paint that we throw over everything we don't want to hear
black square after black square with no space to spare
with no hands or legs to repair
no bottomless pit to fill
no way to feel
no way to feel
no way to feel
that is
this is
this is enough, a stopping point.,...l,..k,,....k,,,,....
love is
love is searching through cabinets for whatever pills to take because our brain says medicine takes pain away,
love is
love is
love is not fucking when you just as well can
love is
love is
what is
this is
feeble attempt
this is
dazing away
this is
finishing nothing that you started with even less
this is
death on a hill
this is
this is
holding your breath

gamble bamble bamble
follow the gold brick road
follow the president
follow the corporations
follow the sidewalk or the road
to the next little place you think you know
follow the creases and cracks the rocks that slip past
the trees and the weeds that grow back
follow me into a darker future history

leg drop soup
with chow pain noodles
drinking red headed ex wives
sharpening the kitchen knives
wearing the lovers disguise
breaking down insides
framing your imperfect mind
doing with out really trying
this is the time when you decide
when you collide
when you realize
there are worse things
than dying



slices of sky
piled with night
god give up
what for is my fight
gone going in nothing evermore
waste creates and I create
with this whole world every atom in its place
possesive, your pronouns arent coming out right
the river washes the cool sand from my eyes
gone going everyone is a maze
every pupil glazed every space braced
and spaced out longing for longing for longer
chains wrap dew drops soda goes flat
we do the twist and we put our legs in
one by little one two three
fall out and about take a different route now slow yourself down
little blisters build and still I pop crop circles of pain
razors edges and the eternal flame
broken seeds and army wives this this this
feeling alive the day, the night, day day day
wash away white
traces and faces and pure apple pie
the racing and pacing of trains going by
we'll lay on the track head down and whistles blowing
us away, away, away
this isn't happening, this isn't real
on the bottom the top the insides the sides themselves
she says she says she says
thanks for fucking me up
thanks for saying goodbye
now we're tied up like tree branches
we are the barkless trees in the way of everything
on our way on our own seeking
feeling breath on our necks holding arms in our arms
waking up to alars saying now way
I won't go to work today
I'll sit and write on paper with the blackest ink I can find
I'll make you a mix tape you won't have to rewind
front to back and back again
all over everything everyones in
the game is a golden wash in the war
the salt keeps on dripping out every pore
the gasses the tightrope we all come from one
the plastic in the ocean
still escapes the sun
inside of kalidescopes and desolate dreams
I'll live with this twisted reality
I'll live with this nothing that sweeps over me. I'll live like a monk and she still wouldn't care
everything is everything and I still dont matter
you've got comfort and food, and a nice comfy bed but you live alll alone because
you live in your head and these days these days these days you see
but you don't see me you don't pause for a second you don't even breathe
the kiss on the mirror the break in the plate the space between letters the letters in a name
the wisdom it won't pass in the shdows of your page
the letters will dust and never be read again
the shower is warm and my soul is so cold
the feeling I get is this feeling that just wont go
I need arms, I need words, I need lips and heavin is there we whistle with the train
we say goodbye we say...................
anything from me is anothing meant to be, anything from you is so damn true
the darker the color the deeper the blue
the whirling whirly world twisted and contorted to my words
then the pictures the dark that comes with them I"ll fall asleep never to really sleep again
the time the time the time I died
the time I died I gave up
the time I died I gave up the fight you said to you told me
we could never be never be never be linked to oour own heartbeats
sense is for sense and cents are for cents
the dirty red of an aeroplane jacket
backed by black, the fool is the coward and silence is key
I'm typing and dying,, and crying, and cooling , and fooling, and done with misery
empty black screen empty black screen, empty black screen

buy you will love, your coal will clean up
your heart will beat on you , done.


where's wallo

Self induced trauma and insufficient funds
the pill box is running low and so is the fun.
Daytimes are dreary and at night time I don't sleep.
instead I sit craving everything that is so bad for me.
envelopes are gone and in is the screen,
discontented soulache and miserable decisions are often seen.
My own actions my visions they're wearing me thin,
the hole that I won't fill is still caving in.
One day it won't matter these bones will be dust,
drag on drive through do as you will, not as you must.
The happy all polish idols of wood and stone,
when their breath settles I hope that they aren't alone.
this heart does change with the seasons, this body grows old,
when the black dot on the horizon reaches me I hope to have some color to hold. Those brilliant reds of love in a kiss,
the warm browns of the hills, and white mountain mists,
the greens of the trees,
the purple pink sunsets, maroon autumn leaves,
the kind in my dreams.
where I may wallow,
and rest burning feet.


they don't have that

there are few

there are few I admire
I do not resist
those wild minds
that give me bliss

those I love
sit on the edges
straining to remain
on the level

one in ten should be on top
of the pyramid that
we've fooled ourselves
into believing
it's the only true

with no footsteps to fall into
no shadow to outshine
we dust our little tunnel
and hope
for better times

with scars on our backs
and pains in our hearts
we hold each other
in the dark


feed me

It seems I have devoted very little time to my own thoughts lately. The world is so interesting, there is so much to take in. I'm reading listening watching almost nonstop. I think it may be dulling me down from a sharp point to a rugged nub.

the wind through the windows hits me and rolls over
I roll over
empty space full mind
images of me slipping through time
like home video on an 8mm camera
video of me now full of static
like a B movie

the spaces between these steps like..like last breaths
the space between me and the mirror
there is so much between
love and disgust
it doesn't have to be broken to break your heart
six days on one day gone
the black ghost at my bed
all those ghosts in my dreams
all those memories
hide with me in the bunker
I'll put up pictures and write songs and phrases
I'll try to put forgotten names with distant faces

the only standard is the standard of me
everything and everone ceases to be
the red orange flame engulfing
the ashes fall and burn the dirty heart on my sleeve

fun, fun, forgotten lost in something
put on the costume of someone who cares
try to be civil and silently stare
no reply no wild eye
nothing no one not here
not anywhere

the streak is done


why do shiny things have to hurt

It's what you wanted. Escape. False hope. Life.

In the air is a cool smell like filtered water and antiseptic spray. The olfactory is working hard and it gets harder to tell. The mud sticks to stilettos as they pass from car door to car door. Put some quick clot on that wound. There is a line on the paper asking for qualifications and a sketched answer barely legible, written by an awkward human hand. I am a man. I breathe, eat, shit, and sleep. I made it this far I think it's time for the prize. No more standing in line. No more lines. No more rustling of paper and wishing I was somewhere else. When I came here today I spit on every car window in the parking lot. I feel no remorse. I trudged in and drug the mud of a thousand lives with me, living in the cool artificial light of meaningless existence. I fell into a chair where you and everyone/god told me to sit. Now I breathe cheap vodka in your face and dream of the tomorrow we meet with different eyes. Please give me the job, if anyone needs it I do.

Speeding car crashes
dashboard splintered glass
neon shades and the painted green grass
moist bottle glistening
lines in the sidewalks
stones in the path
whether its looking in pictures
or watering the plant
vacuuming the carpet
or researching the facts
my olfactory produces us
in every little task


transplanting reorganizing life

If you enjoy my blog sometimes you should check out my friend Curtis's http://unclaimedcurtis.blogspot.com, he's a great artist and a very Bukowskiesque person.


greasy spoon and the undergroud space sealife

Beep Beep Beep Beep
A quick slip of fingers across buttons and the alarm is off. A quick hop up and into the bathroom. A brush, the kind people clean their teeth with slides in and out of the mouth. Into the shower where warm streams slide down the body. Out of the shower into the mirror, looking at that same face you have seen forever, but hardly remember. A comb or a brush and a slap of deodorant, the kind people put under their arms so they don't stink when bacteria starts eating their sweat.

A jump out the door into the sun doing it's morning stretches across the sky. Across the town in a train, the kind that take people on elevated rails above the city, but below the buildings. Onto the street passing by people asking for money, the kind that have no other choice or no other will to do, or be. Into the restaurant. Into the kitchen. On to the grill the burgers sizzle. The orders come, the fries cook in vats of grease. Into the mouth they go one by one, breaking down in the body building up fat cells, the kind that at one time in history kept people alive in very bad times. Into the arteries cholesterol builds. Into the heart, and out of the heart, blood travels slowly being constricted by blood flowing. People grow.

Out of the restaurant into the street. Across the town in a train staring out the windows. Into the store, the kind that sells bottles or cans in various sizes and shapes. Back to the home into the glass. Into the mouth. Absorbed into the blood. Altering the brain, the kind which human function resides, also speculated to contain the "soul". Outside the window on the porch. They talk and yell. A lone man stands grunting and smacking himself in the head. Crying and alone there in the dark.

Into the bed and off to sleep. The sky is dim and there is snow all around. The clouds drop ice in huge blocks. They smash into the ground shooting shards all around them in a poof of snow. They make no sound. The ground cracks. Through the crack into the water. Under ice but not cold. There are trees that grow with little lights all through them. Trees, the kind that are so old and massive the branches touch the ground. The bubbles sit in the water like they are stuck in jello, the kind that jiggles when touched. The ice above is a mirror, but no person can be seen. Mines drift by with large spikes and rusted metal. They explode in the distance creating mild flashes of red and white. The water warms as it rushes by in little shock waves.

Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep
A hand glides across the alarm. A slow roll and into the bathroom. Brush, shower, comb, train, restaurant. Grease, cholesterol. Street. The stairs to the train grow. The top seems so high. Sweat beads on the head and heart thumps in ears. Pain shoots down arm. Tightness grips chest. Black and white specks float around. Fall, the kind that makes a head bleed. Crowd. Silence.

These are the things I remember from my last life.


a kinder gentler anger

the pills don't help
breathing, sleeping, eating don't help
tapping your foot doesn't help
pacing and scratching your head don't help
grunting and grinding teeth don't help
yelling doesn't help
punching the walls doesn't help
kicking the table doesn't help
scratching an itch harder than you should doesn't help
television doesn't help
water doesn't help
drinking might help but your not in the mood
staring at the wall you just hit doesn't help
youtube videos don't help
writing doesn't help
thinking about it doesn't help
cigarettes don't help

you slide off the couch. Fill your cup, empty your cup. You pick up a magazine disinterested. You change the channels. You light your smoke. You inhale. You check your phone. You check your computer. You get up just to walk. You walk around the coffee table. You flop on the couch. You write. You drink. You change the channels. You drink. You light a cigarette. You drink. You check the computer. You check your phone. Rinse, lather repeat, repeat, repeat.

In the short grass in the middle of a tall field surrounded by trees, you wake up. The clouds are a light purple and you can see the moon in the daylight. The only sound is the wind and your heartbeat. You lay down. The clouds pass like slow traffic in the sky. The sun burns somewhere out of sight. You breathe and it tastes good. Closing your eyes, you can feel the shadows sweep all around you. You can feel the static taking over your body starting at the back of your eyes. This happens everyday. Everyday, every minute, forever. You eventually get up and wander. You get through the tall grass to the trees full and waving. You pass them to another field. You walk across through the tall grass, then through the short grass. You lay down, the static takes you. This happens again and again forever. You dig but all you get is a big hole. You tear plants down, but everytime you open your eyes they are back again. You want to say this cloud looks like "this", or that cloud looks like "that", but you can't. Your mind doesn't work that way anymore. It happens every day, every minute forever. You scream. No one, and nothing answers. You climb the tallest tree you can find, it's a struggle, but you make it. At the top you look around and see nothing but circles of trees, around tall grass with short grass in the middle forever. You shake the tree and yell. You fall. Forever. Every day, every minute, forever. Rinse, lather, repeat, repeat, repeat.


air to breathe

spinning wheels with repetitive white lines passing underneath
black asphalt holding onto lines in lighter shades of gray
smelling the fresh cut grass mix with stale cigarette smoke and the unnatural scent of a foot shaped air freshener
love rides in a steel chassis with roaring cylinders
the light beats down through glass stained with spent life of a million insects
the pop music on the radio doesn't bother me because I feel to good to let it
the shadows get longer and everything shifts and swirls
it always seems as if you will likely end up right where you began
love is a particle accelerator
smashing bits together just to see what flies out
hoping you can uncover whats beneath what you always thought was the bottom
creating everything you hoped existed and hoped wouldn't get out of control
the sweat beads
down my temple where the veins that pump from my heart to my brain bulge below the surface
the wild dogs have all been trained
there is nothing else to bite us but ourselves
so you clench your teeth, waiting for a lure to bite
you stumble, never looking down, your face is the face of a monster
leaves fall and the still of summer is replaces with the still of loss
love is a cool November morning
when the meals are hearty and you sing with your soul
the sweaters we wear are full of so many memories
like that tee shirt I wore when you threw me in the road
I still wear it, hard to believe that was seven years ago
worn out shoes reflect our worn out faces reflecting worn out life
I can't bitch anymore, I have no right
my stomach does it all for me anyway
as I pour the drinks, as I try and fade away a little more than I have already
love is a snowball in between rocket attacks
when we try to hold onto a little piece of ourselves we left behind
somewhere on the asphalt, in the malls, and with our friends
the mountains look so beautiful, your eyes caress them cautiously
looking not merely in admiration, but in self preservation
I can see my breath, what I would give to see yours again
love is a home
a home can be so much for some, and so little to others
it's not a space between walls and a roof
it's the warmth in your chest, the dance in your step
the smile you can't give up even though your trying not to be sentimental
it's the tear, when there is someone there who knows you, and is ready to wipe it
it's not a good job, or a nice car, it's not a mortgage, or a child
it's not wondering, it's knowing
it's all I have ever known
never more than on a hill in a dead car in the cold
with the stars as our light
our future in the path of snow


sol's story part 1

March 23, 2005 - Wednesday

sol woke up in a pool of his own blood. he peeled his face away from the sticky maroon mess. his matted hair dropped above his eye. he looked at his hand and liked the strange way that the lines in his hand could be seen through the blood. sol thought god never gave him anything except the ability to find comfort in small things. he looked around and appreciated the eerie calm of the dark empty diner. the small lights of the equipment shining and the whirr of the cooler. he picked up the bloody glass of milk off the table and took it to the sink in the back. he removed his bloody apron and put it on a hook outside the bathroom and went in to assess the damage, in the mirror he saw a yin yang of a human face half covered in blood a bit sacreligious looking and the other the plain middle aged white, growing older by the week he thought. the explosion of red on is face obviously came from his nose. sol had never done coke but imagined that this is what heavy users deal with after years of dissolving thier own cartilege. sol started to get angry. he thought of the rabbit. that ugly mangy fucking rabbit. why did the demon have to plague him. why must his mind and body be constantly tortured by this fucking infested hell beast. well there was nothing to do about it now. religion was out of the question, sol had tried it for all about a month, but when the rabbit started joining him at church he decided he didn't need to cause a scene in the middle of a baptism. the rabbit had been around for about eight months now. sol was sitting in the recliner in his small apartment upstairs from newel's reseraunt watching a documentary on scrabble addicts when he felt it come. it was like a bulldozer relocating part of his brain. the pain was immense and fleeted like the ring of cymbals. it was followed with an enormous headache. sol felt like he couldn't breathe. so he got up and went to the window, he looked down at the latch then straight into the jester like face of the rabbit. it smiled at him with grungy teeth, his hair was matted at one ear fell over his face like a mad man's hair. the rabbit lifted the window and crawled in the house. sol was shocked he thought he was dying and this was death. the rabbit stood almost a foot over sol, so it was atleast 6'5". sol started to gasp for air, and grab his throbbing head, the rabbit seemed a minor character compared to the pain he was feeling. the rabbit got in sol's squeezed red face and said "hiya sol, we gonna be gooooood friends" with a smile. sol caressed the blackness that started to seep into the picture, he cuddled with the numbness that ensued and he fell to the floor spurting blood from his nose as he went. the looney tunes theme played in slow motion in his head. he slept, gargling on blood.

March 23, 2005 - Wednesday

sol finished up in the bathroom. something bad had happened, sol knew it. it was almost morning and the diner had closed at nine the night before. the morning shift would be in soon. it wouldn't be the first time sol had still been there. sol wet a dirty rag hanging on the sink and wiped up the blood he had left on the table. he grabbed his apron and went out the back door into the cool air. around the side and up the stairs into a very short hallway with he and his neighbors door, he could hear the neighbors music, still up partying he supposed. key, lock, click he opened the door. there was a running sound the whole place was shaking. all sol saw was a flash of bright silver and a yellow smile, then he was on the ground, he had been smashed in the face with his toaster, the blood dripped off onto the linoleum. sol watched as a puddle gathered. the rabbit got on top of him and turned his face to his, sol caught a whiff of the stench from the rabbits rotten orafice and wanted to vomit. the rabbit licked sols forehead, sol cringed as he felt the rough animal tongue drag across his face like slimy sandpaper. the rabbit grabbed sol's feet and dragged him into the apartment. somehow this totally fucked up situation seemed somewhat normal to him. he was getting used to this hate/hate relationship that had formed over the months. sol hated the rabbit because it tortured him and stole his time from him. the rabbit hated sol for no reason except for his ability to resist the rabbits demands. although there had been lots of mental torture, and a little physical torture lately the rabbit had yet to leave sol in such a delapidated state. the rabbit heaved sol onto his shoulder and took him to the bedroom, and dropped him onto the floor. went out and pushed something against the door. as he lie there the room spun slightly. the light slipping throught he window from the neon newels sign. the room was dark empty and dirty, there was only an old matress on the floor with a well used blanket on top of it. a dresser by the window with an old wind up alarm clock. there was a small closet with a broken sliding door that was always open showing his overflowing boxes and thrift store clothing collection. sol coughed up blood and crawled toward the door.

March 26, 2005 - Saturday

as he inched forward on the stained hardwood floor the room was spinning. he could hear the telivision in the next room playing loudly, sounded like a western. how many demon bunnies are watching westerns at four in the morning he thought. pain was like a strobe light in his body eminating from his face. his left eye was swollen and he couldn't see. he made it to the door, twisted the handle but it wouldnt budge. the rabbit must have put something there to stop his escape. sol slid back onto the floor and rolled over onto his back. he closed his one good eye and thought for a moment about this fucked up situation. he needed to get strength back, so he could break the door down. first he needed a weapon. was there a baseball bat in the closet? he couldn't remember, but it was worth a try. after sol felt he was getting some energy he stood up slowly balancing himself on the wall and walked toward the black closet. he got to the door and looked inside. what a mess, he wished he was more organized. he reached down and moved a box. lifted a pile of clothes and tossed them out. at the bottom was an old iron. he picked it up to judge the weight. he wanted something a little heavier, but he supposed this would do. he turned around and saw something on the ground behind him. it looked like a dog with no head leaning back, he could even see gleaming white teeth. a low growl came out of it. sol gripped the iron tight in his hand. the thing leaped forward sol stepped to the side and brought the iron down on top of it. the thing collapsed completely and seemed to deflate. it was his old turtleneck sweater. sol gripped his head and said 'what is wrong with me'. he dropped down on his butt, and slid away from the sweater into the corner of the room. the sweater rose up on the arms and the neck hole looked toward sol. where the hole should be he saw teeth and just above them some eerie red eyes. the sweater seemed to be foaming. sol started to cry.

a page from the development of mental illness

March 28, 2005 - Monday

Current mood: lonely
lonesome cold east. frigid and empty to say the least. fight for fuel that runs the beast. twisted directions with too many dead ends. samplilng simplicity but it always extends. happiness is home and home is my friends. struggle for what you want to see, all that I want is satisfaction in me. sadness and madness indefinately. alter my state, but i can not seperate, my mind from the idea of wanting to wait. something will come, but what can i become, shadows are cast as i watch the rise and fall of the sun.

Afghan Files salernonsense

March 1, 2006 - Wednesday

so i sang in the bunker all day. nothing else to do in this place that is growing older with every minute. it's kind of sad how much my mind has grown in a place with nothing. maybe thats why god gave us brains, to combat boredom. but as i listen to new music read new books and write new songs, somehow i feel my view on life is changing with every breath i take. a slow awakening of a part of me i never knew i could use before. i am taking in everything instead of just taking it and not digesting it. i am feeling a brighter broader range of emotion i didn't remember i had. so i don't want to be an ant. ants walk through thier lives bumping antenae never stopping to take in the moment of the confrontation. and we have become just that, ants. so stop it everyone. bump into someone and ask them what they love. everyone wants a chance to tell a total stranger what makes them happy, maybe they don't realize it or are too hardcore. but do it, just experiment. stop being the zombie that the world is slowly turning us into through consumerism. i don't know if thats a word or not but if not i just made it up damnit. drones amused only by what can be bought or sold. no sense of or own culture. i am a victim of losing track of what culture my ancestors took part in and what will my kids have, the same holidays that usually tend to be fucked up anyways, no history no memory of where we came from, ants dont have a clue where they came from. just a big white pussing sack called momma. help the world and make a history for your family if you don't have one. suprise everyone with a new lineage that ensures that the zombie nation will not be achieved. of course there will be idiots in the senate, the majority of the people are idiots, i dont know who said that but they were more true than i thought.