You know that you have climaxed when the poetry ceases and the walls become a room again.
I was once on the beach and the moon had wings, there was a certain tribal logic to it
The arrangement of bodies
Who speaks to whom and when, it has a geometry
There are flowers and there are rocks and there are clouds
If you are not a flower or a rock or a cloud I don't think I know what to do with you
Maybe that's why I treat you like you're not existing.

When I was younger I had certain traintrack fascinations
I could contemplate the possible arrangements of pieces on a chessboard and what language could be used to describe them
It was only many years later that I realized that chess was a language, and that there wasn't much you could do with that.
In the end all I was ever really doing was walking home.

Are you the prettiest one here?
Are you sure that you are or are not the prettiest one here?
I have always struggled with the prettiest one here, they are a difficult concept.
I don't have a lot of ugly friends because I'm very superficial
I don't think that any of my friends have noticed this, because I don't have many friends with big self esteems
What does a big self esteem need friendship for? They have a big self esteem
Most of my friends are broken down bottom-trawlers with pretty faces and bad memories
I am good for them because I don't favor their scarred wrists or eye shudders
They are good for me because they look good to me
I guess this is okay.


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In reply to:

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I guess this is okay.

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I am extremely superficial but they never let me be the superficial freak that I wanted to be because there were too many superficial freaks that did too many awful things in this world.

Mother Theresa, Hitler...they were all human beings. But they weren't and I knew that because They killed My dog.

And they made me 50 years older because they said I was pretty and smart but they also called Him pretty and stupid for wanting to live his life. And when I saw pictures of him in his childhood, I saw pictures of me. And then I started talking to strangers and hitch hiked and wanted to take pictures of myself with all of the dangerous people I met and how they all treated me like a human being for some reason and never objectified me by saying that I sound like his mother or her mother. Fuck your mother! And fuck you too!

There I said it. So what if I sound like my mother? Fuck my mother, she's a menstruating bitch like all of us. But the phone never rang and I'll cry myself to sleep on the couch before He wakes up. Because he is a He and the Mother is hurting for him as well.


My ass belongs on your face.

I enjoy to intercourse your language. It makes me foul the rotten things, and that is probably for the best.

When you write, are you thinking of virgin? When you write I see manifesto, which is like being written but I think there is something between your muscle and bone. Have you had an empty cavity? Do you know the mix?

I can't see your problem but that is the charming foreign I think. Is it really matter that I am talking to myself? Have I alcohol or is it wonder.

I think you look fine in your winter jacket. You know?

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That's why I sent it to you. I can't talk English like that anymore.

I still don't understand it but then I don't understand any other human language either. I'm lost.

Did you find me already or are we gonna meet in 50 years again?

My ass belongs on your face.

I just poured over
3 years of my memories
and within all the lust
love desire failure sin
trumped emotions and abandoned dreams
I saw nothing of me

but saw in every awkward elegy
in every failed allegory

an uncomfortable pressing of my sex against your thigh
smooth and soft
yet cold
to everything I tried to hide
just to try to get inside your legs
and feel what was within
knowing it would disappoint
but expecting a miracle
something to save me

save me from myself

but alone I wrote these memories

so alone they will go on

alone I wrote these memories

of a self that is now gone

Like ossein splinters disturbing my frame
in bursts of red light, even green
Peculiar bites emblazon my face -
you will see them and might understand
Softer than words and harder than blows
from a mouth, a manus, a mother, all three
Ugly like violence and fire like hate,
unruly, the way it advanced unto me

Makes me feel fine, like fur on an infant
Makes me feel anxious, the prospect of "Victim"
Makes me feel fried, my insides are baking
My entrails are rising like sweet bread, and smoking,
foresaking my body and cruelly provoking
my heart to jump ship
through a forgiving rip
from the plank of my lung
to the tongue's crimson tip
The organ conveniently finding your lap
You're sniggering, shuddering, standing to clap
Now that you finally comprehend
the joke that I played on myself

Many girls want to be carnal with me... because I am such a premium dancer!

Now that's a horse of a different color!

A horse is a horse, Of course, of course!
When you bury your spurs, do you not feel remorse?
As the protons and neutrons in his color force
suffer a sudden and painful divorce,
do you see glue? Or the low intercourse
of gluons? Or is he a fair, Flying horse,
wild and vapor on the shores of Corse?
Of course, of course, a horse is a horse.

(I'm just seeing how much gratuitous rhyming it will take before someone calls me out on this.)

Many girls want to be carnal with me... because I am such a premium dancer!

When you ask my why
I don't think I could say
but you know the guy,
he's the one I cut down to size
but not so you can notice

I wouldn't say I was lonely,
just exploring different avenues
most of which have been cul de sacs,
I admit

But Bryan
I think his name was Bryan
with the red-wine stain birthmark and prematurely greying face

Well,
I showed him.

Didn't I?

A plan so cunning you could pin a tail on it and call it a weasel...

This is a song. I've directed it to Love. You can apply to anyone you'd like.

You respect me less for being your pawn
So do I, and it's burning my brain
You made it rain
Everyday this week
Everyday you failed to call this week, and..

Love, love, love, love, love
You're never, ever fun
I never, ever win
I always lose someone in the end

Say anything to make me feel okay
I can see nothing after today
You make me cry
Everyday of my life
Everyday you fail to save my life, and..

To love, I kneel
Please make me real
I cannot steal
your rolling thunder
But, when you go
I'll always wonder
where you went
and who is under
You, are cruel
You're cruel, but shiny
I would give to you
my money
I have the patience
of a mother
Don't you smile upon another

You don't cry, you don't laugh, you don't see
No, you hurt indiscriminately
You make me old
Everyday you pull
Everyday you pull my chance to hold you..

Love, love, love, love, love
You're never, ever fun
I never, ever win
I always lose someone in the end

Yeah, time's the great destroyer
Leaves every child a bastard
But when it finally takes us over
I hope we float away together