Finger painting.

How it feels to come alone.
tip-toeing over the internets anonymous love letters.
the way broken glass gives my feet long deep hugs.
theme songs for pets playing trash hockey with pictures
i drew when i felt something bluer than those skies
when the days had a fresh hue to them.
Like every day was 1997.


The dreamer
blowing the ballasts
on my afternoon submarine.
I am the chlorine crocodile
Floating in self loathing
and beer cans second gadget manifestation
of cigarette kamikaze receptacle.

Handsome as hammers.
i am the factory worker of your dreams.
saving frogs from street cars
and appearing negatively optimistic .
 i slumber in the sheets of the void
til a little past noon.
Wrestling with my demons leaves rest
unsatisfied.
I fall to the floor
digging in piles of dull colored
 machine washed scumbag armor.
for my first magic trick.
How to turn a boy in to a stone age smokestack.
Cromagnon man reinventing the wheel on the north side of town.
Where the weird looks
and "faggots" flows out  passing windows.

I fall in triumph
to the pavement with the thrill
of my heart beating like ten thousand,
thosand suns merged in to one small place
i get up and i go over it
again.
the hue is illuminating
i am skinned knees
and in my center.

I talk about it with her over shitty coffee.

I have probably written
enough pages of misspelled words
and poorly written feelings
of my misspent youth
jerking off in the shower to flash backs
of wet tits
and fingers gliding
as sensually as my clumsy hands could maneuver.
i bite my lip and bang my head against the tile
as I cum too soon with a dull ended feeling.

"Was it worth it."
I always ask myself...

I play back so many days of my life
I imagine myself sitting in
a shitty movie theater in my own head.
Sticky floors,
Smoke filled,
Broken seated,
Condom cupholder.

I cant be too harsh.
Some nights are better than others.
Like the night the power went out.

I am eccentric
a gypsy fortuneteller told me
last week...

My moon is in the death house.
"What the fuck, true."
 My moon is always in the death house.. 

I figured nine cigarettes for a balanced breakfast.

i am always in constant peril.

Always almost out of last chances
or free spins.
Almost always falling behind
hanging on by the strongest thread.

You stop checking your mirrors
looking over your shoulder pedaling
rush hour cave man.
Wrong  century for a wandering spirit.

I guess your not afraid of going.
Just afraid of being trapped
in tight small places.
watching home movies
cumming on sore bookmarks
in your journals creases 


This probably makes no sense.
...................................................
yea... nothing. nevermind.

A day.

Morning.

The cold chills
that wash down
your rosary pebbled backbone.
You lean forward taking the gasp of morning air.
It comes
delayed and cursed
as your pentagram gut sloshes forth
releasing the blood of our savior all over
the cigarette burned carpet.

I am alive...

-------------

Day.
 
The heat radiates
exploiting my disability
of muscle powered teleportation.
An illness of sitting still too long
thinking.
what if...?
You caught me doing it again.
 I am a ashamed of being so distant
but i am a candidate for the first cosmonaut
to set foot on the sun contest.


-------------
Night.

You feel my blood
slither in reverse
returning like snakes
from the third eye
in my wizard palm.

spinning coins
games of chance
will i make it
head is high
 tails your life is shit.
how many mulligans is regulation
are in my daily prayers
To the man upstairs.
Wishing i could pick the lock
of st peters gate.
just to hear ghost stories
by Alfred Hitchcock
put me to sleep
like it was ninteen eightynine..
before the magic sunglasses
stopped working.

I still stay up late.

Curses and Evolution

Scattered swarm
buzzing stinging
summer breezy
vacant eyed
cromagnon ice blocked
bitter boxed
and empty bagged
pretending to be a human
going places
being.

I have time to kill
that i borrowed
from dangerous jars
under my bed
full of ghosties
and ghoulies
that disengage me

Detached thoughts
like tornadoes in your shower drain
turning in a tunnel of endless waste
asking why when im flailing my arms
hoping Final Destination XII stars an
unsuspected no-named man
riding his bike into oncoming traffic
and deaths fingers are twitching in my
already shifty gears

snatching out the lights
like the last blown bulb
in a good idea factory.

If i was stronger like you
 id be self reflecting and repaving
my new identity still
drying with empty ass prints
from the lazy kids
i get desperate enough
to let shit all over me.

Im doing my best to keep
a smile on this jagged tooth mouthpiece
killing enough beers and weed
to make a highschool party
want to cut open my rib cage
and find out where the home my heart
is snowed in is.

On some rare occasions
i feel a subtle vibration come from
an empty space where they say
your restless soul lives
in a vegan cafe
profound kind of way 
that gets pussies so wet
thinking you're deep til they get disappointed
fifteen minutes after netflix vomits some monstrosity
and you realize you just dont wanna die alone.

And now im not so sure i wanna die
with watching eyes.
 An audience or an echo are going to get me the same hell
for the things ive done
and thought
and manipulated
and maneuvered
and wrecked
and crashed
and burned for.

I will always be shipwrecked
on some fucking coast
with cracked knuckles
shifty glances
looking back fondly on the five year stretch
of handsome youth i squandered
being trusting and caring

Forged by holy fire
and jesus blood
constructed out of
hexed wood
from doomed voyages
in to the brave new world.

I am
the way i was made to be.

 

Interdimentional Shift

Amalgamated creature
double feature
censured southern son.
Culling the midnight black
from the fading sky.

Vacuum space apartment
the gods playing pool
downstairs ball bust
through the night
swinging cigar comets
wizard smoke pours through
the floorboards of my Sanitarium
Planetarium

Slowly my quicksand fingers
ring the evaporating glass,
telekentic echoes
like heartbreaking wifi.

25
still alive
and in love
with dead people.

I get up everyday with the faint taste of blood
and shakey teeth
from biting off more than i can chew
and wrestling for life in the lions den
of my dreams.

Such an eccentric boy
filled with confusion
gamma rays
and a black box
filled with more
I.O.U's
and im sorry's
weekly trips to the sun
dumping feelings into the sea
is a fulltime chore.

Red sea
apollo-gizer
a million times the speed of light
drifting deeper
where days blur together
and you dont sleep
you lean back in cane furniture
craning your head
with a dying cigarette
reflecting on the times i could have did things different
and
the exact moments
where they went wrong
as you drift off at the wheel
of your cerebral mothership.

Den of Bears

A short story.

Soundtrack:

---
Water slides
through her silk roots.
The warden of the cold sun she was.
Feathers and fox blood
flowing from the chalice
tipped back
she was the deity of destruction

Wolves fur mantled over
her thin frame,
plastered firmly
around her milk white shoulders.
When she walked
the ground blighted
and burned
never to bare fruit
for endless seasons
the curse looms
in roman numerals.

Salt of the earth,
Hair of the moon-gazer
so black it swallowed the light.
the wind howled over her cracked skin.
A desert that never ended
but ended many deserters
who challenged the thorns
which hedged her exterior.
Like an oasis of beauty
pumping toxic waste from
the breast of the earth mother.

Snake venom taster
leviathan heart .
Neurosis catcher
Dream crusher.
Boulder thrower
going
to the dead gods.

Return to sender son.
raised by wolves
Wandered the sand
leaving layers of peeled skin
in footsteps
that are lost among faux waves
of never ending.

Foe waves,
i return dagger stares.
spit in-between exhausted breathes.
Tired of pulling these rattling chains.
haunting myself.

I have come in search of loving shelter.

She smirks a dead smile.
"I am the den mother"
piled bones,
A throne of misery
she sits back and reclines
semi-sided and draws her thin
long slender finger to a curl
extending it repeatedly
drawing me in.

Her nostrils flared.
exhaling visible breathes.
eyes fixed
an unbroken stare.
A specialty for finding old wounds
and feasting on the vintage
of time cured wine.

Her eyes fade from focus in ecstasy.
her belly swelled and sloshed
as she threw her hair back and laughed
letting the last drops fling upward
and back down across her face
running down her chest into
thighs.

"You are nothing
i am everything.
I am the end
as you are my morning.
I am filled
as you lay empty"

True.

"You have traveled an eternity
as i have never moved.
You have exhausted
as i am insatiable
and have sustained."

True.

"Say something!
How scared it feels....
To be alone,
To be consumed
To be cast aside
"

i am not scared
because dying
isnt everything.
i am not alone
because you are here.

Her eyes begin to widen
as she senses everything
isnt as it should be.

i too have drank venom
under the red moon

She begins to feel the aching
in her stomach grow stronger with each passing word
as her precious blood slowly
begins to flow out from her still flared nostrils,
they begin to relax. . .

I too have challenged the gods
and fought long cold nights.
In search of others
and others found me.
slinging stones
and shattering bones
instead of giving me shelter
in homely arms
and pillow chests.

I was never finished,
crawling further to an ending
where the hollow sound
drowns out your agony and spite
as you are snared by your own doings
and only you
would collapse on to knees
and know that just the opposite
has taken hold.

though it is cold
and i am alone
and my hand is shaking
i am not afraid

Yes i am
here mortally snatched
in passing
with empty belly
while you sit full
and feasted of pestilence.

Her eyes begin to roll back
as she makes final pleas.

for i am nobody and my life
is just your day.
Im sorry
but this day is eclipsed.
You will never see the light
or feel its warmth again.

and
Yes i will die
here today
but not before

the end...

You
cum way
harder than you
want to
when thinking about
the people you
hate the most.