Today I'll tout my love of the impermanent, chaotic life ineffectively: 
bullets through the hypnotic waters of a dream, slowing but never stopping,
mocking in the shadows of doorways that I'll never quite make it through before I wake.
Impermanence doesn't fill a bed where thinking stops to rest a while, so feeling's free to tread,
and smug debate victory doesn't pull the sun above horizons b...

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Hereafter, we've lived the last few days
none of ours want to touch the shovel nor the spade,
It's best we stay loyal, here in the light brigade.
Six feet is deep enough for anyone, one can hope
signing the cross to pack the dirt to stifle the ticking heartbeats
One hundred hours of bootlaces and worm-tread: we were born to breathe such feats.

We're doing God's worst business.
We are the ...

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Roused by a stiff, stale air
pressing in like the bends
a hospital bed; a prison cell
you came to me like a scalpel
two-faced, three heads
that makes Six: this must be hell.

I've been churned over, remapped, flipped rightside-back by home surgeries to keep me shut away from you. I've spent countless days and sleepless nights, stitching closed the curtains that play with your phantom breeze...

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We are all suffering under the weight of your invisible boots, 
drones bred blind, humming and dancing for a pauper's pupetteer's ransom.
To see the sons of ours born promised, factory stamped to no one we've ever met;
To look up at the sky, here, so very small
is to fight wool in the icy Volga, blackened by the coal to fuel the drivers of our impending doom.
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spir...

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"Yep, she's stuck alright."

Nimbus, wet and heavy, we're staring at the chevy, stuck one foot too deep in a mud that's only going to get worse. Some snark comment gets passed between us, commenting on the soggy state of the soil and detritus staring back at us, almost with derision-- it's out of boredom and indecision that we try the manual way out.

He pops a stick of gum in his mouth. Light...

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Quiet and ashamed,
we carry a burden, so bright
this torch of the estranged
begging for that touch,
that familiar sting of bliss and pride,
cocaine sluts like us
rushing down to our knees, the thickest of our hide.

Lids fluttering in ecstacy
buried in the handprints of people better named our friends,
their taste still on our lips like smoke
bounding away from the mirror, driven off
a...

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Bone-china alimony,
paid in teeth; a ceremony
for all you unborn kids
your soft bones of xanax
firing, knees-jerking
at the guns that won the west.

Dies lost and recast,
gambling on the hard and fast
grown up on the underdog
'that all in first now will later
end up coming in last--always'
Then our heroes drowned in hallways
Shame nor fame makes no difference to the dead
the all-brea...

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I couldn't fairly call it a slave name if I took it back, wrested from the hands.of the carrot holders and used to batter fear into the cattle prodders. It was born into me and I kept it out of spite, in memory of who put me on these two feet, here, now, carving a niche into the cold marble world or medicated indifference.

Today I dreambt of others better wasted, none as softly earned as mine t...

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getting shot 

doesn't make you a hero.

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Brandishing the side-eyes, luck's a trifle,
Momma taught me better, except
nothin' better than itchy fingers on a rifle.
On your knees, never tasted like Oedipus,
use your stagename, run and try with us.
You sick fuck; You suck fick
thick and torn, a tongue named razor
eyes full of scorn, coerced so aptly
innocence mourned.
Baby I could eat your lips, the way you hurt
O', how I'd bury yo...

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'Ready for our anti-date?'
that forked tongue-and-cheeky bastard greets
in a tuxedo, silk as aramaic soup
the handshake feeds, its army eats.

Freedom reigns in olive drab,
never seen pyre colonies so brave
burning more in protest than defeat
machine gods lighting ants, killed stillgrave.

It's for a good we'll never know,
Five-six-six can't cut both ways
Blueprint blood can leave in t...

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She a real painter's sunrise, done up in cherry smoke and brush stroke. I draw her in my mind like she's always been here and I haven't -- a thousand lines like chinese print signs, banners screaming out in the night:
"Why god, can't I fit my hands around you
Why can't we make what's come and gone, what's been so wrong
makes its rounds like opium come to put it right?" 

Instead, I'll be a st...

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Parrots parroting parrots;
It's no wonder why most all of everyone has those long minutes looking in the mirror, wondering what all of this is for. Questioning life as it is to be a redundancy. Whole generations of people living reflexively to the shadows cast onto them by their mothers and fathers, ignorant to even their ignorance in an age of information, walking forward with cement shoes.

W...

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Porcelain,

A feat of breathless repose,
frozen in flight -- your opalescent demi-gloss--
I wish they could bottle this feeling so I could 
have a dose at a time that would let me keep my breath.

Glass,

Stained pure fervor against the window,
filtering the light of your god into mine;
Infectious red, framed with lead
or a noble blue, concealing daggers
of sin in this holy sea bedsid...

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2am.

(1) 
"An indifference cuts lazily and deep: a sawhorse of my spine and yours pressed togheter in a pine box.

six feet down, with our watches ticking on our chest, where there's no breath, and no light, we echolocate back to back. We just find walls and worms. Our composition decomposes. 

Apatyh is a weapon best served cold on the end of a pointed silver tongue. Sometimes I put it do...

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A coat of petty words, so finely groomed and worn,
against the thick november fog, walking the road torn
tentatively by forgotten anniversaries and tartar sauce.

My god, Bourbon, you're a fine-toothed, shark-toothed comb
circling down the drain, a yellow submersible
of pureblood grain
Burning in an engine with two gears; vanilla and plain. Reheated pain,

Cacaphonous ringing in my head, ...

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Pig's iron, shining on the dead eye's pistol. 
Forged soft in the furnace of Manilla summer nights.
Even Kingpin's dreams can go awry, much like holding a world's weight in sand
worth just as much as you can't seem to hold.

What a miserbale business this is.
Deadening the nerves, overflowing with checks and balances;
Component after component, traded, bought, and sold, for little pieces of...

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You shouldn't take life so serious. It's a joke. So fuckin' laugh, and walk hard on your left leg limp. 
Alliteration; the allegory of alleged allegiance, all-knowing nouns denounced by the mouth of a brown cow, now. How? In hubris and husbandry, hovering as heretics and hermits with lips hermetically sealed like the seals in tin can tuna -- Viva alla, vie la ata fortunata fortuna.

I can half ...

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On the westmost banks of nowhere, come live in Aldergrove. 
Come live where pastel cars 
and pastel homes get buried in the stove. 
In ash fortresses we come to learn the late Earl Grey,
the butcher bill, donning a manleather apron; he applies
the flavored lipstick of the day. 
'Cause man's a zoo, out there where freedom rings,
Bittersweet, when burning hair smells like home,
and each and ...

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How would you remember me, the king of crows and carrion? 
The flickering, waving seconds of relativity; 
a muse's metronome beading on and off in notepad-dot-tee-ex-tee. Dot eee ex ee. Hours pass like minutes pass like days, 
and we'd waste away; 
a thousand flies deep of laying on our throats to scarcely meet each other's hands.
We can-- we can! 
The wretched pile of vices caught in the tr...

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Take another bite at me,
my muscles nice and loose
ten years too sore

Twist me with your worst grin,
make me yours, I dare you
a bite of the apple in my core.

Everyone leaves their mark,
a disfiguring opinion
coming together like scissor blades.

I wasn't born your god damn snowflake,
but I fear I'll die that way
strung up, in holiday parades.

Replace me, darling one,
no shirt ...

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What can you buy on a streetcar named desire?
What can you buy for hapenny-pence?
God damn, do I ever miss you,
The charcoals of my innocence.

Fleeting promise and sleeting rain,
we never said goodbye
with dynamite between your teeth,
and rifle pointed high.

A marksman of a thousand yards,
that sick Cupid on his sinew bow
Love's undead draught, a thousand miles
So I can fall down at...

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Come back to the alley, baby;
Come back to where we lost our innocence running, 
moving like drunk lightning through a forest of broken needles
until we were more stitches than people.

Strung out;
Like gruesome puppets,
addicted to home surgery and dollhouse tea parties.
Living vicariously in a single serving world that
prewraps all of us, lovingly,
with the kiss of a factory stamp.

...

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Our marching feet cut a track in the dirt, half way to hell; god damn, is this going to hurt?

There's hardly a ladder out, in this world of rat'smen,
cut into two, we're already walking in this grave.

We're all the knives in each others' backs, us,
The dying and the brave.

Eyes awake, wide and stern;
Livid and lidless lullabies.

If I lived life of callous, sparks, and boots,
this m...

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The book;

The book is a desperate friend.
A Villain,
a product of intoxicating this clumsy, broken vase.
The sad coals, smoldering
in the hearth of this old man's body, weighed down like lead
against the tides of rationalization.

Nothing drinks colder than a detached, ironist's laugh.

Our mind, together, remembers the heart.
So it pays its tithes,
and "doth" revives,
the stumbling...

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A fingernail flipping up, or hanging, or a scratched cuticle; a sore in your mouth or on the tips of your fingers.

That's what it's like to know truth, and live a lie, day in and day out. To be one of a million instead of one in a million. 

It doesn't hurt to say goodbye the same way you expect a fall to hurt, and leave you breathless; to leave you wheezing, pathetic, and reeling. You expect...

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Paint me in all your lovely brushes, honey.
Feed me all of those pseudo-smiles, and late night lonelies.
Ain't a fuckin' thing much funny, honey.
We gonna be done if blackjack's chance.

Let me use you up, my darlin', my love
Let me sing this song to you.
'Stead of painting the town blood blood red,
Let me paint you corpse noble blue.

No one wins thumbs when you're around,
all bets are...

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No, no he wasn't. No I wasn't, I mean.

I am an heir. We are all heirs to the wastes. We're all the kings of stale christmases and rusty oil rigs, you see? I am, more than most, an heir to rickety hip bones; an heir to malformation and malignment, apathy and home surgery. We were and are, all glorious heirs to your poison. We were and are, heroes of villainy. We are the unfortunate, the proud, t...

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No, I didn't wake up today. 
I laid in bed with my eyes open, dreaming those petty, pleasurably nostalgic treasures--dreaming warm little knicks in my valves, knots in my veins, and lumps in my throat.
Dreams are cyclic, they say. Time is cyclical too, some say. It only makes sense that this snake eats its tail, day in and day out over what could've been. But worse, it gets sick on itself over w...

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‎"Don't you neesd somebody to love?"
No, you don't. 
This is a contrived impossibility; A scare tactic, pulling from the human fear that is fragility and subjective moral responsibility. It is the weight of our human brain upon animal desire, blended nicely with centuries of Haves telling Have-Nots; It's a fucking quagmire. Then one day, when you come to rest, you finally learn what mother knew ...

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You and me, we're creatures of the night. 

All the things in my life are covered with a thick layer of dust. Motes and radiowaves, from our skin to our skeleton. We are brilliant at night, when no one can tell why our outline is just a blur. That's when all things are just a blur. 

The daylight hours, we are dumb and slow; we're hungover memories and broken piano keys. We're a black keyboard...

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Red.

A sea of it ablaze,
Silent in their innocence.
A thousand youths amazed.

Seduced by radio and print,
Stalks bending in the wind.
The eyes of politicians glint.

Pulled through the mud; roots revolt.
Conditioned cold and hard.
You live and learn the bayonet, 
and the actions of the rifle bolt.

You get no letters, have no time to read,
Lips caught up in death's boat's snare.
...

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Bleed, cowards, bleed;
For your art and properdom and punctual punctuation.
For your canvas and your ink bottles, and those extra sleeves
to wear over your heart.
And those sentences that start with a voice, just to lose their humanity, running
on and on and on and on and on.

My teeth grind, like gears in a stasis, observing my sweat
and fervor. My crimes of ending sentences in prepositio...

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Come on, my fellow lowest common denominators! Let us be, live, breathe, bleed, breed-- all as superior inferiors. Standing seperate? For who? Or should I say for whom? Or should I say, manchild womb? 
Yes. Factory fresh with a serial number and expiration date! Picked, plucked, and packed at the peak of perfection! Sprayed and spayed with all those delightful additives and addictives and adjecti...

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My child.
My one and only. 
Your edges are mine. 
Your innocence plays at this old leather face in the wind.

My heartbeat; the engine for the rudder made of skin stretched too tight on me.
For you, it's a perfect fit. It's perfect music. 
Your hand fits in my hand, marrow in my core.
I go soft and hollow for you, malleable to your presence. 
We are humble warm eyes, meeting for the first...

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Bottle half full, bottle half empty. 
The man who associates with bottle lusts,
Desperate for its cool curves in his ever-diminishing grip.
How he yearns,
By the most desperate association in his throat-loans from,
The Goose-Necked apparition.
For the first bitter, warmth of a kiss.
Of a mem'ry. 

He swallows.
He breathes.
He drowns, in contempt and temprustness,
TEMPESTRNUNUSS. One He...

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You are the orange dust between my fingernails. 
The yellowed teeth of my decay, 
the fall of a legacy and lasting dynasty. 

The red mist in my stare; on my breath.
The swirling, toxic paranoia spinning webs and shouting names,
and the cutting, bleeding mechanism that I could never shake.
And will never break, though many times it will break me.


Yes, you my friend:
the fake handshake...

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Moonlight, starlight; potatoes and potato blight.
Green grass, high tides, slow dance and fast rides.

Vagabonds and crooked teeth, clear eyes and oceans of life, unite under one house; one house with many banners.
Fists crack soundlessly, agelessly. Steps flex against the thin strips of time.

This is a time for us.

A time to love without a care, exact one-shot courage-- Revenge. 
To be...

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"It's possible to be at a point in your life where you have too many scars, or not enough scars."

I have no sympathy for you, you soft knuckled ape.

Mouths agape, a bear trap for demeaning sociality,
fake smiles and ember eyes,
catch the draydel betting
2:1 for split pea lies.

Hands are gnarled, but nails are trim,
Hat empty, but pints full to brim.
Jaws wired hard,
but man-tooth sa...

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Mass upload of all the letters I've kept around, in chronological order. Here goes:

'Kink AKA Jay Leno 0000'

Innocuous and inoculated,
but never innocent; never fully immune.
Breath caught frozen beneath 
an indifferent and proud powdered moon
ground down in lines to make
my eyes crest red, like family
Blood thick and hot like a stranger,
running in sleepy molasses.
A stranger like m...

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