Sunday, April 20, 2014

A Black Tree


More female than woman, I've seen the Youtube video,
Less high than dog shit rolled in grass clippings.
I stay away from doctors and children and
It saves my sanity, life and money.
I'm miles from home, where shoes are scarce and teeth are even scarcer.
It takes the place of a penis in my dreams.
But coming back is necessary. And who's that coming up to meet me?
It's me being being dead, I be sand.
Last Friday night. Rachel calls herself an absolute pubic hair.
She lists me
Drinking all night, buying whiskey after beer from her small hand.
I want to smell her pussy.
Rachel smokes
Arms with various moles.

Angels show me how to wear snark.
Music is bulging. Trust the licking.
I've fucked everyone gone mad,
Taken their diet tips from a gunshot wound to the head.
I have that funny feeling I'll be the sand. Suddenly,
A fat slut explains to a friend how to fuck another friend.
Then I'm real cool for the rest of the night.

Fat sluts talking demand I stop fighting.
When they want a system I'm right there with them.
I smell lost lovers
From inside my body, beaching as left hands that never shook.
I'm aware of their reason.
They're just another show to be forgot.
I look beyond my disinterested lymph node. 

I see my brother find love.
I see my sister pass to her children a day beyond compare.
I buy Rachel's dog shit life so I'm not forgot,
Like we once made a life together.
I complete all the things I want to get done.
Sweating crowds cum in me and I cum in them,
Putting chairs on the missing link. 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Two Poems


Once upon a time a mannequin wore a chemical suit and sold itself for $600. I bought that mannequin and its manager too and invited them to munch on my feet. They lived as concubines and we hit the clubs three nights a week, danced and flung our shit in the direction of cameras. Gorgeous tragedies paid so much attention to us. We loved to fling shit to the lines of the poor.

I heard at another club someone was abducted. These days, I have a dinner plate smothered with gravy.

Gravy from inside of me. 

My hotel room needs to survive. There's a knock and it's strong. A misadventure-fresh knock from a fat silhouette. I draw back the curtain. A moustache and mouth come inside my head. I am dressed as a blackhole clipped pole star with pingers for lips.

"Dave here?" asks the moustache and mouth.
"No one here." I say.
"Where's Dave hiding? Where is you hiding Dave?" moustache man replies with a pounce of glassy annoyance.
"No one here!" in sleepy cigarette breath.
"Dave promised to be here today." His mouth begins to rape:
"Dave is something I want. Dave takes showers with my wife. There is no meaning in my spine."
I stand away from my breath. Sweat appears inside my ears.
I say "I know nothing about anything you have to say."
"If Dave comes out of your head tell him my wife needs him." He fears being without distinction.
I suddenly realize neither of us remember speaking.
"You know Dave?" The moustache and mouth realizing they don't belong.
"No." I answer, realizing time does not exist.
The one who doesn't belong says "Sorry to bother you. Take this soda from my pocket." And
It's the abducted body buried. 

There's nothing but laughter for nothing ever after.


As a credit card user I thaw 
Viper fog, this is
The best of my dick moves.

I'm cleaning the temple of
Heavy soil, critical junk.
I've a heartbeat whenever I want.

Flat whales and monkey's biting,
I'm never going to sleep.
I've a garbage bag whenever I want.

I've gone on and on and smell the face of spines.
My easy lifetime after an unknown 

Paper towels never going to sleep
Wait up for me.
Saliva waits up for me.

It murders my badly advised want.
Outgrown riots splash follow buttons
Upon the temple walls like larva.

Windows take minutes.
By time I'm amused.
I take a dump of hand stumps wherever I want.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

2 Poems


Friends squirm 25 miles a day, with nothing else to show from this life. It's my alarm signaling the future of stew. That's the kind of thoughts I've got. I link ordinary creeps.

I think in terms of disappointment and concern for 25 miles of squirm. Warranties covering friends' urns. I tell my life its abrasions are complimentary and necessary. Nurturing signposts inherently wrong.

I look outside the window and it drives me insane. Sexy teens next door are disposing of the sweet intimacy of void. Minds and mental things persist. Caves under swallowed seas drink 3 black and tans the cops shot.

Friends look outside their caves 5 times a day. I think in terms of anyone who'll have me. By stew I'm desired. I tell the kind of thoughts I've got to take a break and think about tits. Tits present a similar case as a church far away. They squirt my squirm and outlive the disdain.


My meat changes
In the study where I drink.
The only things it wants to be are
Accessories reaching their
Uncensored, erotic, and private end.
In the studio where I paint
A dark bliss lays my skeleton.
I put my cock in my skeleton.
My skeleton steals my heart.
In the serpent where we're lovey
I'm up to my neck in teeth.
And I've got to have her next to me cause
I'm reading the Gospel of Luke on acid:
The dry baby.
The scream stain.
The quick creature.
The muscle rush.
The white slug.
The dry journey.
The slug's bone.
The lint nest.

And my sins lust
The soaked hole,
The white bush, 
The rearranged body temperature
In the study where I grant myself.
The Gospel of Luke starts breathing.
My skeleton's my happy ending woman.
Dark bliss lies her on her stomach,
Accessorized, erotic, and virtual.
I pound out of need.
I reach my stain.
I'm fond of the inane. 
Serpents recede.
The slug's bush is
My bones to come.
I praise 
My mouth buttfucked.
Now I sorta see
Too many presents. 
I'm harder and dumber than ever,
Like a common dream.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

5 Poems @ gobbet

I've 5 new poems @ the mighty gobbet

There are lessons to learn, that's true.