NOTHING BUT THE END INSIDE OF ME
I grow Mom's erection to flatten lost paradises
On t-shirts on dead fingers on their lunch breaks.
For miles are goat mailboxes stuffed with recipes
Always hot blue tarps mix with mermaid spermicide.
Dad's boiled saliva smells my easy lifetime.
Earlier, it wore Autumn Sonata as fresh underwear
While sailing the rotting sunflower sea
Toward Trakl's black mouthed yellowing olive tree.
A thousand videos of cobwebs punched in their stomachs
Is everywhere I've been and nowhere I've gone.
I look outside garbage bags five times a day.
Nothing but the end inside of me counts every beautiful thing I see.
FERTILE AND BARREN
Pasta in limbo.
Laundry in limbo.
I have no income.
A washcloth walks faster
Than ample blank flowers.
I feel insane when I get into bed.
Digested shrimp age calmly.
They pick a postcard from my guts.
Shrimp recount their remains to shrimp pussy faraway.
An erased mouse has chapped lips.
I live like it lives.
I used to be more friendly.
The two windows on my wall
Bleed the best sauce,
Bleed people at their regular table.
People are basically snippets
Of the stuffed donut-thing they’re searching for.
Race riots emit the odor light poles love.
Kissing light poles is getting weirder.
Emails talking to me tomorrow
Simply want more time outside.
My days have too many hours in them.
Gandhi swallows a gallon, Mandela swallows a tub.
Writing shit about cum for the rich is not art.
This September, a super-soldier fucks Confucius.
This October, celery smiles like shitting sprees arrested for shoplifting.
3 counts of attempted shellfish iffiness
Develop a case of breastfeeding anorexic tadpoles.
In the style of stab wound epilepsy,
A shadow's shitting spree was another of the twin towers
Evaporated when a young white girl made the show more sellable.
A tan of bladder-like eyeballs on Confucius
Suffocates the allotted croaking of frogs.
In October, the super soldier's dad fucks bulimic shotguns.
In November, French fries and defined arms are pregnant.