lines

freefall

2012-02-05T00:16:00.000-08:00

Im going to die someday,
my bones
are the only thing
keeping my organs in place.

a purging of the soul

2011-10-14T05:06:00.000-07:00

I was looking at my puke.
It was mainly water,
with things swimming in it.
It made me think of the ocean,
drowning, in a whole other world
that cannot care for your existence.
You simply become a part of it.

...

2011-09-19T14:26:00.001-07:00

The women we blame for the
bitterness of broken dreams,
yet salivate at the sight of raw meat.
We gather, clap our hands together
in thin drunken comradery,
each nursing ecstacy and yearning,
that humbles the most hardened face.

When she moans, she moans for me;
She must love, but her love has grown
increasingly vulgar and away from me.
Her passion, fingered and petted:
out on the street, chasing cars,
I wouldn't know what to do
with the real thing.

...

2011-09-19T01:01:00.000-07:00

Before panic, before scream,
Before terror reaches perfect oblivion,
children incinerate near the heavens :
in the unknowing sky,
in absolute magnificence,
in Man's endless endeavor.

...

2011-07-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

maybe it's the consistent
color of the squares
that makes me sad.
that, at best,
im no better than
above average.

Im letting the clock run.
every move i consider
makes me unworthy
of even resignation

broken record

2011-07-12T12:27:00.001-07:00

I want to eat the food that never ends
I want to get lost in sensations
I want the whole night,
nevermind the interstice
of window shades,
the promise and the anticipation -
always broken, that leads to no end

I got the song on repeat,
clinging, to the first time
like a hamster on its plaything

...

2011-05-02T16:11:00.000-07:00

Night extends relentless
Into the day,
The worst is still uncertain.
What remains,
Remains suspended -
The unfortunate morning,
Clouded w/ cigarettes,
And the perpetual stink
( of ashtrays)

Smoke still lines the room,
There is no breeze
And the phone doesn't ring.

The tide of indecision,
It pulls back and wavers,
Wavers with resistence.
The rhtymn of the ocean
Is enough to unsettle you.

Long for the 6:30 quips,
The ploys of pizza and marketing-
The plots about nothing.

That daily tickles him
And tickles her
And tickles you into perfect oblivion,
W/ reckless shoes
(and the remnants of TV trays))

Then into your room
you can retreat
In a smile
Out of which escapes relief;
And sinking softly
Into ur pillow,
You can sleep.

(resentment)

2010-09-27T23:46:00.000-07:00

You who think you're worldly,
not made for the kitchen sink.
Flexing muscles to keep you tight,
till you cock that weapon,
cock it tight!
Politicking like Bill in heat
till he knows that bird will sing -
What a pink lascivious thing!

the scenes i had not seen

2010-09-19T20:54:00.000-07:00

I said I loved you.
I grew to covet your skin.
Laying upon the sheets -
the foul stench of passion spent -
I didn't like the liberties
it had seen.

Your body,
no longer a symbol,
defining you
defining me.

Like sin upon which
I claim righteous authority -
I'd stifle the air you breathe,
I'd burn the books you read.

In dreams we acknowledge,
the only) truth of lovers:
that naked in bed, we lay
oh babe!
what else is there?

And those before us,
with whom we shared
our most private moments,
a lover always stays
your lover.

(a white flake, disintegrating)

2010-06-08T20:16:00.001-07:00

Everything is a distant memory
when you don't sleep.

Her picture on my screen -
She is silently waiting.

Her smile,
so warm and inviting...

there was something i was supposed to do

2010-01-19T16:42:00.000-08:00

Stunted growth, the tar I breathe,
I watch busy bodies starting off their mornings.

I was special once.
There was something I was going to do.

This little engine that could.
With fantasies in place
of daydreams, in place of everything -
even too little too late could have would.

If time is time and time is moving,
choices are habits that keep pace with you.
We live by the ones we make, then quietly fade
while people go about their day.

There was something I was supposed to do,
but this engine never moved.

...

2009-09-26T22:18:00.000-07:00

you are my heart
my wretched soul
you are all that I know

you are my precious
precious
precious

when i keep you
in a room
no one will find you

i have to feed you
to keep you alive

my precious
precious
precious

...

2009-09-11T23:28:00.000-07:00

would i could i love you
i would love you
forever, i think
i would love you
forever, i think

were it more than a fling
and i would embrace you
like I found you
i would give you my heart
my lonely heart

and you are the closest to free
were it more than a dream
if you were more than just me
you are my heart
my lonely heart

your memory is a worm in the dirt

2008-12-20T12:54:00.000-08:00

Your memory is a worm in the dirt
stuck in a hole in my head.

You're no longer a person,
but have grown into my mind,
like a demon or bad habit -
an impulse but with a blurry image.

Patterns manifest from trigger effects;
Images flash here or there,
as obscure as sensations,
though somehow they remain...

Lingering throughout the day,
a dulled distant dream,
once vulgar and scathing -
the daily pinpricks still remain:

I see a date on the screen,
that was before you were with me.
I see a girl on the street,
She is young and something obscene.
I see a date on the screen,
that was before you were with me.
Now you've grown and matured:
You're another woman,
who needs a man.
You're just a nymph to me,
on the porno screen.

whiskey in the evening

2008-09-16T23:44:00.000-07:00

I remember whiskey in the evening,
Clear and concise,
With just enough room at the top,
To follow the virtue or discipline in
Preserving for the next night’s sitting.

I remember Mersault and the Sun,
And reading under the sun,
So easy it was to be irrational,
And find it all meaningful.

And I remember Raskolnikov -
His theory of the Extraordinary -
And mimicking the drawn-out mumblings
Of a disgruntled consciousness.

I remembering reading:
Being an Optimist without Hope,
Bearing that chain around my neck,
Or finding salvation,
Through the mutterings
Of the Underground Man.

All so exciting and promising,
To an eager mind
As “Steet Spirit” would fade
Into the walkman in my mind.

the squishy balloon

2008-09-16T23:41:00.000-07:00

Get the hell off of my cherry!
What? What?
You must have misunderstood me…
Passion, art, fetish, fancy, all consenting.
What? I’m no better than a thief?
(you caught me peaking, so I’m the dirty one?)
I won’t run, or let you alone,
(un-protective) of your moonstone.
Oh, I just want to see you blow:
Blow blue, blue orange, blow cherry.
Soft skin wrapped in desperation
Fie! Around that squishy balloon -
Pure, silky, pale - Until it blows!
Red, blood-red, and the blood-red drapes.
In the House of Fidelity
In the flat of the burglary -
And on the sheets!
Inhale, exhale, and deep panting:
Blow in and blow out, up and down,
Work with it and it’s expanding...
like it’s elastic. But the skin...
And when it blows we will all go,
Come together, as though we’re one.
We’re done, we rest easy
(exhaling smoke seductively).
The skin remains in misery,
A scarlet stigmatized wretch,
Too far gone to contract -
Consent after consent,
Contract! God dammit,
The skin remains a wench.

Daily Failings

2008-09-06T02:33:00.001-07:00

I have trouble functioning daily in society,
on my feet, disgruntled discretely.
Faux pas and mispeaks,
(coming undone)
awkward and neurotic,
unstep half-steps repeated;
lulling and silent
solemnly:
the sullen king sulking,
insecure and uneasy,
smiling inconvienently.
Handshakes, although not weak -
Eyes estraying...
A tone
meager and for the meek.
(Not Failure, just daily failing.)
At least I didn't have a drink.

When in bed...

2008-08-30T02:38:00.001-07:00

Never propose
to a lovely girl -
nude,
she's on top of you;
watch her smoke,
her sexy French exhale;
she knows she's free
with you.

Tyrant

2008-08-30T02:35:00.000-07:00

You're prude and conservative,
and you bore me.
You'd make the perfect candidate
(for a wife) to serve
and abhor me.
I'd do well with you,
it is true -
I'd treat you royally
and rule over you with security.
You'd make the perfect candidate
(for a wife) to serve
and abhor me.

But you, liberal and sexually frank,
I must admit, scare me half to death.
You come with experience uncommon,
rooted out of naiveté exploited.
It is much harder to accept it,
than be the one to first exploit it.
I am not the One, but the next in line.
You say I am the one,
but there are daily pinpricks upon the mind.
I am a Man!
And should've been first on that land,
ruling, as a tyrant, over a people,
and you are a conquered land.

clarity

2008-08-27T00:38:00.000-07:00

we don't have the house on the hill
we never will.
this is ours
we can make it beautiful,
the best it can be.

i can't win
i never will.
he can win two jackpots
that is his.

she is his.
she is not mine.

he is naked,
dead on the bed
of the New York loft,
he bought out the entire floor

why should I think about him?
he never thought about me.

drivelin'

2008-08-22T00:20:00.000-07:00

this foul stench,
this sour mash of time,
recommending itself,
though not upon thy tongue.
I could've sworn I smelt something,
(though why bother asking you?)
We're so sad and so beseeching,
or is your heart so sincere,
that we both agree to play fools?
And your eyes, they turn me.
A personal tragedy,
a melancholy that's so puny -
and when reality crashes,
we search for meaning.
We talk and never remember anything.
Please, I know your suffering,
promises don't mean anything;
your thoughts linger with mine.
The past and the future,
both inevitably intertwine;
ambitions and demons,
both crumpled up with Time.

In Sickness, kicking and screaming

2008-08-16T06:16:00.000-07:00

-
Forget such nonsense:
I want to snuff it.
Little person with bigtalk:
Can’t fully comprehend,
Looking far into the distance -
That open sea.
Ay! Close my eyes
And It’s There.
That moment, I mean.
Death is just too big.

God has never come.
People have died.
And Time has moved on.
Ay! Close my eyes -
Death is just too big.
I’ll have to cling, then.
Stay alive.
Forget ambition.
Just try to survive.
-

buzzing buzzing towards the light

2008-08-16T05:52:00.000-07:00

Live free
But don’t think too much.
There’s always something
Smiling down...
When you’re looking around.
You’re only wandering,
Settling down...
Looking into the clouds
Buzzing, Buzzing
towards the light.
In the night,
hovering

get home from where you've been

2008-08-15T05:39:00.000-07:00

He raped her from behind
when he found her funny-funny pictures,
clenched his hand to the back of her head
and killed her when she came with her dirty little secrets.
People call him crazy
but he's not quite there; prone to shots
of laughter - his eyes no longer look
when he speaks soft and slow...
He's been waiting pacing for you -
get home from where you've been.
Ambien has an aftertaste,
you can taste nausea in your gut -
but now I am up and the vodka's warm and my woman's
warm in another home.
We can laugh together tonight...
We'll smile at the photos and speak of
the future, things undone.
Come, come,
Get home from where you've been.

Her body I muse upon like it's art

2008-08-15T05:36:00.000-07:00

Her body I muse upon like it’s art -

I want you, tonight
without your clothes on.
No questions asked,
No obligations to dwell upon.

Take no offense,
this is just for one night -
That is not to say,
there is no more to you...

But I'm more concerned, tonight
with the passion I see in you:
In your radiant face
In your fiery eyes.

I can just imagine
the blood rushing to your face,
your eyes rolling back into your head -
but I've only seen in pictures.

How come, so heavenly built?
Your body, tight
and legs, oh, so long...
It's like a work of art.

Intriguing,
I'm sure you are.
But tonight,
I want to feel

My fingers gliding down your thigh,
playing circles around your belly
then slowly...
slowly sliding down.

I dream of warm beds and wonderful blankets

2008-08-15T05:35:00.000-07:00

If Time was water,
I'd nestle shallow above it.
I'd flick the sand from my hand,
feel the wind upon me descend;
In the gentle ebb and flow,
warm and comfortable.
I'd even remain content
with the precise ticking
of a punctual hand,
unmoved and unassuming,
never inclined to stay behind;
with its pesky nudge and splash,
I'd still count the minutes I can spare;
and the wet sand -
sifting swiftly through my hand,
dissolving

Affliction

2008-08-15T05:34:00.003-07:00

Went out tonight.
We all look the same.
I don't feel quite right -
Not so slick in this slim fit.
Lucky me no one wore the same thing.

I heart New York

2008-08-15T05:32:00.000-07:00

...passed out on the train,
beard, beanie, and trenchcoat,
(xanax, tequilla, and art shows)
woke up lost in chinatown.
On street corners, ethnic vendors -
last night you burned my asshole!
Still I come back for more...

I'll call you sometime

2008-08-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

We triumph, yet our victory
becomes short and ugly -
and we don't care.

We steal, yet they don't know it still.
Though to us it was given,
we run off into the night
like thieves

such a strong word to waste on mayonnaise

2008-08-15T05:30:00.000-07:00

This sound I do despise,
high and low two open strings,
lingering on in E:
scattered into air,
scattered on my bed -
dead soldiers,
repugnant indeed:
the aftertaste of drink,
it leaves but little effect.

Smoke still lines the room:
there is no breeze,
the phone doesn't ring -
I hate the heat
and all my friends.

The Rapture

2008-08-15T05:26:00.000-07:00

They pass by in tight business suits,
one after another in either direction.
I'm just an alcoholic
watching a volleyball game on the beach.