SINISTER HOLE.
DEVIANT TEMPTATION.
ASSHOLE.
JUMP INTO ITS UNKNOWN
WITHOUT REALLY THINKING.
AND THE HOLE SAID
"YOU COULD LAND IN A CROWD, AND IT DOESNT MEAN YOU'RE NOT GOING UP WHEN YOU'RE GOING DOWN"
IS THIS MY NEW BEST FRIEND?
THE HOLE WITH SENSE?
I GOTTA TELL YOU,
I CANT TELL THE DIFFERENCE.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
soft rug
as i lay on this rug,
with
the softest fibers.
i wonder who's hands made it possible.
so i take a trip without moving a muscle.
look for the woman, so i could thank her.
but as i get close, her house is a hut.
and when it rains, her floors turn to mud.
my voice becomes weak, when i see her teeth.
rotten and brown, and her cracked white lips bleed.
my eyes well up,
with a mettalic taste on my tongue.
she says, "my god. you're not even young".
'just leave. dont thank me for the work ive done.
i've never felt its luxury.'
with
the softest fibers.
i wonder who's hands made it possible.
so i take a trip without moving a muscle.
look for the woman, so i could thank her.
but as i get close, her house is a hut.
and when it rains, her floors turn to mud.
my voice becomes weak, when i see her teeth.
rotten and brown, and her cracked white lips bleed.
my eyes well up,
with a mettalic taste on my tongue.
she says, "my god. you're not even young".
'just leave. dont thank me for the work ive done.
i've never felt its luxury.'
SYLVIA
what a terrible way to get attention.
an ill timed intervention.
i dont think it was her intention, really.
a great mind is capable
of such powerful mistakes.
im blown away.
how could anyone think they could save her
from something so inate?
an ill timed intervention.
i dont think it was her intention, really.
a great mind is capable
of such powerful mistakes.
im blown away.
how could anyone think they could save her
from something so inate?
Thursday, August 19, 2010
six foot by eight
read my notebooks. my dusty things i still say. ive made no headway in beds ive made. still sleeping in shame on trains in my brain, under steel wheels of worry, pills and thrills are only temporary. it stayed. that cluttered land fill with broken toilets and warm refrigerators i stole. i thought i could stuff them in the hole. thought i could make them new with a fresh coat of paint. but my frame is falling with gravity, and now people are noticing.my cracks need to be stuck with needles to freeze a frozen expressionless face. i am now art with veins. im a picture for sale, six foot by eight. im a giant cheap vase, with plastic flowers, no water, no leaves. flawed bendy stems made in a sweat shop by the taiwanese, with rough edges, that if you touch, you will bleed.
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