I wrote some bomb-ass poems today
But I’m also a bit drunkish
So like buy my book when the second or third one comes out
Not the second one, that’s shit (and not out yet)
Buy the third one
I don’t know what it’s called yet
But it’ll come out after the second one
The first one isn’t advertised well but it’s pretty trill
FUCK THAT SHIAT
You say on the news on TV that drones were looking for terrorists in Iraq
Like they are the bad guy and just kill them
Like they are not human
And like you have never had a boisterous or “problem” child in your life
Like you don’t know what it means to care for someone who would rather you off dead
You, this, are a leader, and I can not respect you for that
Thoughts of disquietude and self-doubt adorn the halls where I walk on past the pillars strong and my meal for the breaking of the fast and the morn o’ double in the interior excellence past…
Wondering why they submitted to remorse. Wondering why.
They did that.
Please, ever, to know, that you were, here, in this way, sinning so righteously with the fervor of fire in your fist, forsaken lady, seems knowledgeable now, but did we ever know back then…
I submit myself as a specimen for the xperimenters. Come find me.
The world is too big. Empty. They get lost in the vacuum. No one is found. I rest alone.
Least of all are any experiments run.
How to terminate the time. How prematurely do I bask. Stupid fool, me.
Fool me.
Why not.
Jump.
Lesson being:
You can’t catch a fish if you’re drowning.
I submit myself humbly as your savant-sadist, to know pain and communicate it with you surreptitiously. I submit that we shall be interlocuters–no I don’t actually know what that word means–but that with diligent recourse–or that one–I shall be might! And righteous! And do pardon the potty break…
Beyond recompense, to forget saying you remembered meant so little to me, that at the time you were weeping on the kitchen floor, a wreck of bones with a knife and a candle. And in my memory imprinted in my dreams you did not get up for aeons, and I looked down on you. I looked down on you.
How to memorize the planet so that I might may go home. I could not decide, forgive me.
Remorse without recourse is a crime, of course. And yet, so little prosecution does find itself executed under the rule of law. How tragic, our social circumstances. How tragic, that he started it all in a garage.
They play plethora row-wary stymied misdemeanors and all such but no other one will know it but they. This is all learnable, is it not. It’s all classic, post-modern, indeed, it draws on multiple disciplines. But how do you know where I’m hiding? Ring the bell when the meal is over.
I’m hunting winter. Winter’s rife blankets and reflective coats over my surface. I will melt you, you better come down, boy. There’s a sluice–nope–in the breakenstance. It is overall, there, in my high place, without you. You had better come down, boy, the cups are full and need a drinkin’ with apple sauce and brandy high. Things fall, some whether or not you ask them to. This time I won’t, because I can’t see.
Roll on by…
I feel you white rabbit chain apocalypse meandering slowman showman never wins to the go-man. Never wandering wondering who is it why did I say that when does it end.
No one will tell you. No one will tell you when it ends.
That you determine for yourself (is undetermined (in this case)) I give up I don’t want to do too much I love you, you know.
Very much.
But beyond that we must function, to stay occupied.
I met a fellow once who did nothing and was happy.
I don’t know.
If we told more stories like these, whether they were true or not, maybe we wouldn’t be so pressured into finding work and making money.
But you like paying the rent just like I do.
And I’m going to finance some real estate.
There’s nothing real about it. And it’s not really anyone’s estate.
It’s a “mis no mer” lolololol fuck up the ass is that to do with my life?
So it goes. You relate but ah, as it comes, so sayeth the wizard to blow out the candles with window flame is in excess.
Then we vault. And it ends.
So there. Is your happy conclusion. Jarring. Pickled.
Disparate of my way is yours and we see this happening so often that no one speaks up.
It’s hard to say why.
I won’t.
Go there.
Hemp.
And hemlock.
Hemp.
And hemlock.
Brethren.
Stay warm,
My father is an engineer but not a philosopher or artist.
My mother is an artist but not a philosopher or engineer.
I am an engineer, philosopher, and artist.
My mother,
My love
How you have given up on me
How you claim to care
But no longer care
How little effort you spend
Trying to brighten my day
Rape, slavery, psychosis
I am the victim
The world hunts me
I wish to impart
Upon you
This wisdom
That everyone
Should
Know:
That we are
As it were
Meaningless creatures
Of mass
And matter
And morose
Mumble mumble mumble
Mania
And what now
Do I step on the door mat
And enter the castle
Where I will rest
Or do I
Castigate
Myself
For even
Thinking
About it
.
As a reminder
It is better
Not to
Think about it
.
Please
Save yourself
And do
Not
.
You, too, wish to
Influence
Me
And I know this,
Paranoid
Like I
Am
Or at least,
As they call
Me
I know
It’s
Real
But there is nowhere
To
Go
Still
So I
Crumble
Implode
And bleed
My panic
Is
On display
For your
Love
;
It does not exist
It is never there
The drake, too, will pass, wither, and fade
Like all atoms
They collide
And decay
This universe
This physics
Is flawed
There are no moments
There is no spin
That can outdo the angle
I come from
I come from the
Ultimate
Reality
That we are all
Doomed
To suffer
Until we die
And maybe then some
If God is as evil
As I know he is
