they followed her all the way down the cityway
i can’t believe length matters
or that anyone actually has the stamina to read
need to remind myself i’m the freak with attention span problems
why is it so much effort
and pain
pain
pain
rghhhhhhhhuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnn fuck it hurts
When people grab my neck with their gaze
And make me nod Yes as in agreement with their love and human nurture
They snap my neck the wrong way
And fuck does it hurt!
It’s dumb
Funny
Dumb-funny
I love you friends
To be here inane again
So some same fisting
It’s stiff, block E-Daytona never took off
And viewing the passersby
Two-time it: Window watching people pass while writing this
I love you I said
And no comma
Metacritical already
What level is that then
Who knows
I’m fucked
There’s a line drawn before me, after me, in between, down the line
A volley
A return of serve
A winner
Two
Four
Game
I love this sport
It cares for me
This sport loves me
Why were we seperated?
Spell it gothic love
I.e. wright
Remember to forget
Forego
Make love stay toe-to-toe
Who knows what it’s all about chemical love bromance hit hut up cut up again my jawline with your knife
Kissing time
How rouge blockade
Broccade
Belgrade
Love at first touch
So sensitive
Pow
I am so dehydrated
And we could break that phrase up
But we’re metacritical again
It’s so dumb
How do I fall into this trap
No wait pay attention to the reader it’s for them
Don’t insult!
We know you like doing that
Love bitch fuck slut cum dumpster someways some days never again stay in memory hit volley
This sport
This cantene
On the veranda
One window at a time
I asked for a large with the dryness in my breath when I asked for a cup of water
She didn’t hear the evaporation
Sense my lush skin
Kiss me on the eye ball
oon
Never stay
Bromance cushion fuck her in the butt tell me why
Telephon Tel Aviv
tell someone off
my mastercard alawys stops working faster after the first purchase pin cushion cum dumpster of a finance system
who knew it
everyone knows it
i grow tired
i love you
excuse me
300 followers
no one likes me
i don’t have permission to clean up the internet’s pollution
As if I had the power of a union
I’m realizing that pushing my poetry out for free
Is a sin and a crime against myself
My worth
I and my poetry are worth more than that
Your eyes
Might find my work
Somewhere behind a paywall
Later
After I’m done writing it
After I figure out the cover art
When it’s on Amazon
Or in an indie shop
I’m not doing this for free anymore
You sluts
Recognize true art
And you secretly salivate at it
That it’s free
Oh the best things are free you say
No
Artists need money just like you sluts
So pay up
Fuckers sluts
Pay up
On the road to poetic infamy for damage wrought upon society for being too hip too sylish too amazecakes and beyon the beyon.
;)
Life is misery
My mother keeps jumping at me
“What’s wrong with you this time?”
She says
I say she’s an intolerable person
She leaves
No one likes a stoic
Do you see the wars I see
You’re all
So stupid
You have lost
Your Nature
You cannot see
Into the
Aether
Like I
Who am
At one
With
Nature
.
You don’t
Know
What
Why
Do
You hurt me?
Why do you hurt me?
Why aren’t you in prison yet?
You narcissistic sadists
Fuck
You
Fuck
You
You
Trash
Why aren’t you
In
Prison
Yet?
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…
