Intervals Hilarious
Julia’s throw-the-keys-out-the-window walkup
Wet rocks very dead violets and B.O.
Neil Young’s Greensleeves low-to-mid
Cop a photoshop of me skiing for my
Funeral doin the Melo triple noggin-thump
Sounds of your girlfriend carving duck not
Just dead but not yet alive
Frontloading the purse of a sow’s ear
Backending tipsy topsy sludge
Demon KNOCK IT OFF
Collating lemon ginger
Seltzer in the anysex watercloset
Heartbreaking omens organic like the planet
Out here mane
Steady-cutting skid-knee bender
Packingtaping pizzaboxes out the windows stairwell
We’re tripping and shining
Calling me a prick no one shuts up
Their curtains
No what the’s from my ducal yurt
With dank twat at least at times it knew me
Ride Blade on Curb
little ass maniacs never know
how to regulate formations,
liberating the amassed energy
both subtle and gross. they say
the swampy look is already back
with a heavy list to part: cultivating
informers, scenic freaks, gluts
of dry guppies and all the "hush your
mouths." in my eyes i go to lengths
for you Tryla. freezing your wiggle off,
still your tiny rocky core is ruched.
cures you whisper make no sense.
flattop fronds, kidstable bidden
hall of famers, guts & garters or
vegetal subroutines broke smooth
jockettes and whammy'd the utmost.
kindly i caper something dissolved
phase to phase, daze for days.
do you feel like dessert yet?
whatever floats your boat is drowning me.
Folding a Ring
eye to eye but in another life. why deny a
posse life? i lead in piss. you are represented
here as a metal plate that digs and serves the
posture benchers binging Fellini. you're
so pinned armageddon would be proud.
confining pools shock the wind from my
knees, shoulders back up the blest hill. Hova
inculcated jack and jill access to my pocket
crane. clutch riser Medusa i'll never blow
your play. calm your debts. sacred txts. ur
aggressively ignorant Regolith sintered into
evolving genitals so far down the plot all
you have is fizzled finales.
Infiniti Plus One
It's a number that can't exist, density making
The escape velocity greater than the speed
Of light, but when I died nobody believed me.
Take the fliers down, burners, vanilla Visas.
Masculine wiles a sitting duck with a heater
Under my Dungarees looking like Umm el Ma.
Let's create problems behind closed doors.
So she's aspirating to preen in some monastic
Alcove, slot canyons with capricious shadows.
Post activation fees yielding laxadaisy, but I
Don't do pickups. pickups is someone else's
Disembodied moans verbing over and over
Constantly in her old ass saltbox. bitch picture
How much air is in NERF, the vacancy yields
The hurt bogies loyal to the soil, people of
The path. what if I just wanted to be wanted?
Not leading to blood atonement? my dead
Friends are doing long bids in oceanic calderas;
Algal but crepuscular rays rip through and
Effectuate pageantry. they keep the
Megamonsters down there but the princess
There is me, never to reach credibility. that’s
Massive, that’s early, that’s a myth. every
Housefly of the infernal adversary. now bitch
Would you care to make an impact statement
Before sentencing? Nah? Bet.
Little Green Men
Whom divines evil apace, feline or canine ,and these
Particular whom proclaim such recognitions put them
To flight; finesse pimps with henhouse radar flunk
Saddles over a singularity. they do not treasure delicate
Ruptures in flatness which turn beliefs, which swivel
Generalizations to fascinations. upping their wet n wild
Game weaving orange lethality where turnovers go to
Get bored, and strangelets pummel inward youth to
Seek textural refuge from mere night lights to nightlife.
Born in the Shade
Disregard the cheerier ensemble accept
this fondue as a peace offering
Your grimacing shamanic chortles feathered across infamous episodes
I have to win the fairytale
On stage my band was playing I emerged from a bio-mech
coffin buried under hundreds of copies of Alien V. Predator on bluray
Autographing titties bedpost notches like graph paper
Splintered my heel slipping on beaver puke
Fear me if you dare
Your blush ore aerosolized
Straight drop this and Ziploc that
Minatory Draculish clinic goes tits up satiated
The blondterage skedaddles to the bronzer-wrestling tan and lacerated
banjaxed
Well you can run a cottage industry maternal chic trend dot com
Riling up the sex goofster in his jalopy with uncommon precedence
rips off his wifebeater in the parking lot
I check my reflection and that shit looks so fake
they coulda made the graphics way better
A couple o slag piles may be eligible for compensation I
laced their feedbags with blue blazes ain’t that a blip
Mush doggies mush to my inbox
Dingbat underlings fuddy duddies goldbrickers probably
narcs I will pull your fucking card have you camped at my
feet gazing coyly
This is what sweat equity feels like
When I am mad at you where am I not
I am a candle damper
I text the empty void she’s already got a boyfriend
cloaking her inky goulash
Anchorless yet fixed in bondage crouched and
fascinated caged and confused
Dumping queso into my guitar Mike Will made this
Toe curler nuke the hicks with either no sideburns
or extensive sideburns
I want you farther than the root of the root of myself
to my public conclusions but you’re closer than my
inclination for solus
Suffering is pain for a worthy purpose still cancels
rousing bouncy knees passionate impacts or near death experiences
Cabbages & Kings
Portraiture in firelight breathes and blinks
Lightness I charge you with this sign from
The rope trick to the paper chase and
Living in darker hues meatier sanctuaries
Meatier meteors rufflier rumblers
Berserker amontillado but why are the
Oysters so sharply shod there shouldn’t
Be seafaring supernaturals they’re averse
To salt you see Lewis voles would've been
Scores of swarms better but wouldn't
Have buttered your bread from 1812
Until hack wickedness cues Danny Elfman
Hunks of Baguette
Thermostat set colder than the other side of the bluetooth
Tarpaulin, notice me on my terms: giving buccal swabs to
Myriads, and plucking the marshmallows out of your charms.
Subprimally kempting a world without end nettled medials
Rather. twerpin about, shaking beef vicinitying the food insecure,
Acing the power of generosity and honing the guilt of being robbed.
All things hard being profit, tongue cruciforms with straight
Hypnoclusive cycles of detecting echoing form, so when she
Wets the bed, (coughing in 5.1) after missing the Chinatown bus,
I'll spout twas only spilt Pellegrino by my peanut butter cache.
Fait Acompli
Whether or not the likeness is abhorrent, the
Foreboding flourish plays the plight of the privileged
With that fling to it. islands are still a chain no
Matter how violent the weather between them
Gets. out ur neck talking can blast a cab in half.
There keeps being tough noogies. trill surveillance
Is sickness. the twin tyrannies of time and space
Shanghai'd my shambolic, stultifying moral rectitude,
As well as my acolytes'. I grew up a cliff or two
From there, sleepwalking the hairy edge of stability.
Backtrack
oh it was rich,
too rich for my blood -
was poured -
on the -
decour.
you killed off the food source,
source -
was -
out -
sourced.
living off
just living,
living off the vagueness
and the vagaries –
of –
the sun,
son.
meaningfully poured,
meaningful
snatched –
from –
ruin,
ruin -
ation.
so can I still
can I still,
retain –
the dull –
edge?
meaningfully poured,
over –
the dull –
edge.
realizing and
realized reeling in,
a –
nicer –
one.
oh the edge of
the meaning,
the end of –
the mean –
ness.
i cannot be measured,
only –
my –
effects,
only –
waves made –
by my –
goodbye.
Rods'll Clang
Moody faint thumping from upstairs
Makes my teeth hot. intimidation
At its finest. you’re on the warpath,
On your irksome, doing donuts in
The Pantheon: piercing. knock yourself
Out bud. just let me go back to my
Serene hutment or my ticker will sink
All the way through my Campers. the
Vexation of the responsibility of
Communication overplumbed my
Endurance, my composure. I don’t
Fancy folks, namely only characters.
Fightscene
the violence of absence
dealing out days
from the bottom of the deck
- immediate strangers
in the lowly pit
of my mantle i was
clear and rested in thought
in your presence
sinuously always louding
me the Kingdom of the Bed
the legs you sported
- outrageous fortune
i could tape you
to moonlight watch
me down in possession
of no more answers
a bigger slight
the real gotcha-gotcha
i really thought you knew
the difference
between heat and fire
you will never see
the pity of my trust
do you know wave?
wave is coming.
Ago
they are more
like
fir tinted
glasses
fishing out
junk jewelry
backward
through a
knothole
- impedimentia -
bringing up
the rear
your
overbearing
mercy
odorless
as
neon
Access
thick recalls jutting
muddy and frostbitten,
harkening kid days -
proper melting memorial.
stuck on deadwinds,
windfalls.
inlaid are lean months.
brittle notions
spellbounding,
burning out a
smoke-sized cradle,
imitating my mass.
o what refuge!
•
sputtering into
clutch mode,
urgency became my
ditty.
a skull full of
houseguests
afraid of the hymn
of you.
pikes
and crowns of battle
on the house.
way minding their
ranking,
the bellows feedback
until higher
and more direct
passages of endearment
colonize.
o what refuge!
Worth
Red objectification is required,
Blue moods adhere to histories
Spoilt crowds have their temperature taken,
Fresh willingness is not surrender
Block frame The Other in fairness,
Sap destinies will twist
Dad acknowledge process,
Son progress remains unknown
Baggy one should be all,
Tight one is only one
Indistinct always use the same brush,
Limpid coarsity widely varies
Thew apply a virtual slideshow,
Frantic virtue is not research
Dangle ideologies flatten to a segment ray,
Stiff vantage points are balloon shaped
Bore glory is fading garbage,
Dramatic pedestals and trophy cases lie
Major causal models inform,
Lillipution information is not a communal enterprise
Dick regard evenly,
Pussy admiration manages dissonance
Prompt primacy is well lit,
Dilatory throes and grapples menace the vision
Crisp manners and means preside,
Misty the breakdown and breakthrough corral the odes
Faces on the Wrong Side of Wet Windows
if i put my sim card under my pillow
will i get a new one
with new friends? blending with the before
like tanlines and bank dyes.
dust-obscured water moccasins tote me off -
where’s a falcon when you need one?
nothing surprises you therefore
you are never surprising.
in darkness big rocks hit made
primordial mosh pit.
oh yes, suddenly me.
stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock
proximity mines round your building, no garden.
just perfect my domestic nomadic daily rituals,
up and down, up and down the stairs.
rim-to-rim pussyeaters draped in finery,
surrounding your building.
thirsty and dazzling.
snapped a couple dark phone pics
i couldn’t stay the whole night.
dust-obscured water moccasins tote me off
the new fingered prince.
you spread the venetians,
who are they?
you can’t make them out
just like earlier.
you wail,
"kick rocks you southern blocks
brimming with dildos.
just wait till the black shit inside
me turns to Sprite
then you'll see what i'm really made of.
we are not alike,
hawks eat cranes."
The Ford
did i fucking ask?
oh, i meant to.
are your nemesis qualities so chiffony?
i'm just the tap,
bubbling hard in the bloodbath
this whimage lost resolve.
vinaigretting the hedgerows
you've fed.
licking your papers,
turned loose on a button you absolute unit,
it feels like lies there.
cherubim straddled trestles boost the bust
monument high but there is no face.
i must cross the ford.
moonlight shone off of your bush
beaconed me right-wise
over the middle lands necropolis.
i tried to tell you but all i could say is oh
Preydar
my glare rots apples a
floating stain gripping your dreams
hammered by my reign
your husky security ripped down
to the studs now available in
tropical generosity that fucks
you and i recall
stealing stealing
now i've seen it all
To Make Way
Something like fifteen months ago my friend killed himself. I went through all the familiar stages, as suicide is not unfamiliar to me. It happens around me and even runs in my family on both sides. It used to brush with me. Those were the dark times.
Today I was purging data from my phone and ran across his name. His cell number. Him. It made me think of the details others have shared about calling their dead friends out of habit, or saving voicemails in order to continue hearing their voice.
Shortly after he died his estranged wife would answer his phone, and undoubtedly fielded many horrified people’s questions. I met her once when my friend was in the hospital under psychiatric care. She was angry with him. That was none of my business. But today I imagined that she wondered how long to continue the painful ritual of answering his phone calls. And I imagined that maybe there were callers who were surprised that a woman picked up on the other end.
I thought about calling, something like fifteen months after he died. So I did. I thought perhaps I’d leave a message in praise of his philanthropic nature. Possibly his daughters would want to hear that. Then I posed a question to myself: how long would I continue to pay for my estranged significant other’s phone bill?
I think I’d merely let the carrier contract expire and be done with it. Perhaps I’d decide to cut it off after the funeral and wake and shoving down bursting feelings, after the dust settles. Or when the dust of the loss piles up so high it starts to choke me.
But my friend lived in my phone, our conversations being held mostly in the after dinner hours and over the phone. He still lives in my phone. But not in his. A man answered. It was a confused “Hello?” as I still have my New York number. After a few seconds of silence, I almost asked if my friend was there. An idea swiftly flashed into my mind: would this stranger want to know that his phone number once belonged to a gentle but troubled man? One who chose to end it all, the way he wanted to? And that’s how he is able now to connect to the world, to his friends and family? Is the number as haunted as my friend was?
I wish I could tell my friend how my experience of him split my life into two parts, before he helped me and after. The dark times prior, and now. But towards the end that he saw coming for him, or didn’t see coming for him, he did not answer my phone calls. I can only hope that as he thought about his time here among us, he understood his impact. And now I am somehow carrying fault: “I’m sorry, wrong number.”
Sedna
you are the missing link, hello.
her deep wordless was major,
so at this point i'm worried.
i am chomp.
i sold out but y'know
i like to eat,
almost every day.
there is no haven in my shadow.
what is it about a locked door that just itches?
Popular Hostages
Furniture in the afterlife
Is dated and is
Not ergonomic everyone
Hovers so it's ok.
There are no
Castles in America,
And it is true that
Nothing new shall
Ever be created
That everything that
Will ever exist
Already exists in
Another form;
This painting bearing
Savory harvest brush
In my mental landscape
Is only commodified
Earth, tones and scent
And thickness from
Synthesized or unsynthesized
But bred from ground.
5x5, all day long,
I know this.
Confidence is easy
Without risk,
Very paradise.
I rang the midi
Bell and it cannot
Be unrung,
But this is
Not rocksteady.
Frequency warbles,
Lenses whir.
Hyperblossoming, life
Itself is not entertaining
Enough for me.
My wealth of
Sexual stored credit,
The highest owed
To me – shit –
Heavens – let’s not
Devolve into superlatives
And hyperbole.
So abreast of a
Stone quarry unheavy
Glass bricks tango,
And I laughed
Even when one
Thrust the other
Into the mountainface.
Threatenized by the
Spectacle of sameness,
Of this partnership:
An ever-cracking glacier.
Best to rid it.
Unburden yourself from
Cloud nine – there
Is a tenth cloud.
It is on a pedestal
Right behind me;
On it sits
"I don’t know you."
Zip your defensive
Tent back up.
A fake muse onrushing
And trying to separate
A fool from
His dollars prescribes
Me an app.
This aggregates the
Stages and glories
Of me into a
Rectangle with gloss.
Just as the
Ground is broken
And crunched into
Vibrant pliable doses.
There is a painting
And there is
A painting painting.
Go pound salt
If you’re addicted
To the struggle.
The June gloom.
Raise a barn
Or something.
I’m preoccupied by
Witches hittin switches
In the sky.
The Ruby of Warsaw
are you ever present?
basement rented
harsh realm lieutenant
are you calm you vented?
pretending your temple
ain't shrinking like pencil
if there is something here
give us a sign
just push the coin
for us still living
chime in anytime say
something intrusive
hear me what i'm saying
normal is pushing gray
into dark gray
please don't take her
like a marathon at night
i hang back and thrash old haunts
dwellest thou fucking
wherever thou fucking want
fake moons and cut tunes
welcome to jamrock
welcome to the jungle
welcome to bigwigs
welcome home, Patty
Let Castle Abuse and Quilt
maybe not aged as a tree but longer than cousins or O.G.s.
a warm and thoughtful curse
always in the way here to stay never shook away
patterns
corrosive thread wove
unstuffed uncomforting symmetry heirloomed wino'ing
sore digits minutes awwing
portal into blood dedication
up to chin on cold nights up to lips on dark days
eyesore
tucked in a trunk unveiled and pointed at
draped shrouded heavy shoulder pads
me and my friends are dead
to keep playing please insert another miracle
Late Shoving Penalty
i'm on my feet you sweating best runner up i didn't wear socks that whole summer you made me wash my feet that was humiliatingly holy so precious your commodity your physicality but i just want to listen to you i want to know you your everything what makes you shit and cry and enraged and embarrassed how much do you still like pasta i like your thicker thighs is your stoicism hiding bitterness is bitterness not taking me seriously i don’t care if you don’t touch me just look at me it was always there in our shared staring it is so loud it is so knowing it is so secretive it is so familiar chasing waterfalls to soapy openings now i like the tattoo i made fun of back then you look military now except your hair and you’re rolly and curly and flowy not stompy would i have behaved differently if you had told me that you were raped i want to know what makes you change your hair is it a man is it a billboard is it a performance do you eat different breakfasts when you travel does it depend on the city are you watching your weight do you need to watch your weight it doesn’t seem like it you could beat me up but i would eat you up could you change my principles are our principles aging as we are your gravity creates moonlets i lost so many photographs it was never the right timing for us i taught you how to put condoms on foreskin but you wouldn’t spit in my mouth you said come with me to the magic room your overly pillowed nest a taffeta explosion your mood lighting your rabbit warrens you’re kicking me out because the sun is coming up i want to be seen with you do you want to be seen with me we could still teach each other am i too headstrong to adapt i want to adapt i think I can do it for you but would that work we always butted heads and that was the alluring do you still talk to him i do but not that much we have this wall of whatsups but you always remember my birthday and we talk a little and you invited me up i said wonderful i try to do what i say but how would it even be if i did come up you’re busy and i admire that they write about your art and we all witness you flush and sweaty and how that’s youth but is it youth i really want because we were young but you were so cool i didn’t follow you after college like i promised but we caught up at last i think i picked wrong back then i wasn’t thinking so many phonies got in our way you never moved a muscle without grace maybe they weren’t phonies my oldest friend i could drink a case of you and i'd still be on my feet so is it me or you who’s the sweating best runner up
Free Info Real Inferno
i own shortnesses of breath, of height,
and speeding the same slick streets
is my fondness of the fire inside.
was ever there a woman, until it doesn’t.
bobbypinwheels occupy a crawl space breezeless,
harsh realm, man.
to not perform the hypnotic
only task.
a cunt hair from the crypt
until i unfold
and snatch what i prayed for.
oh! a fresh chimera!
the squad
fanning out such like accordion pleating
of a wooded parcel,
fathoming fawn prints nesting
nervous urine.
prioritize this mockery,
behold this flood,
whiff the funk.
have yall got it?
oh but then there’s me -
untroubled unblinking stare-zeez,
i’m arrested, immobile and stationary.
teensy-weensy microbes strive to breed on
my boot’s tongue and i can’t bust my scrutiny.
so why on the other hand am i trippin?
i’ve reveries of chicken nuggets in blister packs,
and how razored can one wimless half-pint
fashion a saltine?
Bahama Brains Out
you, looker. my newest.
i say these all at once, I
want you to hear
what I deem to be amazing
and see what I feel
to be stellar. want you
to take this pill with me
and we’ll pillowfight.
you haven’t had enough shitty shiraz yet
to actually want to talk to these people.
let’s get outta here please.
we don’t know each other very well
but tease listen tease,
i will jerk the shit out of your arm
right here in front of all these drolls.
mine this time, your world isn’t so empty.
you might even for a brief moment
think that your life choices
have actually been helpful to you
despite your drunk fuck ups,
and maybe a legacy in
your name starts with you
and that generations to
come will respect you,
if they don’t turn out to be shitheels.
but for like four and a half minutes
you’re my,
you’re my mine,
mine mine mine you scurry off now ok?
in my belfry
dripping softer wood
dripping even burnt on gravy,
comforts untold:
um, so, palmfuls of goldfish
and that nook behind the armchair
and calling girl teachers ‘mom’
and really short extention cords
and lots and lotsa moss
and critical salsa
and the perfect StarFox takeoff
and big cringing makes the women squiggle
privacy is an amazing time.
Spill Team
I’m calling Daniel. Fuck, voicemail.
I wanted to tell him about how much water I drank today.
I’m gonna flush it out this morning. I’m completely
topping it off tonight. To what do my moods most strongly adhere?
My body? Your body? Only one love, my god! You ampersand me?
You understand me? I’m telling it to tell him like he doesn’t already know.
Daniel and his biggest fan of a girlfriend always have
all of the numbers in the charts down
and the names of the researchers straight.
I’m dim because I thought I had thought of it first.
But obviously for an erudite, and finished,
and goal-fulfillment driven,
and fucking sublimely good-looking duo as they are…
voicemail, I’m sorry. Apologize to Daniel for me.
If he wants to drink tonight, well, you know.
You Are a Home Entertainment Center
the bonds of likely regression
strike up their matches
and judge my area code.
but i’m right there,
the bigger stone
and spreading out.
no, wait. still beholden to accuracy -
i’m not even 2 pebbles on a crutch
blown through a nickel birdcage.
your upcycled glances in the cut
you witness my vault
festooned with useless decadence.
the traits of night famous in death,
rumble lifers’ sabers.
what’s dark? streaks peaks and dips -
architecture of a crumpled wrapper.
while I visit the beverage
partial to disturbance,
partly i observe this.
bereft of all creation mists
imperfectly blazing trails
and pending a keepsake of pre-history.
the luck of order,
a whomsoever problem,
you luscious eyewitness
sicced lament on the hobknobs,
came correct
and muffled their sex whistles
Graveyard of Peed on Things
thy crotchola in the dark
misty small hours:
curly rain
and herb-lore
and glad tidings
and quieter meals.
i appraise the marsh of it,
my sovereign.
my earth’s nullity, her earth’s mars’s hell.
i don’t need to be right, i just need
to make a big deal out of rejection.
like metal on metal but no sparks.
her flouncing powerful asexual untertones,
i the scantily clad one-trick-pony squoze
the lower bound silt into elegant tents,
into doable chunks.
-what a timeline to be alive-
my pain pushes until my vision pulls:
a truckstop toughguy
although empty as a flute.
as a reaction or choice,
a tactical demon.
gosh, a jejune basher
dealing only in marginal darlings
only fussily takes that nice-nice.
i’m young i’m done,
communally we might could junk it,
and salvage some novelty from
this thick energy...
no, only in cartoons.
O
due to adult content
former teen delves wantonly
into childish basers
H
their gazes locked at the ravioli station.
he wondered what her taupe pantsuit would look like
crumpled down there in his root cellar
doused in Powerade.
salaciously w/o an easement,
deadly nose ring kinged
a literal type asshole. it's The Lack,
like full pallets on the back of my neck.
in the half-light
what a sight
i'm the poltergeist.
N
in harness furthermore,
every peek worn.
a profusely relaxful stroblit icicle
but age dims the stim digit-tips.
still, abides balmly within she,
alike with alike bivouac'd...
oops there goes my shirt
up over my head, OH MY.
O
early bright at first blush
exudiced plunk'd atop the terrace:
a creedo-entombed-jewelcase deluges,
wreck-wrapping a blistering Americano,
undefiling the t-zone.
the edicts now mystiqued,
anonymous evermore.
dimly uttered from the nosebleeds "jump in the line"
ok i believe you...
Cam'ron pulls up in the Pepsi blue Lambo.
T
bitch you broke as a fetus.
i smell money underwater.
none of ur beeswax feed us
druggish and thuggish,
me and The Father.
H
scans the courtyard,
spanning 2 adirondacks
the tanning-bed-defrosting
beetroot calzone persperates onto a louse,
a noble expiry.
the sameness of that
bushed leather hammock,
the scrubbing bubbles
or enduring bonds.
I
properly come zoomies cum zooming into the discord,
the stone-age sweeping epic mesh we mirror,
and we’ve won cuz we’re one.
loss the light and the light review.
what went i feigning GRIEF whatfor?
burnt and smothered left,
although beaming yet.
N
nothing's fine i'm torn,
never to rise above my station,
the snitch heritage.
none harm reduction paradigm.
illusion of explanatory depth.
don't you even condescend to my bath water.
all of you mere hurdles.
i blast to the next rash.
BigBrother's watching you bored out of his mind,
you extra everything absent medium human.
G
succeeding the epiphanic forgetting,
i palm The Lack unto thee.
i knock it off i empty i tribe
i keep it on i whisper i ego
Hurry Sundown
what fun! look at you, picking out nice things!
you hotsteppa
frumpy
with a Rubenesque tattoo of ur own house.
whom brung fungal lunges,
that's how come.
like the not smart child,
cushioned, insulated, bonnetted.
all that themes do delight pretend,
bittering habitually with zero hitches.
a sage hare steady goin potty
in a noovo West,
thither well-nigh mine 8-bit rampart
thou art nether my chill initiative,
empire wasted,
overtly stroking.
so my view tilts upward to the blue:
sheer yachts ablazed,
clear or almost clear,
at this point what the fuck am i looking at?
do unto them and do it again
annexed reins gulched sweepstakes
Trish niblets bi d-listed cheapskate.
Your Cranberry Defilade
i'm like,
i'm nice,
i'm back,
i'm crack.
still hurting the wave,
i can hammock your big “ifs” now and after now.
i pronounce you the first womanever,
wide-ruled but not housebroken.
consistently sparring always w/o jammies
traipsing dalliances
getting zippies out
urethras pinging tonsils.
but i'll get you back under my flag
you can bet their long goodyz on that.
The Times They are a-Different
wet n wild
hypocratic shards
wish u were here
know i am gone.
when she’s clean
the grass is greener
the kinks are darker
other shoes
aren’t dropping.
solitudally i’m
ditched in ditches
full swaled in swales
i'm that part,
to have and to bone.
the commonest thread
on front street.
til the stonish
new horn’d freekaleeks
carjack this girth
this kiting beef
this strength of length.
lapling accedes
lavish faille provisions.
lusty beepers
curtsy redefine shelter.
On Blue Wraith
Temeka
a chat and a bit more ago
bemoaned, weeps including
tears puddled on the collar
swept adrift now
with a slight chin rotation.
waterworks landing
on beer-bedding,
but light and precious:
a glass figurine
the brush of fingertips
on the high major keys,
not on purposely decked out.
yet the bead soaks in.
very close.
ok very closer.
cute as.
Lude Stanchions
stripling's cajoling beseechment -
rallied tite about the VDT
trembly fretful the declamation:
“I don’t pull out. I don’t even go in… huggghhh.. come ON!
shake your dinners or something, Treasure!"
his shire’s monitoring with downsloping allure...
"(she’s a people person, scout's honor my brooz)”.
stripling’s arduous pursuit -
the pain shoves frontally prior to fully-buffered reverie.
in unswerving rejoinders
or likely dubiously so,
his straightaway incantations a rank familiar domain.
all the more untoward,
Treasure's definotley still a thudding mound
delivered like a baptismal bash:
got wet, now awaits the revival finale
and intermisses
and paces
stripling’s insufficient veiling -
monetizing dejection
tenant couched amid the social margins.
he's not cottoning appreciably to this occasion.
should the rinkydink state bide pronto until quietus?
oh, verve!
self-txt’d to the root of the root of this proser.
wut virtue ought he uncover to yield the griefest
unclenching of the crown,
pining still to pointilize the exhaling briar?
Treasure wilted ca. the ribald tempest.
There are Sub-Zeros & There are Scorpions
nettled member despoils cavern implementations,
dry-busting out i and i’s outbox walls.
tuckle i back into Read. ✓
The Yoke
wagging wire-to-wire high above
the grim plows and massed droves,
fussy your bingo boy is.
swinging vine-to-vine
the yoke underneath holds,
his bangtails tautly restrained.
eyes reposed his are
but concealing the famine
within them,
buttery areolae starch his prowl.
a floorboard creaks
snaps back to attention
comes the conversion moment
and dawn dawns.
the yoke merely dreamt
unchained melody chopped & screwed
persists for him far beyond the pale.
The L of L
hang on tightly,
let go lightly.
oh you know,
only a foaming softpack
on the fringe of a digital crèche,
no biggie.
her present barge of tulle smears my stalking tiffs.
hardbody if we've not lumped up in ur tender recalls,
in ur toil of covert reruns,
what a dry roster of synchro-spasms!
in my palms,
where the sun don't ever shine,
i just can’t look at thee.
i must blank out the lurids,
oggling the corners of the ceiling more.
i’ve tipped over
exceeding the midline DMs.
you peeked and i peaked,
to carry on a brio chased.
it doesn't wane.
post-fees i bloomed unto you,
but homesick at home.
thou art nine - ten ten wins.
i would return to nothing without you,
if I’m your girlfriend or not.
Danger LTE
if I haft turnt away
wouldst thou still audience me a thick percentage?
or just a sliver of a warming leer?
where rest we then where lay we then?
parading oxen to trample my sorry-not-sorries.
oh i see
a missed text.
so here we remain
with thinning longings.
Beigey Tyke Yam
tushy axons →
happy trail planchettes ↓
foreskinny node
jawlips barraging the GoPro with sputtering snarl
Bottoming
- meanwhile, at the anti-prom -
the startling ease
the unbeatable, aching, distinct givenness of every way, now,
you picking the lock of idyll.
my mind is pink velvet funnel cake.
preesh, its been gloopy giggles
Cloud of Witness
Essence must remain elusive, or at least subjective.
But at the liminal, in the gap of perceiving,
Exists a space for a psychic miracle to manifest itself.
Much like an abrupt aural penetration, such as a musical crescendo,
A sudden evocation by shift in emotional latitude takes place.
I look in the mirror and nothing is there.
I might find myself languidly aching, yet patient,
Eager to feel this force, only to find that such an
Inaction disallows this miracle from being conjured.
Dibs on Bottom Bunk
my God with a big G,
the Barron
the bleak executor
my paramount sentry
please uncouple me from erratic motifs.
please teach me to clutch
grove/hive-inclined penchants.
i fancy to thumb the unexpressed,
but i’m digging ditches in subsea rivers.
crossfading in and out
wooly murkiness drown out my blessed drums.
a downers drencher
radically seeping wet-napped my gray matters,
dislodged my rancor -
the otherness of others.
my thiamines peaced out
it's totally apparent I'm blowing it.
what fresh hell -
seizing lightning’s hurried face
buried in a bucket
spewing,
a shitless piteous floor display
crown’d you parlormaid.
i hereby grant thee this dogsbody.
splayed atop the oathing slab.
stowing head low
enduring doldrummy ages of ages of ages.
holdfast now,
a Robe of Honor awaits?
He spoke, direct to my eyes :
“for thems thats resolved,
tumble-dried soully
i will deem this fractured outfit apt”
i knelt:
“my waymaker
my utmost serene mouthpiece
is my grail plenty drab?”
He heartened again:
“cloistered blurb o' mine droves,
wade dauntlessly amidst that
which We ensue united”
Read 1:31 AM
Gargoyles 85s
- after James Cameron's The Terminator, 1984
stroll'd the marrow contraflow
distopi-twerpin pyramid of skulls
burr vague landscape decayed lavish spread
artless our march,
flimsy our stronghold.
i split apart and stomached antiquity for us.
i'm sorry miss Connor
i am for real.
this isn't fabulism.
childish piling it on,
demanding
shitty camoed
my crush wretchedness
what cash?
what sidewalks?
what the blood, clot?
nothing clean, right.
snuffing bio-cuzzis
functions slain
detangling fates,
that's all he does.
trash savior endeavors
hock the Vandals, hunterkillers
impinging wasted rozzers' escapades
nivvel tiddyballs adjacent Spartan burgers
jurying brightness clamped my gullet
pulse-gak'd in warm gash,
conceive my totem most highest.
Tecate piñata swathe the Renegade.
Birthopinionation
the uninvited silly me
a darker meaning
giga drain puffy buckets drips
to dungeons custom cussings
crises glare his nuts he clutches
dissatisfied smears to
nothing's in the sphere
genesis of jealous failures
scenerio’s bananas
feudal character stupid me
a deepest grieving
throwed out the USA primo
splendid themes
marble taping incompleteness
the irreducably complex -
walk before me and be blameless .
so many goddamn things my mother -
trucks, a fat knife
mugs, a lake so still
ascended masters’ stalkings
hover above it
dust, a pillow, must unbutton
pedestrian I stay unhero’d.
rang through the shrubs respect view
from the 80's golden sighs
hang between em dude.
sober tabs axkill even heathenly,
big mood inner demons swaddle even me.
Comanche Tantrum
sororized cliptage my side blogs
enricher scanlines asstecc-texts soapy openings
a toucha 'guana Helly-pellant stoker
pound meek John Wayne chain
what? I'm up again?
sir under swoll bod my great calyx sepals
gawk, the vast belly unmuted
chasing waterfalls sprayed-on members login
squillin backseat and my wood
rawdogged flange in Timbs justly crested
Sorsha, Ouida, Moogega dem
Heavenly Nobodies
fertile throngs punk your stigma
you been donged elegantly evidently,
leisure goons and tubbos dart to the c-cups.
stucknition, up-gulping pets Christian:
midsize piss-hungry leers, me, ochre.
shit tight no slack.
i want is mine.
inhale puce long into the clappers.
CandyPain
epic minx
saga wet nurse
parabled lusty bum-bum hunny
kiss your gold bye,
mild metal, too soft.
marble plaques now
throb between these thighs
bred by your throat
in my bashful bedrock,
cum badonk thick like lipstick.
rest not pregnant reflection
on fortune’s hacked wings,
for in tallying these megaflops,
your intramurals cement lickety-split.
so, instead, hoist up your chalice,
upthrust and detangle your girthy knees,
peep the odious meat,
and receive me in places of…
i’m the harvest tangle
you’re starving for.
Nancy's Youngest Son
hardware hunny
m4w 25
(bushwick)
you’re the mixed girl that works at the hardware place on broadway.
i was in there the other day, i bought a box of zinc-plated
carriage bolts size 1/4x1”, box of 5.
i actually need 1/4x1” zinc-plated HEX bolts, box of 5.
i already opened the box
i have no receipt juddy juddy dumpling
juddy steelmaiden, can you work something out with your manager?
don’t make me steal the fuckers. so when i almost certainly get you fired, slide over to my spot and make a big scene outside my building. and don’t forget those bolts!
–over and out
babyoil
m4w
25
(bushwick)
i need to exert dominance over a female stranger
help me flex my bulbous ego
send me a pic of ur tummy slick with babyoil
make it nice and you’ll get a reward (u won’t get a reward, idiot)
proof is in the pudding, include these word in your snapz,
“in dreams, the image of an animal, a primitive, or a child is commonly a symbolic expression for the source of help and healing”
–arite then
huge loser for babes
m4w
25
(bushwick)
i’m a pretty huge loser. check it out, you should give me money. i’ll treat you special even if you’re heinous. i’m seeing someone, but she’s a tame fuck. its like, how can someone whose ambition you envy, a biddy who inspires you, and who you’ve blown wads to, or over, whichever, be like, a silent receptacle in bed? or on the roof that first time...
–really tho
eccentric type art dick
m4w
25
(bushwick)
self-employed (unemployed) elitist looking for taller than me dim-witted beezy to remind me of, and never hold a candle to, a past partner. puffy nipples a huge plus. i’m not gonna be famous or anything but i do say some amazing things during boning. can we go to your crib tho? my roommate’s girlfriend is always here and theres NO WAY you look as delicious as that fuckin nerd. so that might be awkward. or piss-your-leggings-as-pants-funny. i’ll take those leggings thanks
–we’re done here
Swimming
so far, this immutable truth:
conduct directs semblance
while speech and spectacle jointly labor
singly, rarely whole
doubly, always full
in either never lacking.
and when matching breaths
honeyed cream arrests me
halts mobility
spanks me to a choking gait
and missions through my piping mutt.
but once swayed by panting affectation
i’ve not the faculty
in amplified cogent mind
nor in creeping hinting principles
to detect any irregularities of fortune
or missteps of horoscope -
bed receive me.