(2013)
here in the middle of the bottom of the lie how obvious
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
the very idea that i could be
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
cool this angst some with beer, amazing how it works, three in and suddenly ashamed that i could hate
excuse me, i thought you were also the center of a fractal
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what