i apologize. i'm a bit distracted.

portioned falling. so much collapse,
35mm stillframes,
momentum building.
UGLIEST OF FACES.
hollow skeleton partitioned for the sake of flight. overcoming a solo meeting place. she writes forever, face plastered on hologram posters, shouting "REBELLION."
i will. i will.
i was told i was jaded because i was world weary. what's next? i can't meditate anymore. slothing through death, like i sloth through death. too many lines. oh, she screams and speaks like she's with me on the road about nobody but everybody. "that which is not, IS." aspects of one person that you come to face. one brain, two rules. my body is far too happy as she mumbles so i hear it, "i want to take you somewhere beautiful." a fear of botany. i want to kiss her in front of everybody and just have it be what it is. And this machine needs fuel. SO WE FUEL IT!

american girl.

ALL FOOLS,
we try terrible hard
to make them hear our
voices but we're saying
nothing. we are bored
with ourselves. daring in
LIFE AS WE ARE IN DEATH,
or sleeping still. i'll call
you back tomorrow when
i think of what i meant.
i really don't even
remember that night and i
almost got so sick, but
i went to work instead.
and shit... we have to keep
living this year.
xo

the sun approaches.

we wouldn't know what to do with each other. and eventually, we'd have nothing to talk about. there's nothing that you want to do that amounts to much more than stories of the other night. and there's nothing that i want to do that amounts to much more than plans i think i'm trying to make. i wish i wasn't addicted to falling in love. at least then, i could take this as far as i knew it would go. but i still stick to the belief that guilt beats hate. you just won't do; you're the kind of person that asks why. we could do this if i got beautiful and dirty. we could do this if i got beautiful and dirty. and it's not really tearing me up.

i didn't know who you were before i met you but i swallowed hard every time i saw you.

i could probably never turn you around.
you just don't have the right kind of eyes.
and i bet you still don't touch pen to paper.
i actually don't even believe in you.

i'd have to be the kind of man that would fight the kind of man that i am.
my canvas jacket would be worn thin everywhere.
i'd wear filthy boots caked with mud.
i'd wear hats.

i'll carry your name with me to the end.

the poor keep their lies moving. fingers sweeping across dusty counter tops wrapping crustily around anything more than miniscule. they cry that heaven's found a way for them. she done got that stone veil propped across her nosebridge. she's calling us in all the way. the children she bore and we misunderstood. we all just misunderstood. don't look at them now because they're hungry and they've been sleeping alone these nights. mouths curled up at the corners because there ain't no safety here. cities cities cities. just more blood oil to burn down. they've been walking to get here, leaving piles of clothes they've shrunk out of. burnt out into last night's home. children born into grown men. disoriented irises that speak in networks of tongues.

the derelicts follow these train tracks from the coal mines to the oil fields: down down down. they live to live some more. they're never going back the way they came. it's only tales of other years. the mothers the fathers stopped calling them home. jazz children and copper kings. here where it's safe to drag your bones down the windblown plains across the reddened clayhordes. the past is the collapse of today and this is why these people are dangerous things. they're cupping raw souls in their raked chests. a heart with eyes wide open. a mile isn't a mile when it's home and you'll never need to mourn if they're laying in your dust trails. "i'll replant this soil, drive harvest home harvest rain. the sky just ain't what she used to be, and this is why to you we supplicate." from the shore to the borderlands, through fog haze mist, it's a chant that goes silent in their throats but resounds in their knuckles.

through me, you'll know them as they know ghosts.

only i can stop this.

... it's because she can't look me in the eyes. as bad as i want to. when she's ready to be silent and still in the small of my palms, intricate like a whisper, she'll press up against me like she can [only] she can.

me and all my little records.
violence where no one gets hurt.
just the worst of intentions; the subtleties of raw skin.

the dream terrorist: laying sideways. only open for oxygen at that point. and i'm feeling the pressure applied from my incisors to my canines. escape shouts. gravity melts. evac. she just couldn't wait.

i kept my jacket in my car tonight.
on the jacket are pockets, and in the pockets are razors.
i've got the keys to my car.

i saw you tonight without color. your portrait moving our door frames. you spoke rounded, like they did in the 20s. i see you in every soft beauty. i found you. i found you. i knew what i saw when i saw you. we once had. we once had. i don't think i've ever seen you on a wednesday. let's blend into the daytime hours again.

i deserve this head of mine.

could have gone away.

it's actually really funny, but not.
everything is wrong.
mandibles upon the choke screen.

i'm calling on you to save me and you've been here.
i know it.

i'm repeating where we've been. never together only separately. i know this feeling.

say what you have to say to me.

i'm sorry.
so damn sorry.

show me a sight. how can these two hands and ten fingers?
allornothingallornothingallornothing
i'm sorry.
so damn sorry.
i..
we both know....

x

i'm trying to disappear.
it's all the same shakedown.





































you & i.

growing.

used to be easy to run here,
and now my feet don't touch the ground.
no!






time goes too slow.


/tx

manning a successful campaign.

Pen to Pearl
2005

4:38am
00 "The Hutch"

Spasms. A Timepiece. Heartbeat a tuxedolapse. feel the bloodgate? loathe further than another hemisphere. lost your wick. flame match marriage stasis. frozen nerve cell mind bath. killed a man effortless. cupped hands, water poured through fingerlegends. a cinnamon love. you left me when the tongue told collapse, no elbow stretch, a march bridge sky plane. proximity, make me love you pore to pore, the ins the outs, lose track for hours. these are your minutes. believe me: you're just fine.

my fresh skin, a blessing.

with me aside.

i'm sorry.
so,
damn sorry.

-

i just want to say sometimes that i feel so much more than any of you. nothing i write, nothing i read, nothing i listen to, nothing i watch means anything unless you are me. it will never be the same.like i'm this vulnerable emotional cortex unribbed from the cage. i had a breakdown at a diner table mid falling in love pace before it had even started to get dark. i'll never get to use these words in a skyline.

writhing in the dark
on a bed frame like
some sex starved servant
on an ecstacy campaign.

subdermal drowning. but i want it darker than this. and i want it closer than this. an interswimming collideoscope. a tidal kaleidogram from when you screamed it on through me.

a foolish potion, this. there is only time, the illusion of which is gone. but what could be worse than the glitch vermin, she lives all up on the insides of me. coughed her up this morning, the blackest of wireorgans, sapped up the colors deep down in the dregs of me. a true sight to behold: the osmosis of self.

writhing in the light
on a porcelain frame like
some lust charged junkie
pioneering the skyspace.

"don't be afraid, just keep it all in your head." languages of deep afternoon dreams, embraces that have just latched the miles. "i've been gone once i'll be gone again and the bold bold nights amount to the shaken down shaken down days." voices a lush carpet of the purples and oranges found on the fringelace of galaxies (ours, theirs, the unclaimed, the departed).

she still looks the way that she did back then.
swallowed her down, peristalsis clutching, growing hands and fingers tearing my jaw open cracking my lips. that whole gum feature, showing off the garden of the teeth, roots deep like redwoods, roots sunk deep in my brainstem.

and so often, this place is paralyzed regardless of weather. i am an aimless child SwThAoY's gWiIvTeHn uMpE..

i don't think i can explain this to you.
missing someone so horribly that you sta
rt to think it's just a funhouse, or a r
ole you're playing. you miss them becaus
e you know you should. but really, you'r
e just used to this intention. the voice
has become the portrait. i want to be w
ith her so badly but i've grown patient
and lost an expectancy. everything is
alright. i've gone down that path,
the one with me waiting for her to show
up here, or the one for me to start driv
ing, but it's not coming. i'm too suited
for this kind of lifestyle for that. an
d she's probably on the same page. the f
ear of falling out of love is based enti
rely on the subject. you find yourself f
alling apart when nothing is wrong. xxxx

it's like i never went anywhere. i want to leave and be overdramatic. i don't want to live at home anymore, i just think it's best. i want to pay rent, and be poor, and spend some money on beer and "never" do drugs. i don't want my mother or father or birthsister to walk in here and think i'm a weird kid for listening to music a little louder and typing into a bright white box, because i'm not weird, i'm just feeling something.

i want dave, rahul, carissa, new guy, old guy, stranger, to peak in and say
"it's one of those nights."

i've lost a little bit of focus here.
((and i literally thought that i was just typing about having a porch.))

i feel exactly like i did six or seven
months after a serious break up. it's b
een six or seven months since i've move
d. i'm fine, though. just fine. i'm ser
ious.

dear BONEMARROW:
made me want to feel something again, something big and indirect. large quantities of it. inexorbitant amounts. "over the top; absurd; ridiculous" even. it's not so much you it's what you represent, you fucking cliché. but it is you, and a collective compound of where you've been (the dust on your marks) and how you've handled those places (the scars you wield). one of those things that's less words, more the way the words work. [it's hard to untranslate] i have got something going on over here, with a specific purpose and direction. something is wrong with me.

illiterate bass drum.

i will be nothing but a legend of memory.
and i am full of fear.

-
"before this one night stand becomes an eternity"
VS
"one night doesn't mean the rest of my life"

-
basking in the wake of a hundred idols' creations.

-








meant every word.
just never said it.
don't listen to what he says.

saarsgard.

even though i don't think i'd ever forget,
i think i'd be okay.
it just doesn't feel like devastation.

coming back into myself.
could be that i'm faking it well enough to get myself back in line.

sing for your lover like blood for the sun.

-
dear odd dynamic,
i keep you so close and i love you way too much to do that. you're my new achilles' heel. i don't remember what you look like when you're freezing but i know that's how i knew you when i knew you. i could have loved you when we went swimming in the fog and in the lights, but i just loved you way too much to do that.

for one year i wrote every word for you.

here's to The Future.

-

these songs do them no justice.

-

me&you,
b a b y.

i caught him. the moses tart.

-- Stabilize; stabilize.

- james, we need to get this kid a new cannon. one with a longer fuse, slow as a goddamned wick. less firing on the city, little more time to detract his statements.

-- One less building destroyed, one less life refiled.

- i'm glad you're with me on this one, james. i'm glad you're with me. one week at a time, the eyes roll back. one week at a time, the kid gets the chamber. and one week at a time, he reevaluates the values he's made.

- Body count's too high, serotonin levels off the charts. A tactical nightmare.

-- you said it. what kind of progenitors would we be without this kind of self awareness? what this kid needs is a direct line of self assurance. if only such a thing could be extracted, pasteurized, liquefied, and vein-sipped through the iv. then we'd have a machine on our hands.

- The like's of which she has never seen before.

-- you've got that right, buddy.

looking back on this day.

got new plans to make. the big build up for the small let down. the future you were riding... the "there's always this..." - it's just not happening anymore. and nothing even had to happen.

"he just went crazy."

sad isn't even the word. it's just showing my face around here again that's the hard part. another six to eight months of life threatening balcony walking. being the weird kid. "i am so out of here."

The West War Ours.
Where do i go from here?

it is. it's learning to breathe again. hard and long. full lungs expanding and stretching, capillaries bursting.

starting to think about where i'll be sleeping for months... because you know me.

the dialogue goes, "no, i'm not worried."

there's no going back the way i came.

knuckleduster.

murderfucking on an expensive italian leather couch in an enormous living room. every corner fixed with an industrial vice. hallucinogen chandeliers hanging every ten feet, disco ball light colonies recurring a thousand times on the two inch thick carpet. your singing voice gone to complete waste, your face buried in my hands. i think there are systems in place to prevent this from happening. i think there are drugs in this place to enchance this fleshparty. just shut up already so i can make you someone else. and you didn't wear the boots like i told you to, and you left the gasmask upstairs like i knew you would. god i'm learning to hate you, so don't you fucking stop. i don't even know why you bothered walking through that door in the first place. think about the wars being fought, and think about small loving families who will never get out of abject poverty. no, you're not going to drown here, baby. i've got way too much in mind for tonight. there's life in these walls yet.

-

do what your mother tells you.

i am such a piece of shit, and that's how i ended up slumped down against this wood backed chair. the small of my back is holding all my weight; my ass hanging off the end of the curves meant for your posterior. my shirt's a wrinkled horror, mostly at the collar where i was chokehandled around the room. i couldn't give less of a fuck. i don't listen anymore, not to anyone really. in this go around, i just tried to watch what he was watching which was me just watching him. i tried to see him as he saw himself in the mirror this morning. i thought about how he would tell his friends about this tomorrow, and that's really the only time i ever felt anything about this.

i'd never been punched before.
it's quieter than i thought it could be.
it has the same effect of a loud noise, though. all the senses kind of blindshot out.
as if he was some friend of mine, i almost said to him, "you got me all deaf, mate," on his way out the room.

i barely know this guy. i've only got what she's told me about him. well, what she's told me, and what i've found out through the internet. but that's mostly inferences, assumptions, and lies. i only know the idea of this guy.

but i like to think i have a pretty good idea of who he is.

i am so not going to do anything to him when i come around. i'm not so sure if it was the kissy face or the smile that put him over. well, that, or the whole, "your girlfriend ain't so much your girlfriend anymore" thing. the barbarian. i bet he'll be all layin' in bed rubbin' his knuckles tonight, thinking this is the last he'll ever feel anything about this problem again. i want to tell him, "baby, this will be your whole goddamn life." get the fireworks again, but at least i got in another last word. behind his eyes, all i saw was industry. puts up the big boy literary fatigues when he leaves the door. but back at the dark apartment, homeboy got the UFC channel tivo'd and a maxim collection to thumbfist through.

ah, shit, i got nowhere to stay tonight.

the fucking love; believe it like scripture.

blood on the pages,
a flip book for the splatterhouse.

interlock fingergrips, won't you?
palette me in emotiongrip.
a trail you left make madesweep routine whitewash.
color.
color.
color.
the same spectrum you see against the days of youth.

it goes by,
the new you,
a taste like tantrum.

coccooned,
when you are removal,
you see the remarkable in hologram formation.
you hear the unspeakable in phantomform lovelust.
lipstongue suckswim in marriage.
eyes tractor beam between attraction.
the body the face the body the face
all the love in the goddamn world

the face the body the face the body
i goddamn love you


give me problems called
drug addiction alcohol consumption propheteering.
drip me down under gutter planks moral filter.
you, the light, holding tighter now to what we want.

house picket fence dog child wedding veil west coast warmth.
you call me closer to the heart just by beating.
you breath me closer to the lung just by gasping.
you blink me closer to the eye just by staring.
you dream me closer to the mind just by dreaming.

tight body waist, my fingers don't know sleep until they're at your navel. they lick your insides for fantasy particles. your breasts the oasis of tonguetaste, i leave your chin your back your legs arched.
grip the sheets, clench the teeth.
the lips they command the lower lips,
wet, pumping blood, screaming a name my own
YOU SEEK LUST IN MY TASTEBUDS.

i watch your nipples percolate like sunrise catalysts.
your voice touches the celing scrapes the lightbulb in pink smoke tones, a kitten scream for orgasm.

veinputty a remarkable pull-in at fingerlength.
iris to iris pupil to pupil sustaining tones of broken bones
after you come once
after you come twice
my mast is in your skies
your winds blasting my sails
over and over and over and over
and fucking over
we're destroying the beds that have been made
the sheets that have been bleached
in the name of LOVE.

my fingertips know your hips;
old friends, signatures to dotted lines
moving in circles, the pelvic bones acquaintances
hours are losing count

bathed in your moans, the last thing i know is pleading
and an eruption of soulmarkers.

you are covered in me
and we are always the same again.

this might,
yes it just might
just come again.


i miss you
like i've never missed you before.
you're the most beautiful thing i've known.
from deep sea to deep thought.
from vocabulary to pen MAN ship.
eyes body lips hair legs feet mind soul fucking words.
i miss you

i know we'll love again
in the mindbodysoul.

turn it up,
and touch the panic button.
rub it wide and round, the red just calling your name,
my voice rubbing your insides.

i love you, and this NEVER ends.
from beachfront property to poverty gutterstreet.
we know the pinkyswear by heart.

.husband

a cumming in the sheets.

i had the lines lined up like plasticine.
ribbed textures of the fingerline.
morse code of the digital.
a 101010101010101 binary masturbate.
but she gone, she gone now.
set to sea, like,
bottle on the ocean, like,
words i won't read again, hoping you'll return the letter.

the you, the room.

guardmound, the wall.
staring off as polar contention seams the solarplexis.
it was a sixteen word cantor lock load sentence.

a speech pattern as minor key thought
organgram partitioned for fable ceremony.
the animals, they talk a speech saved for degraced virginials.

conversation exemplified landlock.
the island of experience,
THIS NEVER HAPPENED.

give it up; put it down.

don't say that you're waiting
for something to come and wake you up.

A TRANSCRIPT.
THEY CALL IT THE BEST HE'S EVER DONE.

listen to my last words anywhere. listen all you boards, governments syndicates nations of the worlds and you powers behind what filth deals comsumated in what lavatory do take what is not yours to sell out your sons forever. to sell aground your unborn feet forever.

i bear no sick words junk words love words forgive words from jesus. i have not come to explain our tidy up. what am i to hang over here with the workers the gooks the apes the dogs the errand boys the human animals. why don't i come over with a board and drink coca cola or make it. explain how the blood and bones and brains of a hundred million more or less gooks went down the drain in green piss so you on the board could use bodies and minds and souls that were not yours are not yours and never will be yours. you have the wrong name and the wrong number mr. loose getty lee rockefeller. don't let them see us. don't tell them what we are doing. not the cancer deal with the venetians. not the green deal, don't let that out. disaster. unavaluable disaster.

crab men. tape worms. intestinal parasites. like burroughs, that proud american name.
proud of what, exactly. would you all like to see exactly what burroughs has to be proud of.
the mayan caper, the centipede hype, the short time racket, the heavy metal gimmick, alright mr. burroughs, who bears my name and my words bury it all the way for all to see in times square, in pickadillee.

play it all play it all play it all back.
pay it all, pay it all, pay it all back.

no, no, no.
premature, premature, premature.

are these the words of all powerful boards and syndicates of the earth?
i say all these words are not premature.
these words are all too late.

and i'm sorry to be up for the sunrise, romeo.
for you are the east, and juliet is the sun.
a drink-another-night-away setback.
speak the mind doldrum.
leave you behind rhetoric.

you don't know, but you say you do.

the volume so high, why are whitewalls even bearing down.

there's more to this than just breathing.
corpsesteady, a longing in intergrip.
stasis like aftermath. comatose like trauma.

thank God she even knew where to find him,
it was starting to sound like a party favor.
the pinata birth; concussion deafening, heart in hand.

i might be everything you need
and you might be the same to me.

tell me and i'll believe it.
can i tell you you've been
the light at the end of tunnels?
the voice at the ends of comadreams?

&
lovely green eyes:

i don't care who i am
i want to tear your ribcage down
eat out your internals

so!!

a countdown to the end of reentry, and that's when today ends. slipping through the upper echelons of nineties, and counting backwards. wrap down around the ribs around the collar bones fall back and drown. skin darkens around the knuckle locks. eyes seal around the retroblade. sweat peels off. you warned me about your electric orgasm but i just wanted more, and the door was wide open. she stared me in the eyes and i fucked you.

"is this important to you?" the lover asked, wondering if what her mouth was swallowing was creating a lasting impression.

"is this important to you?" the liar asked, wondering if, in the long run, the vessel would remember its flight.

"is this important to you?" the lesion asked, wondering if, when the blood was done flowing, the scars could match his constellation.

he came in her collarbone,
untied her, and left.

the antennas wanted to hear it all,
record the face she made when she felated.
hold the esophagus dear,
x-ray a phallus, cock-hard and dick-sure.
and does she let out a liquid sigh when she's completed.

i gave in to her,
let that face
let that voice
let that memory
let that goddamn body
eat me a-fucking-live.

my whole soul.

my true sister.
a home without latitude and longitude.
we're going to find it.

it's just a simple line.
i can still hear it all of the time:
"if i can just hold on tonight,
i know that nothing,
nothing survives.
nothing survives."
i think i'm turned around
i'm looking up,
not looking down.
and when i'm standing still,
watching you run
watching you fall.

am i making something worthwhile out of this place?
i am displaced.
i am displaced.

and she's my friend of all friends.
she's still here when everyone's gone.
she doesn't have to say a thing.
we'll just keep laughing all night long,
all night long.

and it's just a simple line.
i can still hear it all of the time:
"if we make it through tonight,
i know that no one; no one survives."

i love you.