Portrait of new friend

me on a good day

happiness is a grave

And I intend not 
To be that kind of yes

But yes

Yes to everything 

Yes to nothing

Yes to you

Yes to me

Rain

Rai. Ran

The rain

Down upon baroque growth

Limbs of green 

hills 

Are a romance 

To humiliate

Man(un)kind's make-believe

Not busy with fear 

this great pretending called life

Little do. Fear you

Holding hands easy as breathing

Easiest breath

All We have to do to make shapes 

In such a night as this

"he could be defined by his make believe"

I am in Tennessee and

There is a tornado near by

I have to go to the basement

here is a growl

apologies.
i've been reading a lot of Andrea Coates.
i think the revolution may have been compromised.
there's poetry dying on the shelves of Quimby's.
and my new haircut is hella dumb.

MOTHERFUCKING
WHAT
DO I HAVE TO DO
TO GET IT RIGHT?

christ in heaven

both the morality of self-expression and the morality of our judeo-christian forefathers twine around each other and continue to limp on

offering us only a sense of compromised logic and relativity and disconnect/disjunct/disinfected junk

WE ARE ALL EXILES
YOU CAN NEVER GO HOME AGAIN

shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
farah fawcett hair and me
kit kats and diet coke
somehow
sit beside
strange loops and bdsm royalty

what what what what
motherfucking
what

here's a sound poem for some undergraduate class
and a lazy bones dilettante
I never want to work another day in my life.

SLUTS
IT'S AUTUMN
EVERYTHING IS DYING
TIS THE SEASON I PRETEND TO BE A CATHOLICK
BY DRINKING A LOT OF WINE

IMMA TEAR UP THE PROLAPSED ANUS OF THIS TOWN
AND OMG, GONNA RECLAIM THE SOUL
AS AN OBJECT OF STUDY
NO GODS NO RULERS
STILL SWIMMIN IN THE DIVINE

PIERCE MY HEART WITH THE PINPRICK OF THE WILLIS TOWER
I
WILL
BE
GOOOOOOOOOOOOD

crickets, new hamshire

screaming, car brakes, creaking spires.
disintegration has noises that have no place to go
they ricochet off walls at random--one enters my window
where, like a spider hungry, i wait
once eaten i say i have disintegrated
now and again under and over these sounds
i havent seen any of your faces in quite a long time
tell me where i am:
silence.
ill ask a stranger
instead.