Automatic Writing: Sens

Ok, here we go, no stopping. I'm out in the street now, and you've got your coke bottle lenses and we haven't held hands yet but that's not stopping us from kissing ghosts of the past who brush past us and whirl about us in white dresses that our grandmothers wore on their wedding day. What a happy marriage they had oh god we'll never get that back, one more light has gone out of the world and it is never coming back, we're staring down at the dark like a rollercoaster up at the top of the hill, can you feel the pull in your stomach, put your hands up when you die, don't hold on and don't look back, it will only make you sick to see everyone else screaming. Oh god here we go, from the moment were born until the moment we start talking we say everything better with screams and grabs and snot bubbles and cries and why can't I get this right? Twenty three years ago I just had to bellow and holler and everything was better and now that it's winter and now that I'm older and now that I'm living in the world where I never thought I would. I never thought I'd make it this far I didn't plan on anything past the unhappiness of you leaving me behind. I thought I'd put my hands up and die, and that'd be fine because I was looking back at you in your coke bottle glasses, that you don't even have a prescription for, what a silly thing to do, fall in love I mean, and so young, but I had no choice because that's what hormones are for and everything was floating fast and free in the spring sunsets that smelled like rain and melting snow and leaves coming out from their buds. Remember that picnic we planned? But instead I got drunk and depressed and you had to pry the bottle of whiskey from my hands and I only let you because you promised to let me stroke your hair back from your eyes so I could look into them and see them, and I was only trying to see something more than myself, but I guess you thought too much of me to let me see that in your eyes and that's why you left the picnic that we planned and told me not to pass out on your doorstep anymore and whenever I walk by that alley where I punched the bricks until my knuckles bled oh what a stupid plan that was I thought I was being great and masculine and really feeling something but that's ridiculous, but that's hormones for you, they make you punch and grab and scream, and maybe that's the best way to communicate what you really mean. I started writing letters with my bandaged hands and now I haven't stopped, I burn the ones I write to you in a metal trash can next to my desk and there's a soot stain on the ceiling of my room, every time I look at it I think of you in those fucking  coke bottle glasses and the white dress my grandmother wore, I don't know how my mom ever let you try it on, you smelled like moth balls when I kissed your neck that night, but I didn't mind because that meant something more to me than anything had up until then, that's when we started holding hands it was two months before the picnic we never made it to and a year before the rains came in April, I still don't know why you left, and you're only a block away I could see you tonight if I wanted to, but it is better this way. I'm leaving town soon, and even though you said I love you and that everything was a terrible mistake the last time I saw you you were so drunk on jello shots that you went into the bushes and peed right in front of me and asked me to hold your hand. I couldn't help it so we spent another night, and in the morning we had a picnic where you told me that you didn't even remember telling me that you loved me and when I looked up at you with all that hurt in my eyes, you said but drunken words are sober emotions and you should have known that's not good enough for me so I left and now I'm gone forever from that place where I broke my knuckles on bricks and I'm hitting on girls in bars and wishing they were anywhere as neat and smart as you because I can't stand girls who can't carry on a conversation even if its about something less than art, and I'm sure that they can't stand me, at least I don't objectify their bodies, just their minds, who is the asshole who objectifies their souls? Not me, I'm not sure we have those, now that's not saying we don't because there are moments when I know we do but that's when I'm watching children in the park with their mothers and that seems to be the closest thing I've seen. Somedays I can't look into my mother's eyes because I'm afraid she'll see everything that I've done to myself while I'm walking home drunk and alone.

This Will Be In My Will

When I die next week,
I'm only assuming,
Please don't bury me.

I know it's morbid,
And strange and smelly,
But could you please leave my body
in the bus stop, downtown.


Also don't forget to leave,
A pack of cigarettes and malt liquor,
For all my new friends trying to wake me up.

When The Revolution Comes Hugh Hefner Will Not Be Safe.

Listen misters.
We haven't got very long.

I give it ten years at best,
before they start coming on strong.

God help us when they do,
and don't get me wrong.

We'll deserve it when it comes.

Ladies, I'm sorry
about all the times
I stared at your boobs.

Get A Job With Your Face

Oh well my,
Aren't you pretty?
With your eyes and smiles.

Oh gee oh gosh oh my

I bet all the boys back home,
Just couldn't take their eyes off you,
And you got to think of their fantasies.

And your hands came up wet with your teenage dreams.

But nothings always as it seems
And the boys in college, 
just fell over backwards for you,

and you broke some hearts,
but it wasn't ever your fault, honest.

But darling, I've got the internet.
And you can't seem to hold up your end
of why you think this or that,

So pack up your tits and twat,
we're done here.

You're done here.

Oh Octopus and Lobstertails,
I hate myself again.


How many nights has it been?
Unable to sleep at the white ceiling.

Ostrich feathers an leopard skins,
I wish I didn't hat myself again.

I thought I was done with this.
Thinking about all my failures.

But there's nobody to blame but the cold darkness,
and that's so far away and alien in its distance,
that it's easier to just blame myself.
And now I see that I caused everything
from that bombing in Calcutta last week
to the flood in Bolivia next spring.

Who needs self pity when you've got self hate?
Oh Octopus and lobstertails,
Oh Ostrich Feathers and Leopard skins,

In the end, nobody wins.

Automatic Writing: Nonsensical

So when?

I'm waiting and I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to hold on.
The curb has gotten slippery and the flashing red lights are inviting.
Even the cold air can't hold my breath back, and I might step off onto the empty street and lie down and wait for the parents to come to work and run me over in the morning when they drop their kids off at school, I'll have an apple in my pocket, because that's the sign I dreamt of dying under when I was twelve years old my favorite things were books and stories where things had meaning and endings but this life seems to be nothing but false starts and short stops that drop off to nowhere is where I want to go but everything and everywhere are calling out to me with their voices like the void I keep trying to cover up with the self I've clipped from newspapers and put together with flour and water a real papier mache masterpiece and i didn't even use any elmers glue but I ate enough when i was a kid, or anyway I coated my hands with it and watched with satisfaction as my skin cells came off with it, giving substance to nothing it was like both things at once, but I didn't care whether the glue was more real than small things that used to be part of me because I was worried about lunch and what was going to happen in the next chapter and I keep waiting for that next thing to happen and I like the idea of dying young and everyone weeping at my funeral, but I want to leave something behind and lately I think I'd like to die older than I used to because maybe, I'm not sure if that's where you come in, every day it changes some days I think that the times we had were all that put coal in my furnace and that I was wondering where you were headed and can I come is that okay to wonder I don't know I just want some security I want to be sure about something and I want you to reciprocate who knows what love is anymore it has been thrown against the wall of ourselves to many times and now it is just as empty as I feel most days but then there are the times when it all makes a little bit more sense and I'm sure if I try yeah I could find that with someone else but I found it with you I'm not saying you're the one, you just happen to be the one I found, I put some quarters in the machine and I've never won this game before so won't you help and hold onto my claws? and we'll walk down the street and skip to some invisible beat I think I wrote it in my head when I was asleep in the dream we were jumping on grass as if it was a trampoline but when never came down the ground just moved up to meet us and noting mattered we held hands and I looked in your eyes and then on the carousel we leaned out as we passed each other and then that magic happened and the Sahara was suddenly a forest of things that I never imagined but you're from the rainforest or the arctic I can't tell because you can be so cold and never get touched by anything and I've been out here in the sand too long and my whole soul itches with the sand in my boots because I've been running after mirages and when I feel down into this delirium I have stopped caring whether or not it is the sun, it feels real enough to me and I wish that was enough because I can feel enough for two if you'd let me oh god who would let me? I'm so unstable and codependent that I can't decide what sort of soda to drink and that's why I need someone who is smarter than me to sort out the bad cans from the good ones because I'll open up thousands of them to see if the answer's at the bottom and I've looked through a lot so far but not as many as I used to the taste has started to turn in my mouth and I need some lime because my lips have receded and scurvy has started to take hold when I die don't throw me into the sea I want to be mummified and made into a statue as a warning for all the children, this is what happens when you grow up, everything becomes a disappointment if you let it.

This Might Be About You.

If you want to know where I was
Then I wasn't,
And I'm not that vain as to try and remember

But I know you'll try and remind me
But that's maybe why I love you.
I think, I'm never really certain.

Because every day I change a little bit more
Into this thing that I'm becoming with the passage of time.
Well that's not fair.

I saw some wrinkles on my face today,
but they're right around my mouth,
and they show the world all the smiles I've had.

I blame you for that.
And for some tears.
But the tears were more my fault.

Or anyway that's what I was taught.
Everything good comes from somewhere else.
And I'm the root of all evil.

Maybe that's why I try so hard,
and I'm so earnest.
I want to prove to somebody that I'm worth something.

And inside somewhere
Deep in there
I feel a little bit of nothing

But not when I look at your face.
And not when we're together
In the same room

I like it there.
In whatever room your in.
Does that count for something?

Heat Death

Someone worked it out once,
That if the Universe keeps going,
And entropy works like we think,
Then the way it all ends is rather mild,

And space becomes gentle,
Like tepid water in a kitchen sink.

All because the universe won't stop growing.
And who is to blame for that?

It was the same here,
And now everything has grown so much,

I can feel the cool grease on my hands.
And I want the drain plug to pull out.

In Quiet Morning

I sit in the quiet of the morning,
And the breeze rustles
Through the undergrowth.
I sit in the quiet of the morning,
And I hear the tinkling of glass and ice.

Of ice and glass,
and glass and ice,
and ice and glass.
I sit in the quiet of the morning.

You might say I'm standing in my stirrups,
Feeling the horse revolve beneath me,
Feeling the patrols move past me,
Slowly in the darkness, I sit.

A lone flag rustles in the darkened breeze,
And reflections of parked, dark windows
Sparkle in the early light.

They are lonely,
Lit against the stars,

Fighting against the cold,
Holding, close against the night,

Words flow forth,
Strung together,

By oxygen and carbon,
and all the molecules,

And I sit, I sit,
in quiet mourning,

your the worst.

You are the worst human,
I'm certain that no one
ever wants to touch

Your genitals are the worst,
I'm getting sick, very sick,
just thinking about the idea,

Of them, I'm not sure,
If i can bide my time,
until your dead.

Then, I'll dance and sing,
and yell and scream
out loud, and joy shall,

Breath into my lungs,
Pump blood in my veins,
and set me down again.

Thoughts Bouncing Off Your Ceiling Fan

I let you pretend,
That it meant something,
When we fell asleep,
Lying side by side.

But really I was closed in,
If I woke you up,
On my way out,
We would have had to talk,

About it.

But if I let you pretend,
Then maybe in the morning,
We'll both be as ashamed as I am,
And neither of us will have to talk.

We'll both pretend,
Nothing happened,
And maybe we can forget,
That's what I'm hoping for.

Conversation

I'm not going to listen.

I wish I had never come off as,

That guy who listens.

When we're talking,

I drift in and out.

Even when I'm talking.

Mostly, I have this to say.

I would be happier,

So Much happier,

If we didn't have to pretend,

Like we cared about each other.

That would be great.

But for now,

I'm going to finish my drink.

And leave you forever.

Fucking Feminists

She said she wasn't a feminist,

But that was her lie.

When I asked her,

As I pulled the chair out for her,

If she liked to be on top,

She replied of course,

Doesn't everybody?

And she sat down.

I told her yes,

But that was my lie,

Because sometimes,

Even during coitus,

People get lazy,

and lose sight of their goals.

Later she let me be on top,

And I hated her for it.