Shit sometimes

Shit sometimes is slow and warm.

(For those unlucky) Shit
sometimes pierces with
an impatient grinnn
                               n
                                   n
                                       nnn

Shit sometimes is the best
place to read,
few well-placed cracks se par at ing
you from a nauseous sink in
a dress of hair and the occasional
stew of toothpaste and noodles.

How much wood

Woulda wood chuck fuck

Ifa wood chuck could chuck fuck?

As I try to think
with the stars in gaze
still nothing goes pink
in my disguised brain
for the sky isn't you

that's why I've gone insane

Fiddling with plastic squares punched into an even bigger plastic square that opens up a small screen of a less detailed version of your face, my only vice these days.

We're running someplace and the trees are green because we've glued all the clones onto them and spray painted them blue and then yellow, to be all alone in this forgotten fire unmad house that we've created out of nothing, we're God.

Bad kids.

I can draw now, according to this textbook on my counter, before my proportions were all wrong and the sharp outline of my figure was taking away depth to my characters, expanding the cartoon feature. Shutup.

Your shape I certainly like, but I like too the shape your shape makes in the empty spaces.

In the empty spaces, I'll find you, not only in an untitled folder on a desktop with dancing shadows, but also beneath a tree and by the river where you long to fall asleep in silence and not in hot trendy bodied drunks.

I'm sorry.

But this is not the nice little poem you asked for me to write you.

This poem isn't even a poem.

You're imagining it.

I'm not even here, I'm behind you about to blindfold you with ten fingers and giggling before I ask you where you've been and where your bed is and the number to your roommate so we can ask him to stay with his girlfriend.

Here

Here

The people here are

     aural flare guns.

entertainting, To each Other: 

Elidists. Or Forwardly 

Intellectuals. Or Normals. Or

   

In their mouths are

   sticks and stones brea

king me with colored silence

                                     someone 

must

                                     charge 

rent for a

                               sit in Quiet

Someone Quiet…

hey you there-

En

ter your taint [of

love] in me so

I can write more poems

, Radiant cheeks that hide shy

from my

drunken

semi-

biserious eye

Things we gotta do

ice skating, boating, rowing, fishin (while kissin), start a garden

be good cooks

pasta cooks, blueberry muffin chefs (and we'll prefer to be called chefs rather than bakers)

kiss in warm rain

try on wigs, walk down the street with them- dance off! (dressed in costumes so no body will recognize us)

handcuffed together for a day

dream tease #?

bent over to kiss your patient face

bent over head into patient wall                  
                                                                       fell back giggling                 into sleep


dream tease

Time away

Once upon a time came
upon
upon
up
&
on again How about
Instead Many upon some times
Stories manifest far from fantasy We found
Friends fabricate
defunked happenings
Repeated in reality

an unsettling
Ree-al-eh-tee rings ravid
planet waves throughin me

a machine converting thoughts of a silly poem that is a body

With any dedication one does not change. After work you come home, shed your tire and you know next is to plant your teeth in ice cream with sprinkles. That dedication will be your healthy routine, essence of primal innocence of wanting.

You're my cup of tea.

this different one:








































even this space can't show how much     she fills me &
                                                             deserves no disappointments
                                                                                                       appointmented
                                                             but a battlestation bunk 
                                                             atop mine; never knowing
                                                                                                   (or noticing)
                                                             the siren call of war across basecamp (school/jobs suck)
                                                             We throw our bags on
                                                                                               toss aside nights worth of love laundry &
                                                             hold ourselves in-to a familiar-blue wheeled box
          Slither sidestreetssssssssssss        Steal free stuff from the enemies who charge fingers for words                                                  
                                                                                                               (so really, we're making freedoms!)
                                                            scour 'em perfectly                                                          
                                                            Thank you thank you thank you
                                                                                                          for painting my melancholy life with    
                                                             less piss-in-every color & more wordly wonders


            
Whether at an air raid scramble or a carnival massacre health clinic ranting riot brought to you by Kellog's 
we will bump into each other
                        shake hands
                        realize: hey, this isn't feeling right
                        &
                        retreat feet by sheath of 7 steps away &
we will bump into each other
                       shake lips
                       trace the designs grown into our curves
                       read every document ducttaped down
                       until we know &
                       cry
                                
: For this different one in my head
                             this only thing
                             that listens