nineteen

Nineteen

19.1

You were pregnant with your second baby I asked who the father was and you didn’t know you had Doritos crumbs all over your shirt she hated the skinny blonde waitress that lived in the apartment upstairs I didn’t know if it was the skinny part the waitressing part or the blonde part that she hated the most maybe it was the historical combination of all three or possibly two characteristics were prime she was chewing on the bad characteristics of religion she really didn’t like the taste in her mouth it left her in a relative fog I am reading the words on the cereal box as she weighs out my ounce she seems so pink to me like something new that hasn’t been defiled yet I’m looking for the tag that says remove after purchase you smile at me with an awkward smile like you can’t quite read me responsibilities peek around the corner my pants around my ankles her hopes are glorious I think she charged me extra this time you lick your lips and sell another to another and make an exchange of bodily fluids suck fuck smoke snort I tell her stop looking for the goodness in my heart the outlaw and suicide now there will be three to think of to fight for to scratch and scrape out a meager living you tell me that you are doing the best you can

19.2

I tell you I love you every day the horrible things the unlovable things they pile up outside my door like a dead animal blotted and stinking a last cigarette a theory of love that has never been tested I would feel that you could do justice good and not feel betrayed there was no candy for the whore her cunt dried up and died from the lack of team spirit she was never comfortable in this Midwestern town the boys would come and sing to her window I always sang to her pussy I spoke words to it I gave it a name and it called me sweet thang and honey pie told me of her dreams of being somewhere else and being someone else she was tired of playing her part in this world she wondered how she ever got started could she just retire could she wipe it off like someone’s last inspirational spurt from the open pores of society like a broken doppelganger success was measured differently by each of us I was performing miracles back then with triplets and paradiddles no surprises no trouble no blame you consume the gutter and the feed the crocodiles in the back yard pushed fingers into the womb I bite into you-you gave a fuck you danced no speak no watching eyes closed and still dreaming a nightmare I looked at you I only looked at you but you would always look inside of me

19.3

Running slamming this way out realizing that there is no way out no way to make this any better drive by shootings hiding behind a rock dim lights loud words cosmic vibrations this world we were born into parasitic masturbation combing through the want ads there is an ad for a plumber no experience necessary washing up on your shore I am stealing your meds and putting them in the old man’s breakfast cereal I am reading your box I could have been your father your mother was such a whore you do suck cock just like her though standing still moving around holding you up against the world do you remember toxic shock syndrome your sister was good too I think I like her best of all she used to bend over stretching real tight a fucking hard rod reading Foucault and speaking like a modernist sometimes there is a disconnect between life and life you are a battery operated sex machine that I order from a men’s magazine to box tops and 20 dollars I think I will call you my summer of relativity when I started to not give a damn I am living in the Panopticon we studied it in deviance class I was auditing the class so I didn’t have to do all the bullshit I ran out of toilet paper so I used a couple of pages from your poetry book my shit sticks really well to that one love poem

19.4

Genocide suicide euthanasia euphemism contagion a missed reservation I’m eating fish today just to make you happy the feet on the street vigilance another fraud seeing through your disguise lies and hell’s spell your life I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks under the cloud of slaughtered pigs bent lives and ignorance lost shackles and chains tragedy bones and gristle abrasive ball of flame crippled walrus divorced from reality utterly meaningless a tragedy comes down the road looking for a victim finished the surprise devoid of distance there is always music playing in the background she did most of the talking she was writing a novel like Henry Miller I might have told you this before her teeth looked sharp I wondered if she would bite me if I asked her politely a tiny smile a secret between us she drew a little blood two different speaking but not this time we could see each other eye to eye salvation there I said it could this be true such a word such a concept I stopped tagging the walls of the city I saved my paint for Sundays I can never remember what she looked like I have forgotten her face but her words stay inside me and the memories of those sharp teeth

19.5

People there is sadness inside of me today when I read your words this sadness crept inside my heart like I image death must creep I haven’t picked up the book by Schopenhauer in weeks life is full of suffering life doesn’t have a purpose there is nothing to guide us look at how we live how life cycles through life after life we emerge from the larva stage mate and die a cycle of life and death and it doesn’t add up to anything repeating itself the illusion that we are special there is no one reality that underlies all things the world of our experience and the world that would exist even if we were not here to experience it the will is chaos a tornado an enormous force speaking to you from inside of you answering this force desire to satisfaction and back to desire the will speaking inside of us the haunted dance hall a primal scream in last August Jesus and Mary Jane sharing with us their psycho-candy a bloody valentine a well known bloke in the café drinking a coffee or two his hands were bloody from killing the dinosaurs another day in the record store my bursts with pride as the tears come to my eyes all that is wrong you only hear me when I’m not singing touching you I forget myself I forget another friend like so many before the things on my mind have been cataloged and categorized the professors are analyzing their meanings and measuring all the implications I’m trying not to live like a hermit I’m trying to reach out to you in the darkness you know that the darkness isn’t so bad when you are not alone

19.6

The fine art of slicing Spanish ham he carried a potato in his pocket it was his good luck charm he was embarrassed that I was telling her about it I didn’t recognize the tears in her eyes an affordable smile I called and rescheduled my dentist appointment I watched a video of Meytal snowboarding she has an adorable smile I posted a video of hello rodney’s drawings responded to a video about people’s belief in god I didn’t get to read that book on my desk I was frightened by the smudge of ashes on her forehead it covered almost all of her forehead I thought she had some cancer I am feeding her the entrails of my kill there was another man who carried a potato in his pocket I think it was a character in a book we could all be characters in a book it is the death that I live with I have lived with it for ten years now I remember when I prepared myself to go I was ready for it and then it didn’t come and now I’m ten years older and wondering about the odds of life and the living the thing is that living ten year longer that I was supposed to has changed me I’m not will to surrender so easily now death is in for a fight now not for me but for the others I guess my connections to others have grown stronger I have grown accustomed to living with the clueless  

19.7

Lackadaisical pretentions not withstanding I am clinging to your smog breathing upright and feeling those ambushes for the two packs of cigarettes my skin is still alive although I have had several close calls I glance at your secrets as you spread them apart I could never forget the woman and her secrets I am showing you my psychic heart strings how they vibrate with intensity how they languish in the cracking sun the parading stampede your murder was a guest in the upstairs room the one with the small bed and curtains from the 70s I held you up to the window and asked if there were any takers there were none you wanted to fuck me like a postmodernist I ask if that meant you were going to fuck me seven ways to Sunday each quite different with its own meaning and interpretations of course each fuck would not add up to some grand theory that would explain all fucks both good and bad

19.8

There is an open mouth laying open there are monsters in the fields I am looking for a puzzle to solve a whimsy to give away I will write and give it away I don’t care if you publish this you probably have better things to focus on we really don’t know each other we have not established some reciprocal relationship I’m probably not going to submit this piece anyway the things that you need seemed too much too harsh too stringent I think the tone of the words put me off more than the meaning of the words we are beyond merely reading the surface meanings of words Isn’t more what we don’t say than what we say there is so much I haven’t said yet sometimes I wonder about the time that is left probably no one will read this anyway since I’m not going to tag anyone it will just sit there in cyberspace alone without purpose just like the rest of us the bulk of the meaning is submerged the similar are nebulous the gimmick at the expense of the human element a soft landing with a pack of Marlboros in my pocket a prelude to romance you wanted to keep your distance fearful of the copycat culture yearning for some true insight ah this thing you call insight is a fickle bitch no she hides from you and then gives you clues to where you can find her but you are always one step behind you can hear her laughter echoing through the thin walls insight is teasing you and you keep fighting the good fight and claiming to be low-tech I dislike you more and more I am reading 17 puzzling stories each one is about you 17 different ways for you to die played out in my mind across my retinas your search for meaning takes you to a blank wall and at the wall you are shot or stabbed or strangled or poisoned it always happens at the blank wall counting your words retracing your steps the chalk line around your body blood stains bodily fluids a spilled purse men in coveralls cleaning the sidewalk the street the park the living room the church steps the city hall the interrogation room the detectives are writing down the details of your long distance love affair the name of all your lovers where you bought your underwear

19.9

A strange incident that leaves the protagonist disoriented you were shrinking getting smaller eventually you were small enough to put you in my pocket We would go to the movies you would sit on my shoulder and watch the movie I went to the store to buy you a doll bed to sleep on and doll clothes to wear you used to crawl under the electric fence you were so brave so courageous when the whole town stood and saluted you I tried my best not to cry I thought I would never see you again the games were something we never thought of I would punch it back to farthest point in my mind I tried to forget you sold strawberries at the market I remember my mother would buy all you had and then she would make me a pie with the berries I think that is why I associated you with sweetness because of the berries I remember when you started to ripen it made me extremely excited just to look at you I was afraid to look at you directly in your eyes so I would have to sneak peeks at you I remember your mother used to make fertility dolls and sell them at the market someone far off is yank at the ends of my rope tugging hard at me pulling me along I have always had this sense that the decisions that I make are not my own that someone else is making my decisions for me don’t try to see yourself in this because I don’t think you are here probing needles into the far reaches of my brain the appointed time of gloom and foreboding a shadow that whispers into my ear and says sweet peppers as if everything has been mechanically calibrated you said the door was looked I was lying on the couch my shoes and socks were on the floor you said that everything just seemed odd and different than before I am reading a new book I just got it from the university library I had one of the librarians help me find it tonya how are your strawberries are they as sweet and juicy as I remember can I put one in my mouth again see my mouth is wide open and your peaches my god your peaches

19.10

Bleary eyed and stumbling over something I remember one time I stumbled over harpo and jane on the floor together jane was embarrassed and harpo was laughing I saw jane sink her claws into harpo’s skin she told him not to move I was just getting a beer out of the fridge I was up late studying I probably had a test the next day in some class it is all meaningless now except for the memory of jane and harpo on the floor together just thinking about it makes me laugh we pretend that the darkness has an ending we curse the sheep as they betray us this brings me so much sadness I am sad beyond measure I am sad beyond countenance I am sad beyond ten fingers and ten toes a rodent face staring back at me invoking the moth and the flame my habits and vices you are living in the past I try to pull you out but it is impossible you said it was nice to burn things with your magnifying glass with jumbled up letters of delicious cake for your brain you say yes swallowed alive by the cake it looked like a test of wills you drape the towel over your shoulders and hold the light up high eating fried catfish each day you stick yourself with needles feeding your need under your skin catnip the deception you said I would like it I bought the tickets for the show those old romantic roles priming the pump with Jack Daniels devastated powerless in a trance I could see right through my hands I am vanishing fast I can’t open my mouth mesmerized by the unreal you are watching me go to pieces your words I won’t let you in my ears you look so much younger you changed your hairstyle I shut my eyes and I can still see you the static noise and the yellowish unnatural glow it seeps inside of me little by little making me its own I am being absorbed by this glow I stare at it and it stares back at me advancing slowly I step backwards as it moves towards me it feels like I breaking up into tiny little light particles and they are slowly being pulled by the glow like a magnetic force you have stayed on inside my head longer than you should have I can’t sleep so I get up and have a beer there is a glow coming

19.11

Descending at a set tempo no opening gravity warps making inroads into my world crumbling sweeping up the dark clouds Ishmael is calling me the screen is dead just like me cold and expressionless read the same articles over again there is a comfort to the similar and the mundane there are no messages in the inbox keep coming out with the endless blah blah blah repeat and rinse spin around in one spot folding time narrowing things down the nutrients strained through a thick filter my fingertips growing stiffer tightening bolts a sharp metallic grating it slices into me the whole world spills out you failed to materialize you do not have any assembly instructs there are no plans for how I should put you together gone out of my reach fake images Stalingrad catharsis take the impressionists I see the devil in my dreams a million names battery acid blistering heat I put her in the trunk of my car sometimes I would tell her that I love her I didn’t consider it personal revenge I’m feeling really violent today I stand behind you in the family picture my last sight of you alive you said that I had beautiful eyes and that you wanted to taste my lips I’m in the lobby of a Kansas City hotel drinking a Jim Beam and diet coke I order you a drink you suckle my vines you tell me you have a dog back home named Kerouac you down your drink and ask if I can give you a ride I tell you there are no free rides

19.12

I’m listening to you sound like an asshole promising life to some god forsaken fool you are stealing the gold out of their mouth a dark infirm promise you smiled at me with that cute look of yours that you bring out for little children and pedophiles I’m watching you smoke another fat Jesus you are so metropolitan with your shades and your brass knuckles you fought in the war for Scandinavia I can taste your desperation how it drains from your eyes the lines from your face you must be invisible to most people they never see you coming down your skin surge and pulse looking for signs of life smeared by the gloom it was your own and not anyone throwing stones the nude observers are glad 600 pictures on my phone in matching suits I watch the chickens peeking at you I am unburdened by their names indeterminate stabbing the blood pools thinking that jazz infests guzzle your coffee a Sunday night your wish for eccentricity there is no stillness to your voice you can change nothing where are your millions I am ready with my blow torch to cut you up into small pieces and sell you for scrap metal you can see nothing you can no longer move small droplets melt and fall on the floor you cannot walk because your legs are tied together boiling a pot full of noodles I lowered the flame to prolong the climax this isn’t Christmas we are not trudging through knee deep snow to get to the local bar I speak to you from the darkness the power of obscurity soul mate out of sequence zen flesh a sudden jump of thought smelling people again culmination my duffle bag under my head smashed through running through my head a new tone of voice passing the time of day you are in bed right now extending my cinder-block you part your lips in the center I stay until 3 in the morning

19.13

singapore zipper first class caboose roamer feathered head wrecked expression of sin and silence garbage cans enchanted lands sneaking around grimy hands troubles a gun and a knife gamut life wire home leaping shadows waterfront backwater churns dirty blur blowing church miracle disguise drinks for everyone beneath the bed bell roped rooftops my bedroom dull girl drunk sick disgusted frightened shot me dismal cell bottles spiritual drink spiders and monsters groaning underground a giant pan of greasy brown face pump blood street walk talk days and days of sorrowful sky sure enough let me off you’d expect white rails tender foot running down the familiar seagull dreams little screams dancing with your daughter big surprise telepathic eyes overnight truckers timid peek a bluff a void a luminous shoulder hope and rut catgut carry me astray trudging up sea roar cattle crossing screaming hen humid mists death rigs sunken earth a pack of wild dogs snarling roots heart’s mouth black things old mule dung beetle east side miles high haunted room lucky guess missing thumb prom dress small crawl beautiful art the enemy hides behind the broken wall throwing rocks hollow trees the harvester of eyes a tangled steep (my mind says sheep) cliff deep down in hidden caves (Plato’s cave) the peaceful path (narrow path) silent wings down the throats of those unlikely seeking chromosomal changes fragile shoulders soiled heads beaten we anesthetize our souls unwelcome trail ugly sacrifice the raw nerve cells a bronze bust of somebody he dragged his left foot both hands flat on your lap she didn’t mind that there were some things you could not understand such as a singularity that goes beyond individual differences the application of a different animal to be held together by one thread thin and bare almost ready to break and bringing impending doom a tiny crack that widens to an expansive gulf pounding out Sinatra covers (it might have been Santana originally) and getting on the wrong bus in a field in New Jersey I remember you had flowers in your hair and a six string that was out of tune a suddenly familiar face transfixed confused barely noticed you wanted to pin me down to some calculations of demeanor once you believed that god was on our side now you stand on the street corner handing out free wheels you are putting indifference into harpo’s meals he eats them with eyes of a hungry man 16 dancers clapping their hands tonya barks like a seal miss palm is folding up her table cloth she says she won’t read my fortune anymore because I only pay her with feelings miss palm wants a red-necked man with dirt under his fingernails bonnie says don’t think twice when you jump across the river my mind is too clear to carry your cross I think you might be able to convince willie to carry it I played with bonnie all day long while we watched you dying it was Natalie who finally threw a blanket over your truth and lies they were bleeding out in front of us and we only asked for more I counted out 27 dollars and gave it to bonnie to buy some loaves of bread I was planning on performing a miracle everyone sat down on the hill and harpo played his flute Brooke got excited and took of her chains and danced around the hill her insight had become vicious Pop Bottle Allen said he was hungry for a sign Nasty Jack is shifting through the remains of this burn out world he was hoping to find something that would take the sting away Nasty Jack sawed open your heart and pulled out the untouchable things that you never let anyone see Billy the junkie wanted to hear those words from you that had never been said he looked up at me with his innocent eyes and said this can’t be all there is cannibalized puerile frustrating the masses they gathered with torches the jury had no verdict I mean the physical thing I’m sitting in the kitchen stirring your pot I once saw you drown a young man in there just so you could steal my copy of the communist manifesto I read about it in the papers how you have broken people’s necks because they denied your manifest destiny you have created an ideology that blinds and distorts you call it entertainment you call it beautiful sleep I have taken you out of your house out of your car out of yourself and I brought you here to this kitchen to feed you little spoonfuls of truth I am cutting the stitches that once closed your ears I gave you a piece of my heart so that you could grow another I gave you my shoes so that we could walk like one another in the smallest and the greatest sense walking backwards and pretending not to see you I was staring at your toes as they snuck out people disappeared this is not where I was meant to be walking around with the blackness buried the suffering in a thick sweater and under the ground Captain Marc’s face looks worn down he looks like mismatched dishes left out to dry in the warm sunshine I put the mud over your eyes I was handing you an award for being the most invisible I have loved you since you fell in the creek a misfit did you see that person in the bushes did you read at the Coachella lunches did you stab the Spartan and kill the wild beast made the cut we ran on for hours there was a fire in our lungs a piece of Yeats and the photos of your mother that you didn't burn with the others staring down at the little girl dances I touch with all the magic of a shaman I speak to your inner beauty I listen to the turtle repeat the words from that song by Huey Lewis and the news I pull out my bag of judgment and roll a joint your torn black grave corpuscle madness as we dig into the morning of void I wired you up to the bomb taught you all the prayers made sure that you knew how to bleed your sister was winking at me on Delancy street I had a tall bucket of well wishers sloshing out the sides I could forgive you if only I could find you I know you had a vision of what life should be like and we never got close to it until now you are sweeping the floor and I am stacking the oranges you were a naked barbie doll missing an arm with lipstick stains on your ass I pulled the gum out of your hair as best as I could cheap junk for the need everybody has a need

19.14

I saw you through the looking glass a name that I couldn’t remember a face just another face in the crowd of faces looking inscrutable impression making genes how things move in the direction they do escapes me you asked me to dance we danced on the clouds we were choosing things with our eyes closed random piles of life stacked neatly as tall as skyscrapers I was a dwarf and you were a giant confusion doesn’t matter to us dwarves we are used to confusion as long as I can dance to whatever music is playing we became storm clouds that threatened the world with rain and thunder soft wavy hair flowing in the wind this beautiful motion erupting from your body a bird perched outside my window different than before the finished product will go on a rampage all kinds of people with some sort of reason you are sticking out your tongue at me hiding under your hoodie being unkind using me up and then you walk away I read your letter it was invisible to my heart I took hold of you and held you in my arms it was fuzzy and limbic my cords are all untied I have washed the dark monster with you in the church in your back yard he was so dirty and misleading you shake you bleed and cry out from something I can’t deliver my truck has a flat tire and I’m walking away from you my gun is empty and I have no patience for indecision and your repentant mothers I reach out to you like a lie I don’t know how to live like you do I only have my ways and means and they are true and tested so many angels walking through your density floating on water I’m diving into you searching for that pearl the left nostril of the soul you were born under a bad sign and I nailed you to your cross silly angels fighting over the cruel sing you motherfuckers sing for your bowl of gruel you were connecting the dots with a worn out magic marker I could barely make out your trail you waterproof reasons and your mob rule aspirations you dart down an alley to get your fix consuming the dreams of the wretched flap your wings and fly tell yourself that life is a god-like delusion outside the margins I did not interrupt your lines when you were on stage pretending that your life is a real story I have been working here since before the revolution you would draw feelings out of me feelings that I had never used every ten years it is done again I am doing it again and again bright lampshade my tortured skin walking with my left foot forward the first step into oblivion I throw no shadow the light absorbs into me the backing peeled off and stuck to the wall all will vanish it only takes a day to forget you on me this house of darkness this heart of blackest day the nights go on taunting this cave of flesh you smile at 30 counting your dimes thinking of 9 lives you set the trash cans on fire burning your past it all goes up in smoke the garbage loving crowd begs for more you destroy and annihilate each and every one they never count the costs for their betrayal they push and shove to get closer to the carnage they love to experience the destruction they want more I unwrap you body and soul stripped bare naked revealing your darkest secrets I examine your hands you are flesh and bone you are always the same to me no matter how I come the same for each generation you were no accident you meant to last it out to fade away into the walls every time you told yourself something different I pulled your snakes out from under you

19.15

It is during the evening hours that you do it so exceptionally well the feel of hell the smell of the fire you want it to feel so realistic amusing screams returning to the same brutish beginnings the rope that hangs from the ceiling to hold the buttercup the same face a miracle the noise of sobs peeling the skin off the door hinges you charge your scars on your credit card it is what credit is for to mutilate and torture the soul the cost of a word the cost of a touch the cost of one tiny drop of blood to appease Dr. Loophole to bring the human back to his flesh wipe away the red from his eyes you are his pure gold baby his highest achievement the crown to his glory as he straps you down humming the yellow rose of Texas you melt like all the other valuable things you turn and have the eternal life the lake of fire you melt into nothing the gold ring on your little finger the pins in your foot the rod of Aaron building your temple to rise up from the ashes Mephistopheles

19.16

 These are the days of our resistance these are the days that we take back what was stolen from us we fight for our rights we fight for our freedoms we will not lay down and die we are building a big enough bomb to put you in you will explode fire and stone can you hear the voices calling out to you asking for your head on a platter we walk on the floor with you under our feet bullet eyes bullet disguise trigger finger mesmerized by the flash of the gun muzzle get up and shout look around and see the decay from your studies in hallucinogens where came to pieces the adopted city in shambles in ruins not a calm place these dripping walls chains by degrees a pile of bones tossed upon the landscape the hand of stillness is a girl’s sad and feeble little creature you can’t do it yourself you need to draw a circle in the ground with a stick there is no need to get angry everyone needs some help the fruit falls into your hands as it falls from the tree they once tried to chop the tree down but I wouldn’t let them I told them no it couldn’t be done not in this lifetime a number of vertical lines on the dirt I get inside you and I use your body to dance without opening your mouth taking possession ready to vanish in one blur to eternity the very act of yearning as beautiful as a dream the dogs are almost here to bite into your flesh to drink your blood out in the middle of the lake rowing in your row boat your heads tuck in the oven snuggling up to Sylvia’s grave you have the smile of a fool it dances across your lips fierce flames secret messages written on banana peels the fork of ingratitude is in your hand Montreal monsters totem pole prophets poppies in my mind the kindness of your concussion we are swimming in the swarm of bees the place where you keep your forces as they burn crosses and shine up your badge in the name of god and goddess gagging your mouth a brown mouse tip toes and the revolution of a fisherman who smokes cigarettes and throws bombs at the bank he is too proud to stand in the unemployment line I have torn off your voice and stuffed it in a jar of pickles I have blinded you with the lies of the dead they can still hurt you they pick at your flesh telling you to jump out the window spreading you like oil I tasted the magnanimity of your open throat the black spike into your heart this is an extreme unction a misdirection the efficiency of extravagant torture

19.17

There is a noose with spider legs and your black coffee stains it hangs by your bedroom window I thought I was dreaming as I watched you the ache broken slips possibilities smooth speed emphatically embracing palpable harsh pretending padded south moving trepidation we look inside and pretend that we see something meaningful to drink with burning loins and applause it was a quick and silent goodbye no grace no loud consternation a small subway ride lost grasp my name I can hold on to emptiness dying electric meditations screen door I may never be happy but sometimes I get a glimpse at the content warm hazy weariness to live without the tired and the foolish now I know you asked me in the strawberry fields about the killings about the rapes they were husky with regret her eyes were downcast in a blue jacket she was looking all over me born like all artificial girls the hate of hypocrisy my love is not totally subjective melting the judge of hopeless waiting by the cars for my pride darting between your lips she screamed or whispered warm and bruised from my kiss a silent dark corrupted way nibbling at her nipples malicious delight thick and on the tip of my tongue trying to get back into the body to seduce electric drowsiness breathless and still incoherent feelings nimbus fluttered enchanted heart I ripped you out of me I kissed her with a hunger with my eyes closed my hand warm and burning into her stomach she said she wanted to hate me a twisted mouth going down deeper

19.18

Like knife thrusts prattling reared up grotesque frantic and so monumental an engine of ecstasy desire swallowed up by a smug sensuous haze a smoldering hole punched I must capture one taste one vision monkeys with a club the angels jumping up and down betting on the fight all life would vanish and you would still cling to a dead cold lifeless hope there are certain people who have this special charisma they can capture your soul with just a look or a smile it is sad that these lucky ones are the ones that leave us too soon it is as if their inner fire was too great to last very long but we were blessed for the time that we had with them grateful to have our lives touched  by a demigod

19.19

Remembering hanging devotion up to my front steps rubbing stone grave prayers postcards sent from camp my first taste of Spanish rice seated on a small island facing forward the firing line the brass shells they believed in magic for years and years I found it strange to discover that the drug runners placed a statue of santa muerte in their cars for protection menstruation the Munich mannequins a mad girl’s love song naked with your narcissism they all died in the fire it was a most terrible crime people were confused as to what to say or what to do; loss destruction ambivalent meanings collide terror buckaroos she wanted to play it off as a joke something to laugh about but her two fists balled up ready to explode first last eternity she said ha ha she fucking loves outer space she put her arms around Waldo west texas twisted shape my mistake bumped oriented shattered broken alone everyone else tangled shapeless fist again suck her tongue burned bridge overcast snow music parade curtains closed broken sign weedy lot snarling dog snarling people inertia vinyl venal crumbling behind another hand in the belly my heart nothing has moved a pill bottle  dance cheeks pure by bone by plate her shirt was torn and dirty the tracks to your neck your silence and hunger they were sliced and served on wheat bread half-dollar eyes blinking kick lessons learned and plans I was sick shower endless things wrists warm bottom starring gravity mouth water bridge sculpture speak fuck flayed extolled pomp back and forth erection cotton sabbatical pining away masturbate chimney smoke translucent god damn it boiled egg salt shaker lonesome skin yellow pages falling away duck feathers sleepless nights muggy ripple cool temple sent me hopes touched pushed knife cold remember concrete girl imagine glassy hand revolutions of fortitude absence mass  precious blown weed gutted dumb I am nothing blind breeze loose seed hidden ash invisible solitude response settled disembodied recollect burgeoning vehement tongue my tongue furry subtext distilled in your eyes hitting the floor wretchedness is mine and I will not share it the girls have disintegrated supple random cold-blooded semantics teeth stopping rolling knees a shotgun and deer slugs leaning on a Gibson then fell the ashes the blackest rainbow one long track a good package it was a blast from the past making money on the clowns getting back to work a good experience the road to hell stealing souls from each other believing in the fucking fairy 200 souls a generic crap pop voice just came out of me my shower head laughs I’m holding my elbow joining the circus raw brutality shadows of melancholy have clouded your eyes imposing the phony spell another penetrating gaze a flight after the shades it was your mission to salvage the pure from the encroachments of the barbarians however the barbarians have overtaken you and now your values are shit your morality is corrupt and your life is worthless it was easy for you to fight tradition when everyone around you were throwing bombs but now your revolution has been co-opted by the wall street marketing machinists they have re-tooled your arguments to sound like pleas for the masses to consume the latest in frivolities you sit back smoking your dope and say that the revolution is coming that it at history’s doorstep while you fall asleep from your satiated life

19.20

The cultural revolution is selling jeans on television the cultural revolution is selling cars a corporate strangle hold the symbols of your youthful rebellion now sell minivans to elderly want-to-be revolutionaries who have grown old and complacent this octopus has captured everything they have a solid grip on your balls and they squeeze to make you squeal for more everything has ended in failure and frustration your heroes are selling reverse mortgages on television and telling the poor to rent to own that monster tv hey get a payday loan don’t worry about the interest you are not at the edge of history looking at the abyss you are asleep on your couch dreaming another wet dream the absence of an American Dada undermine attack and transform you would sell your soul to be the man to suck the corporate cock and become a happy little fool get on the train motherfucker and follow the trail do as they tell you obey your masters follow the rules put this shit into organized little bits that people will find easier to swallow soon they will grow accustomed to eating your shit they will come to depend on it in fact they won’t be able to live without it lets just create a big fucking fire and burn all this stupid shit up why waste your time chasing your tail who told you had a tail anyway is it obvious could it be any clearer integrating infusing marketing serious challenges impossible pop artists on the avenue Madison avenue father figure interpreted flip side search tradition paradox criticism radical rhetoric of rupture underlies focus attention differences mythological  geopolitical realigned alternative montage shockwave stakes trends satisfying sustained suspicions as we juncture to off-shoot mummies and the norms and values of dustbin obsolete phase manifested rejection burdens of history otherness is exhaustion a commodity of metaphoric impossibilities all these phenomena reveal the secret bond the left-handed woman a dead-end street fought and refuted espousal sexual Bastille lumped reception and response altar symbol hungry family resemblance impulse aesthetic shift hegemonic ugly dissonant immoral auteurs disco glitter rock Pynchon fundamentalist believers the nouveau emerges from the filmy terrain a strategic field of death of modernism nowhere articulated vegas illuminating neoclassical resonance as we salute extreme monuments to soon to be dead philosophers utopian extinction reactionary orthodoxy is norma sucking on the opposite numbers a structural inversion splayed and laid out on the discredited shoddiness of moral imbecility