{WHYTHEFUCKAMISTILLAWAKE}

i wonder where i wander when i open up my eyes

id rather hide away from light and let my spirit fly

and in that instant i instantly saw that the pencil of my mind hard started to carve and got stuck in a groove and what was it doing? i dont write poems i write words that are moving around words that are proving that words that were using are just worth what were fusing and inducing when we inflict them on each other and in their vicinity they become aware of the space that surrounds them and the words that they stand on and hold up and the ones that close in from all sides and every single word was placed into the block after being chopped from the mind and alligned on a pixel fixed with by a sick soul driven by his only drive to be moving and moving and moving and intertwined in the twine that keeps his head around his mind we look and we find that the hair that grew there was just vine kept for barely the sake of bearing the weight of the words he couldnt carry and he dropped them behind him as he ventured into the woods but who ate them and now couldnt return and he never remembered what he dropped and thats all the words that hes got he just stirs them around in a pot and reuses them a whole hell of a lot a hole in hell was the lot that the coal sells for the plot to take over the road out of nod and we are defiling the crimes by assuming the rhyme and line after line after brother shaking line is the only achievement that was ever designed and the self was fulfilled but the price was a dime and we should have just left it on the street in the first place.

SIX NOVEMBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{fragmentsofboysthatreallymeannothingtonobodyatallnonotevenme}

i followed in your footsteps

the ones left in the sand

and left behind my own prints

in the places you did stand

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

creeper creeper pumpkin eater took its heart and baked the seeds for long enough to make them crunchy slightly salty slightly pinker throw them at me little horn bees stinging singing while their thorns bleed freeing me from all my organs eating all the pumpkin chortlings

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

the exroom left the exboy in the exworld on his own and etch-a-sketched a neckless freckle trying to make its way home. but wrote it down in lavish poem and scripted screens to film the void

####################

blah blah blah blah

im young

and i have mars

take me take me take me take me

stealing from the candy jars!!!

listen at the doorway listen! hear them hearing us hear them!

tweedle deedle sell the riddle! feedle us a candy thumb!!

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FIVE NOVEMBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{like most of my thoughts incomplete....}

PART I???

i set adrift a little ship

i sailed it cross the sea

into the waves my oars i dipped

i floated out to sea

and when i was surrounded by

a feeling wet and blue

i leapt right off my ship from high

and dropped into the blue

as i went down the surface rose

so high above my head

but deeper still my body dove

the light was just ahead

and when i grabbed a hold that light

the world below i saw

was filled with stars and their starlight

the world below i saw

i looked back up and there above

was nothing there to see

so i went down much farther down

to see what i could see

the earth came up it met my feet

the rocks below were cold

the destination not concieved

by the waters deep cold

a field sprung up before my eyes

a sun bloomed in a hurry

the warmth caressed my face and i

thought best to leave to hurry

into the shade i leapt i dashed

a grove it grew for me

protected from the rays i crashed

the leaves they fought for me

TWO NOVEMBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{twofer dofer whatyer usedter flater stiller sinker chose sir}

tricycle tricycle three circles three sickles three heads of three wheats three barleys three meats three plates for three dinners three lights for one dimmer one cow for six teats and one cone for one treat one street for two feet a hundred battles all defeats one victory ahead in time one desert sands with lines fifteen lines one word one message one hand one fish one plan reddish left tan

remember

observe

return

control

reburn

rehold

rehab

we sold

refab

ricate

describe

relate

too late

soon fate will take its cake that it wont bake and it wont save but it will savor our fading failure and repossess festering funnels of

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Break

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

in thought

in time

but unpublished still

around around the wheel

and grinded finer still

the train jumped the track thinking it could fly but only its smokestacks could ever kiss the sky...

ONE NOVEMBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{for want of a title the plot was lost}

and into the black stained canvas we proceed for the second time only to have the sheets ripped by the jagged emotions that come from the motions that we wind the key so that we can complete and into the pitfall we rise above ourselves and look down on the places where we have come from and we always return to the places that pain us the most and from our holy mountaintop we drop like birds who have no longer given themselves the desire to flap their wings so we fall and sing as we whistle towards the abyss that our drifting has caused us and be we covered in glitter or gold littered with mud and left in the cold when the pride leaves the lion the lion still sighs and the cat burglars conspire into the deepest of their desires and steal from themselves the only things that they have left and regift it and deepen the pit in which the reaper sits and gleefully gets his musical fits from pulling on the heart strings and blowing through the pipes that were pure until the fires came from within and melted them in to a purely abstract lump of glass that still glistens in its beauty but can no longer function as it was intended and instead it went in to the cold room and condensated tears all over its form for it cuold no longer form the spaces where its eyes had been and that is when the fall began in colors of gold and brown of red and yellow and we all watched as the green died and the trees cried rainbows before they died before they could be reborn once the winter was gone, the winter that had not dawned and the printer of frozen calm would doze the cove into its arms and tinker till it opened small enough to let in light and call out to the ones who stood in stalls behind the doors that banks install and never let out just kept it all in and wanting for skin upon skin wrapped up in or atop of silk or cotton would leave but a trim of the fabric left enough to show you shame as you try to hide behind it and defend your findings before returning to sizing up the world around you while the world inflated its ego behind you and birthed billions of souls who never would find you or touch you or scuff you with coal charred by sinus and still it could blind us with the myriad of triumphs continually denied us and inserted right by us in bodies that would try us and lies that would like us as instead of the egg only shells would crack righteously still so invitingly calmly and brightened me staunchly and so white they seemed like the one prize that we still could not grow to reach and thus i inherited all of the omelets cheese broken and tastes like grease and lays out and still i preach to ears that could never see and yet they still try to read words i could never speak so pouring it out seemed better than spilling these thoughts onto your syringe plunging into decent reaping the coldest winds blowing it back again closing our eyes again rolling on backs again feeling the black come in opening fast to it painting it black again all for the sake of a shake caused by not a wind we see it is just another stained black canvas...

ONE NOVEMBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{all lights look like cop cars at night}

and so on the eve of the hall surrounded by lovers within and without i need no other than the one curing drought and the only lover wanted by me is in my fist i grasp him and he starts to sweat on my wrist and his grip is cool and his kisses wet and on my tongue he is warm and he burns in my throat and so from fist to lips to burning desire to sharing that fire and reflections always double so youre never alone we hold each other through the night at least i hold him down inside until he leaves me in the morning somewhat less than i was the night before and somewhat changed for the worse, but my breath still smells of him and his kiss still lingers in the back of my throat and i still long to wrap my hand around his neck and bring him back to my lips and always one more kiss will do the trick i swear this will be it but still i want him more and more and the more of him i have the more i want still until ive had my fill and i cant want i cant feel i cant stand and everything spins all because of him! but still i want him! and still i have him! and for now as he stares back at me i am no longer solitary and he completes me and so i consume him as such but he was like wilde or maybe it was i for love was the cause of the others demise and so with a smile i turn off the light and sleep kindly and warmly and cuddling tight the memory of his cool smooth skin and the firmness of his body and the way he made me feel when he was inside of me and he never grows tired of me and he never fights with me he just tickles me pink and makes me think the things im afraid to think and makes you hear the things i dont want you to hear and always is there to lend me an ear and so ill leave it here and go and enjoy him as long as he's near....

TWENTY-NINE OCTOBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE

{render me your ear or tend to me your fears}

aaliyah wrote me a four page letter and i need a reason why not to respond....im a drift on a pond of sympathy and doubt and if i sink in the drought ill float on the sands of time surfing through the hourglass and down the bottle neck to the bottom of a bottle while the top of the bottle goes down through the bottom of my neck into the top of my liver like a quiver full of arrows shooting straight into me as i turn to the side making a thousand tunnels through my body and naughty are the thoughts inside of me as i project them onto the stars as they project their light into eternity and when we cease to be we still exist as points of light waiting to be seen light years away and fighting tears away we bite our nearest phase and slip into the stream and thus we dream of the eons that we spent growing strong inside of the primordial pool and the prehistorical schools of thought and the ancient trails that we still walk and the naked tails that weve all lost and the forests through which we were stalked and into the tourists who are unable to walk and so we see with our sights and we flee with our fancies and are altered but slightly and back into the trance we slip into the stream and underwater screams arent even heard by fish just the wishes that we kissed into the past before we relapsed into our state of restless rest where we never progress and never regress we simply exist and are dragged into the future by the wake of time and our eyes are open and our hearts are closed and we always know what passes us by in the waking mind and the sinking body submerged by the mud and the ferns and the moss that redistribute our loss into the life force of the microrganisms who migrate into the nitrous orifice and the process of decay unlocks our nutrients and water us down with the subtle taste of nuclear fission and risk it all on the contamination of our intentions disected with dissension and we never bought we rented and content meant settlement and we were too inflated with the dreams of the failures of our elders and we held on too long to the promise of the prince and the novice and the wrench and we were wrenched free from the log with the bench marked with landmarks and the sand larch was ground into saw dust and sent amongst the raw brush and the cooked combs and the rooked bishop who mistook the queen for her majesty and at last he was free and couldnt see the masks who wore him and the fasting had worn him thin enough to slip through those glass bars like air through water and light through stone and the porous pumice would pour us promises for our tommorrow is loaded with quite and noted as right and still wouldnt fight if we pushed it through a window so we grinned low and soon sowed the seeds of our revenge and watered them with the blood of our rage until we poisoned them with our past and cut them down as the strongest foods ground from the harvest and planted into the star dusted scene painted onto the prisons of our skulls on our souls.....

TWENTY-SEVEN OCTOBER TWO-THOUSAND-NINE