year in review (january 2013)
you have sad eyes
for calendar years and fort-nights
“ain’t no such thing as karma” - you have a lilt in your voice
you have prayers
in new languages (and God you have such sad eyes)
i’m not learning
swallow your tongue, so deep it can
touch your spine and
swallow your blood, or spit it out so it
touches mine ; you have a certain mood to everything you say
and i promise i will stop trying to place it if you stop trying
to teach me
so i’m never learning
potential is the God of karma
no-one ever expects anything to change but the
poison at the back of my throat makes it acutely clear to me ;
is only the beginning
March 9, 2012 at 5:13am
valves (march 2012)
i worked today. in order to answer to my potential, and
today being the day they crown someone holy and erect new rites
of passage, i worked today. from dusk to the next dusk, i worked.
they’ll identify me by my defining features and if they find my body,
i’ll make sure to leave proof of the choices i made
you are becoming the choices i’ve made, and i can’t be scared.
i can’t let myself be scared yet
they identify me by my valves and the hardware inside me
they produce the sloppy epoxy and makeshift organs,
muscle-surrogate and post-genetics.
frankensteined chest where potential’s been etched my
i just want to impress upon you
i just want to impress
i just want
ii. there was a breach of cause, but we all avoided the conversation.
there’s been something on this floor, it moves and breathes
in time with my footsteps, but we have never met
we have never projected
i can do all this through him who gives me strength, right
they identify me by my valves and the hardware inside me
is the day they build a statue in your honor. (existence)
copper now but eventually a cerebral green
cerebral green, cerebral green
copper now, but eventually – features accurate. i can feel your expression in the metal
i can’t help but to feel traces of – clarity? worth?
open self: view seeker, traces of the wild? potential?
trying, now that i can feel more lucid. there is
(i just want)
now that i can feel more lucid
now that i can live past sixty
i can do all this through him who gives me strength
welts (march 2012)
there is concession in my blood. i just
want to feel your shape. there is
concession in my blood. i just want to
feel your shape. there is a heartbeat in
the shape of a rabbit’s paw and it’s
i have an idea, where we explore its architecture and geometry
there is reaction in my blood, God i swear i want to know
i. my first breath was
anxious and hesitating. you learn
birth is a right. your first breath was
you’ve done this before
i watched your teeth grow
there is a smaller me inside
my stomach and He exists and breathes
and He operates
you learn to be born.
you learn to be born.
January 21, 2012 at 6:33am
freewrite on an ambiguous concept (january 2012)
what have i laid out; all of these things and what have you
unspeakable – broken tongues and syllables arranged in nonsense.
what have we here? who’s this? things have been spontaneous recently
and i’m sorry i haven’t come around as much. really, i’m sorry
but i can’t offer anything more than my apologies. between
being broke and my habits i can’t offer you much, but
it snowed last night into this morning –
looking for sleeping drugs, finding nicotine instead
isn’t that a stimulant?) fuck you fuck you fuck you it gets me
it gets me dizzy, what have you –
what have, you get me dizzy. what have you gotten me into?
(i laid your clothes out so they’ll be ready when you wake up,
but if you’re not sleeping i guess you can help me)
good love they call it
they call it good something
valerian root grows a couple inches (january 2012)
how’s everything look? it’s becoming less and less easy to tell. if you
can hold on; to every one and every thing you’ve taught, and if you can hold on to – hold onto someone, because it’s nothing to be described.
oh my God. i couldn’t have expected anything, because there’s nothing we needed
i couldn’t have expected anything, because there’s
nothing we needed.
because it shouldn’t hurt. i’m well, but old, and filled with glass and dirt. dried up.
i’m a smoker now – i’ll indulge in the kitchen, but i can’t let my father see me do it;
i doubt that he would stop me, but i’m scared he’d try to see me through it.
really, i’m just scared. you’re worth
everything you talk about, and this is the family we built. and, when i look up,
aimlessly and rubbing my temples because, well, it’s pleasant enough, and
wishing i was born somewhere more conducive to personal ideal, i always hope
you’ll call but i could never bring myself to ask. but…
but can you put a value on it?
i think i could keep up with you if given a chance.
do you ever see God?
do you ever see God in –
open up your walls, to the exact height and twice the
width of my body. i can camp there, living slightly off the grid,
and i can invent a language –
as to say what i’ve been trying to without the pressure that comes with it.
forge runes and letters build a syntax tell no one
the floorboards tell stories, the plants are dried and the
last ancient race
tells half-truths about the pretext to define a brand new conclusion.
forge tunes and better yourself but tell no one
the stairs are crooked and my throat is wide open,
and the penultimate race –
the future of us as machines, wires augmenting the temporal lobe, epoxied
and running towards the delicates,
when you’re electronic you can never lie
i think i could keep up with you if given a chance
ambrosia/lye (december 2011)
i’m shot – that is to say the first words i’ll croak out post-existence will be “thank you.”
see, what we’ve failed to understand is, while learning by definition and pursuing past logical points of respite, we’ve forgotten to be cognizant.
thank you. thank you for-ever.
“thank you.” is it easy enough to understand when i put it in those terms?
papa my bones hurt.
God do my bones hurt.
that is to say, the last words i’ll croak out
prior to the Accidents will be “i could have never lived up to it, anyway.”
this is the marker for a year,
i promised to be cognizant.
so the first thing i believed will be the last thing i expand on.
tell my country everything, that in the effort to
reestablish manhood, i lost a lot of little pieces.
what’ll i live up to?
untitled (december 2011)
i have already memorized, but need to find something
better? potentially. dry heaving in the public stall at 5:00 am (give or take, doesn’t time run together?)
- towards the end of my mathematical capacity/amphetamine binge -
for me, for you. because learning that even my closest cultivated friends are
and my closest cultivated ideals are
i need to move before the smell sets my insides off again
i need to move.
personal potential aside i wish there was more for me here.
personal potential aside i wish for once i could think straight.
but today i am especially proud;
you learn to love the things you live without.
November 15, 2011 at 2:14pm
something is wrong with text on tumblr. i took a screenshot instead.
October 21, 2011 at 12:06am
sometimes, i find myself dying to pretend
(as do you, i’ve found)
i won’t say i never considered it. (to be loved in that manner
that we shared a facility for,
to seamlessly integrate into one undying facet
to mark the spot on the grass where
you chased me, and -
and i hurt myself;
despite the obvious disjoint that would cause now,
that manner is hard to say no to)
i used to wonder about you a lot.
no two thought patterns can occur simultaneously on the plane.
with the aftermaths and
those who do everything –
when i cracked open the sun
to find the fruits of my labor,
i had to prove to everyone
that breeding forth new dispositions
and cheerier ideals
was both counterproductive and antithetical.
i am the Storm you wrote about, years past,
putting forth a semblance of realization:
understand i am not whole,
i may never be whole. stepping forward was a hard transition,
when all i’d ever learned was how to look the opposite way
and walk backwards.
do you remember when i could still swim,
and when every breath wasn’t a race against lungs and character?
give me character, so
so i can give a template
lord give me character
because with wear is the only way I can come close to fitting the outstanding precedent.
October 20, 2011 at 11:59pm
“this is where, like…
and everything, right?” i don’t even begin to fathom cause;
there are germs on every inch of the surface but
i can let them eat me up; in my haze i can lay
in these pools
in staggers streetwise
are we streetwise are we as
He turns to morocco-surrogate, before my eyes was sight. protectorisms;
I am. emil, what’ll it take? this
is where life begins
and everything right. wan grin, wax pathetic what
are those holes in your thumbs? when I make those
noises I am not trying to whimper, I am trying to whisper But
I know what I sound like: Every chance element,
every chance you get; the northern places of my scalp
were meant to stay covered. if I could
actually see you and put my head far;
i guess i sound like your sodium. i guess i sound like your mother.
“were they used
to hang you up
when you got tired?”
– further than it’s gone, through the atmos and fear and the burn
holes with my tender digits through the plaque and the fatigue call
me a Pet i’m anxious
call me a cab, I’m the rancor
pet me till I’m anxious and find a traitor
we’ll skin him