poorly written poem, i’m just tired.
i am standing outside
smoking, flat against paneling
roof jutting out a bit provides
no leniency to diagonal rain or
shield, I don’t want my mother
to know I smoke & I am
very dizzy & stumble when
I burry my cigarette. gutter
assists proper hygiene until
there is no indication of foul play
4:47 pm • 17 October 2012 • 7 notes
Anonymous asked: I WILL DESTROY JUSTIN AND CLAIM YOU AS MY OWN
why uproot a labyrinth?
3:43 pm • 17 October 2012 • 1 note
being introduced to a repeatedly published poet/department head as a “great poet whose name will soon be known” makes me itchy.
3:40 pm • 17 October 2012 • 1 note
may we embrace in an overly
passionate kiss, despite out
current situation? are you willing
to slide your hand belly down? I
want violence & sex & sleep. matching
pace above temperature.
8:11 pm • 16 October 2012 • 4 notes
drug related word play
A tiny thread
eyes all black dubbled over
wretching. What is this? Pointless
to ask. Again, Alas! It’s like being all
shiny and new, never come down from
flying submarines submerged in anti-meta
murky water camouflaged rocky ridges of purple
mountains, man. Just see, Alas! Amphetamine Crash!
4:19 pm • 16 October 2012 • 5 notes
fall is the bridge.
I am seeing anatomy in everything that I
eat, heart valve in an english muffin, tendon
cheese, adipose cellular clusters as egg
yolk. I once read sleeping on your left
side makes you skinnier. I sleep
perpetually on my left, curling to un-
realistic, embracing feminine ego.
my blood has air bubbles & the
light is on in the morgue above
my jaw. investigation takes place
at my ribcage & pulp berries. my
left stance is getting unbearable.
dissection has been caught on
tape. do you have a sleep preference
& an acute awareness of your
surroundings? to hold close.
7:19 pm • 15 October 2012 • 7 notes
factual events are bleak while
levels of spectacular/pathetic.
I have started
biting my nails. this is
common, but a unique
attempt, at self-nurture.
earth scratches its ear &
falls asleep before 2 a.m.,
when we fucked last night, my vision turned into oceanic movements.
my previous fever sought emaciation
1:16 pm • 15 October 2012 • 3 notes
alas, a small poem.
in martyrdom, i mutilate. in
feeling, deny all accusations
of existence. if i were a bigger
person, i would admit
defeat. if i was a skinnier person
i’d be fucking beautiful. i am
all limps without a grasp. lets
say a tie, a plain looking approximation
9:52 pm • 30 September 2012 • 9 notes
Anonymous asked: willing to email all of your poems to an avid reader?
im not opposed
11:02 pm • 29 September 2012 • 2 notes
without internet for a bit
writing like crazy
11:39 am • 28 September 2012 • 1 note