Maturity (Drinking Age)

Exciting new pain
In the soul
Like a safety-pin
Through a gentle black velvet
A dark unending gravity
Now open
A thread pulled
Undoing my clothing
Consider this array of bruises
Pick your favorite color from among them
Name it and take ownership
Getting closer
Beneath my blue-jeans
For 50$
Take everything you can fit
In two hands
And walk away
Adaptation
Of the parts you want the most
Insouciant blankness of the manuscript:
The revised edition

Listen to the same song
Again, again, again
Getting righteous
With the epic power ballad
The river beat
In an extended dance
You make eye-contact
With the high-powered lye
Of my body, and my face
Getting blinded
Please let me fade
From your imaginative vision
I want to ruin me, for me
Self-destruction
Like a sacred bath
Common law with a ritual
Of repetitive mistakes
I represent this with a ring
From my mother’s first marriage
An abstract swan, a silver band
It would be an honor

To fuck your shit up.

11:41 am

the sun broke through the clouds like a convict through a liquor store. all the liquor stores around here have a low fence to tell you not even to try it. you have to ask the lady in the sequined hat to grab it for you and she rings you out.
from here you have limited options- to drink or not to drink- the latter not really much of a choice at this point so you buy a bag of ice and peanuts- salty over sweet while youre off the wagon is best. after a couple of days when your pours dont smell of cheap beer, the sugar cravings return, but that doesnt happen all too often latly.
so you grab your booze and nuts and make your way to the kitchen and find a jar thats not too dirty and you pour it strong. half a half or better to start- the pours are sure to get heavier by the time you need to lean on the wall for support, but by then you wont remember anyway, other than the taste on your tongue when you wake up.
Humans sense differences: like how you cant smell something youve been in the same room with until you leave the room. if the taste on your tongue is the same you can never tell. this becomes terribly convenient when remembering your forgetting becomes troublesome.
so you make your way to the lady with the sequined hat and think about peanuts and feeling less

White Power

Today I’m hard up for cash
So, what?
Take a look at my calligraphic
“FUCK YOU”
Written with my own personal supply
Of Canopus 13
See above,
In the sky blue sky
Just adjacent to your slice
Of key-lime aspiration


Please RSVP
If I casually invite you
To analyze my handwriting style
And I’ll take you up
With the power of my single manifold
But there is no rush
Thanks to the advent of the dot-matrix fashion
Which I have enthusiastically adopted
As my preferred method
For getting my point across


I just want you to know
What I mean
By this message I’m sending
An impermanent and extravagant
Demonstration of what I’m talking about
When I say
We’re both selfish
+
We’re both liars
Co-dependants
Symbiotic parasites
Compulsive thieves
And all around good people


Sometimes I’m hard to understand
And
I intensely desire your appreciation
For this valiant attempt at clarity
Consider this an out-right demand
That you say “Thanks”


I can be your best friend
And spring with you, eternal
Please just never love me
Deny your feelings of attraction
In small claims court,
Along with your parking tickets
These and other things
Are nothing more than un-paid side-effects
Experienced as a result
Of getting where you need to go


I too am a believer
In the dubious hassle of the bisexual
Platonic relationship
And I fail to comprehend
Why my brothers, all around me
Can’t see through my effeminate costumes
And nearly drown me
In the magnificent Kanagawa
Of our fraternity

Regardless of whether or not I’m
Little Sister
I do believe
That my grit is self-evident
As obvious as the brilliant luster
Of my silver spurs

Like it or not
You must learn to accept my lineage as fact
Born of the Norwegian Gods
I have consummated my young adulthood
As a merciless warrior
With an intent to nuke
A handsome Valkyrie
With a heart
Like a red, red fortress
And breath like floral cigarettes
Heaving steel plated breasts
While dreaming all-consuming dreams
Of strength and domination


This is flirtation
This is a warning
Sir,
You cannot hope to contain
Or embrace
A ravenous flame.
My lust for destruction
And re-creation
Steadier
Than my impulse to breath.


For your own safety
I have placed these tender walls between us
And you begin to bruise them
Wounding my patience
With your unrelenting advance
On what is burning
Just beside you
So close
But yet so far.

YBIYBI

I saw you try to act a threatening way
I heard you whisper violently as if
Your silver teeth and tongue
Were giving birth to grievous meaning
Distracted, and waiting for something you say
To land a some fluke-ish blow
The blunt weapon of your scorn
Your aimless lecture
Directing your extra special selfish rage
Vaguely in my direction
I look at you with stony awe
As you explain to me why
I should not have intervened
In your personal life
When you stole a large sum of money
(“(Perhaps Temporarily)”)
From a friend of “ours”
Without making one thin second
Of fortifying eye-contact
With me


I have smelled the shit of you
Despite the impediment of smoking tons of cigarettes
The forceful wreak of garbage colored syllables
Tearful lamentations – dramatic suicide attempts
Announced, with manic ardency
Repeatedly
Again and again and again and again
The most ridiculous wall-paper sampler
Of mismatched perjuries
Braggery, the most ugly boasts
About your latest atrocities
The raw nature of your grocery list
Including adultery, rabid substance abuse, serious violence, petty through felony level thievery
and tax evasion
You are proud
I am lead to believe this
Because you list these accomplishments daily
Like some splendid general
Somehow I do believe
You’re heart is truly purple

I mean that in the worst of ways

Tell us about all that
All that
All that hot sex with members of sociopath set
Sweet blonde cocaine orgies
Oh, that swinging lifestyle!
Sometimes you’ll need a break!
Might I casually suggest drinking through your daytimes –
Everytime!
It really helps a man loosen up
After a tense day at the office
Which we share
The crass logic of drug-addicts
The triumphantly unending fabulous
LIES
And
EXCUSES
Each one more sound and elaborate
Than the last,
With witnesses to testify,
And alibis, and lullabies
Spitting them at me,
As if your sighs,
Your sniffling
Your dry, dry mouth
Were not as loud as a thunderstorm
As if I didn’t notice your agitated movements
Like a bull
Crushing all that china down,
To fine white powder
Lead all to the slaughter
By a ring in your nose

All this tragedy,
Your children, and a woman
You drove to madness
What large pieces of smaller lives
You’ve so carelessly destroyed
Disassembled, with a daily blow
With the sledgehammer of your
Sickness, your psychopathic tool-kit
Your pores dripping
With falsity, my distrust
Of you so strong, that I can barely force myself
To look at your face
Lest it attack me, attempt to manipulate me
With the most sincere of expressions
Attached to the hook-line and sinker
Of your poisonous influence
The countenance of your physical body
Lying in three fleshy dimensions
YOU
YOU
YOU
Not eligible to repent
Even on your death bed:
My final caution;

You break it, you bought it.

The Winter Can't Keep Anything Straight

I don’t remember getting potty trained but
I know the winter’s haven’t gotten any
better since. It is a terrible season
to risk romantic relationships, a time
spent wanting warmth without confusion: a build
up then release: to hold onto something that
doesn’t make me feel ashamed. I’ve spent winters
with women so I don’t have to sleep alone
and been with ones who have used me for the same

There is this isopod that eats the tongues of
fish. It begin with the outer lips, tears them
off then burrows its body inside the mouth,
using its teeth to make room for itself.
The isopods grows there, in the roof of the mouth;
the fish doesn’t notice, swimming all the while.

I kissed a boy once just to prove it could be
done. His chin is what I touched the most so we
made out a couple more times until I could
taste the oaks in his hometown and tell if he
was an only child (he wasn’t). Someday I’d
like to climb to the bottom of a well and
see what is so important that even shadows
try to keep its existence hidden. Maybe
it’s not tangible. Maybe it’s the quote there,

hanging, about how the recipient of
a poem is unable to appreciate
what the poet meant to write so, when I slept
with that ex it was because I did not want
to be left behind. Everybody is some-
body’s former body, the circumstance is
not what matters: it’s about discovering
the potential in the worst possible lay.