I like you just as much if not more

A name means nothing. Your form is constantly at the tip of my tongue. It may actually BE the tip of my tongue.

and every other part of me

into the depths

There was a time I thought I could swim
I'd float to the center
and stay there awhiles
I would close my eyes and do backstrokes for miles
until the waves illuminated the moon
and the surface felt cool as stone.
I'd skip all the way home,
stoned by the mercy of the tide.

But really I've been drowning
drowning, drowning down.
I've been here so long,
inches beneath the surface,
watching as cracks form in my memory.
I've been here so long,
lips parted,
drawn to the finesse of that last breath.

I want to let my lungs fill with salt
and watch as
The colors of my skin all run together.
I want to lay my body down
and rid my bones of heavy burdens.
I want to know you
and I want you to know me,
inside and out.

I don't think I could ever love you as much as you want me to.
you're a hypocrite
you're a liar
you treat me like a child
you don't seem to care
you laugh at everything
you act like this is temporary
you never mean it.
any of it.

death mask

my neighbors scream

like gun fire.

And here I am. Alone on a Friday night. Drinking diet coke and just wishing this year would end.



                BUT THE END IS SOON TO COME. 
and not even in the frightening May 21st apocalyptic way either.

for that thing growing in your heart

If you walk away,
I will trail in your wake,
warmed by the presence of your mere memory.
And I will love you more
And I will love you more
than that first moment of kindergarten affection,
enlightened and devoid of my humanity.
for I am a purist at heart.

I will hold your hands
and kiss your knees when you weep
but never your cheek,
for grief is a horrid contagion.

And I too will weep
for that thing growing so close to your heart
for that thing trapped inside your stomach
for that thing that feels so much like love.

If I could,
I'd unhinge your upbring
and piece back together each shattered reflection.
and when the ground shakes,
I'll paint your bruises over with shades of
pink
and green
and fuchsia.
and when the time comes,
we'll paint them black with nostalgia.

and I'll kiss your knees
and sing a song to your belly
and watch as dirty rivers form across your face
and I'll  close my eyes, because the hurt's too much.

I want to pull out your grief,
like a cancer from your lungs,
and watch as it pulsates
and writhes with the fervor of a mournful heart.

I want to write your name across the skyline
and whisper it in melodies to the airwaves.

But in truth,

I fear that my love will fall to the scope of man's achievements

in truth,

I fear my love will fester like a sore, a reminder of soured camaraderie.

let the scabs ripen,
rip them open and start anew.
I want a reason to love your pain away.

hey gal pal

sittin on my left

you are a favorite of mine
I hope you have an amazing last photo class
everything you do makes me smile

poop

help me to pull thin air from thin air
and meaning from concrete syllables.



help me to unwind
and
u
n
w
i
n
d
like spools of thread
and skins from apples

love me like leather,
be my pillared feet to hold and my patron saint to have

It's sad when you miss something that was never yours

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE OF MY LIFE

I can't I can't I can't I can't
do anything productive
pretend to care about you
continue to be so fucking ambivalent to everything
I hope with summer comes the ability to once again make decisions and form coherent sentences.
    admittedly I'm not even that excited about the prospect of summer
it just feels like this portent of aging.
I hate it.

I cut my lip

I'm sorry that I cried in front of you. I didn't mean to put you in that position. it's just sometimes difficult to regulate my vulnerability.

I can feel all my wisdom teeth coming in. They're puncturing the exterior without a single care.


There
         is
            a
               HOLE
                
                               in
                                  my
                                       tongue.
I wish you were here to hold my hand.  

A thought.

A single though to plague my mind.

It devastates and rages within, confined to ideal circumstance.

It lends space for bloom,

But all that grow are wicked and deranged.

Mangled with the sounds of crying eyes.

Gouged by the meaningless monologues of some horrifying necrosis.

The thought but festered before I reached the shore.

And I felt a burning in mine mind.

Plunder fast and rid me of this curse

Or leave it to hover in disguise.

Let each to affect the other

And in conflict, resolution will form.

And if collapse I before solution’s sound,

Place bars around my bones

And weights upon my breast.

Let me to be a barnacle

And without air, the thought shall die

And we again be free.

sbiblical sallusions

contusions
solutions
assumptions
resolutions
indignant
indignant
indignant.


Yes?

God, 
I have found you
you were stuck between the cushions
between bits of lint and chewed up gum. 
You let out a scream
when I grabbed to free your form.
And I screamed too,
for I know no other command. 
I looked for god in heaps of scrap metal 
and in bowls of soup. 
I focused on the emptiness of the thing. 
He told me to breathe,
and inside I turned blue. 
Stuffed within a thoughtless form,
 how might he ponder of the alms and aves
of the wearied, skyless prophet?
How might he free himself from ease?
Throw himself to folly?
On the day of our baptism,
We will pour iodine to clean our wounds
and rid our tormenters of sleep.
We will bury our dead amid soiled salutations
And borrowed surrenders. 
I have found god amongst the dregs 
of soured milk
and in the listless elastic
of second hand gym shorts.

I have found God,

But he

has turned
away.

she looks like a ghost

but she worries like an afterthought.

I think I was an afterthought. A sort of, "how the fuck did you end up down there?"
sometimes I wish I could see the mechanics, I want to know how these things work.
And I like you, yes, but I doubt the feeling is mutual. I doubt for a second you might even take a second look at me. I honestly don't care that much, but perhaps that is simply my apathy shining through. Maybe it's better to keep the things I love out of arms reach. I feel I will appreciate them more that way.
That's true too, I do love you.

I keep getting panicky each time I think about you. Panicky and sick. Panicky is sick. Panicky to soothe the nerves and to wrestle the strains into accord.

I know you don't believe me

but I meant it.
I wish you could comprehend the full magnitude of my affection for you.
I take this shit seriously. Between you and me, the words are made up of more than syllables. I wish you knew that I don't say these things to anyone else. No one. I didn't invite him not because I was tired, but because I like you and me more than any other duo imaginable. I wish you knew how special you are. On a selfish level I would prefer you be permanently attached to my hip. I don't really know. I should probably go to sleep. I haven't been all that well recently. Sorry you've had to put up with me.
You know what? I don't lie as frequently anymore. Does mendacity become less easy as you grow to love a person? I don't know.
I don't know.
I have no idea.

but the things I do know I know all too well.

Yea, I miss you too.


OH WAIT YOU'RE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

and no, you're not boring. you're the farthest thing from it, because you're sitting right next to me (lol, get it?)
kazthleen fucks up sometimes(the latter was added after the first publication, signifying the death of reason)

granted,

I've been known to forget.


Granted, I never seem to have the correct response.


PROPAGANDA? the art of willing deception, the art of false correspondence.

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,

We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming
Four dead in Ohio

Kiki Smith

Louise Bourgeois

William Blake

arc of time

a



    b
  c
d


e
                            f



g                   h

i                                                                j
k


l

                                     m
 n

o                                                                                                                 p


    q







                                                        r


fuck this.

Egon Schiele

burn baby, burn

the contents of my head are jumbled.

cartwheeling

lumbering limbering timbering

falling

I'm going to give myself a break.

                     because obviously I'm getting a whole bunch done

why is it that whenever I think of you I hear "Elenor Rigby"?

stop asking me

stop it, really.

I HATE FEELING LIKE A CFKUING REFUGEE EACH TIME I SEE YOU

I still love you, but you make it so hard. I'm not angry that you're better than me, I'm just sad you know too


Sometimes we're both so fragile
                           I don't know who'll break the other first.
 we seem to crush each other, even when we're apart.

maybe our friendship isn't the safest outlet.

we keep teeter-tottering
swaying with the rhythm of some unbearable weight.

maybe we won't break. maybe we'll melt.
not in the fashion of great heaps of discarded, rusty snow

we'll melt like after-thoughts; the ones that were never meant to last.

GO WRITE YOUR ESSAY MIRANNDA

Henry Darger

"Ghost, ghost I know you live within me
Feel as you fly
In thunderclouds above the city
Into one that I
Loved with all that was left within me
Until we tore in two
Now wings and rings and there's so many
Waiting here for you"

When I die,

Bury me amongst the dregs of hollowed trees

And the roots of toiled labor.

Let me to lie in stale coffins with starry nights to light the pages

And illuminate sullen misfortune.

Philosophize o’er my bones

Until they spring anew with ripened integrity.

Now watch! Now watch!

The bone dance jilts and murmurs in ecstasy

Waiting for that long awaited tug,

To rip the flesh,

And twirl like the marionette of some deranged drunkard

Who peddles his wares amongst the loons and pioneers.

When I die,

Watch as I burst into flame.

I want to love a stranger

and I want to love him until it blisters

and
    burns
like Drano


synging away every last unholy irony,

   contorting this sad, forsaken _ _ _ _ _

surrender surrender

It would be so much easier for me to accept you if you were the bad guy

They say it's not rocket science

I'm sorry I'm so needy
I'm sorry I can be a cunt 
I'm sorry I shoot you down so frequently 
I'm sorry I'm not a better friend 
I'm sorry I get uncomfortable meeting new people 
I'm sorry I'd rather clean my room than spend time with you
I'm sorry I get so emotional
I'm sorry I seem so apathetic 
I'm sorry I cried 
I'm sorry I can't make a decision and stick with it
I'm sorry I can't stop
I'm sorry I love you so much 
I'm sorry I can't seem to do anything remotely right 
I'm sorry I have so many minuscule problems 
I'm sorry I'm inconsistent 
I'm sorry I'm a liar 
I'm sorry I sometimes say I love you when I don't, though I generally do
I'm sorry I'm inconsiderate
I'm sorry I don't like your music
I'm sorry you don't love me back
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry

I have no virtuous qualities. I adhere to no concrete illustration of some meaningful life, I am a subversive to myself. 
I'm sorry that I hate you but I think I hate me more.      

This week will be used productively.
This week will be used productively.
This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.

This week will be used productively.




M has my passwords and has become the master of my internet-personality.
So this is the week to talk to me online if you're looking for a good conversation.

feeble minded foes

sometimes all I can see are the minuscule, anticlimactic movements of the age.
A foreign sort of zeitgeist to spur creation and rhythm into the hearts of a creative subconscious.
a dream state to woo the tides, and prolong pure, unadulterated sleep.
sometimes they are all I need. 

sing sing sing to me

why is it that it is so much easier to be sad than it is to be happy? 
I saw a sign on a church today that read, "Jesus is not a unicorn" 
I guess that's true. 

my room has seemingly been inverted. 

I feel as though I've moved, but sadly I've gone nowhere.

Howdy Homar.