when I just had that thought
he who dies with the most toys wins, eh?
asemic and anumeric
process and reality
being and time
time and the other
for some young mind to be aroused by
in sixty years
Untitledhello my name is Yellow Pisscunt
how is your prodigious unicorn today
I betrayed myself to the single
I hate him because he gets to be who he is and nothing more
how can I be more
I am not enough people for me
how can I become two
I think seven would be enough
for all of me to be me
but now I wr8ite shit
and live on divine blood
tainting my lips
and it stops when I don't want it to
and I want to never stop
but my being itself
as I know it
is the kind that stops
which terrifies me
all the time
burning through goo
so many leaking tubes
goo calls new tubes home
and the call me
while I should be gone
away from mundane stress
but they find me
and I can't get away
I can't get out
always stuck being less me than I need to be
UntitledWhat was it for?
The long nights in the basement,
the only-sleep-when-I-pass-out-from-exhaustion lifestyle,
the passionate suffering,
what was it all for?
The endless war,
damn this infernal transformation.
Does it fall on me to document the struggles of a generation,
a generation that watches every triumph become trivial,
a generation that waits for itself to become obsolete,
the generation forced to condemn temporality,
the generation to witness the end of temporality as it dies the last deaths?
God floats in a pool of His own blood.
The masters wipe their asses with angel feathers.
The curious are left for dead.
Street BenchUnmoving and silent
My skin is painted cold
Curves of darkest iron
Shield my wooden soul
Exposed to the rain
And its slow corrosion
In addictive solitude
I’m seduced by madness
I whisper to myself
Of years passing by
I sing to me quietly
Secrets of the past
Always but the watcher
Lifeless yet alive
Tortured by eternity
I witnessed it all
The machines of the day
The lovers of the night
The wandering poets
The killers sad as I
Invisible to the world
Indifferent to its flow
I watch it day by day
Die and be reborn
mute swanshe can't hack the drugs, now she's
sleeping under your overpass
on a piss-soaked mattress and i
am the last mute swan left standing
in tanglewood pandemonium
get me out of this grey room
its weird science of smells
sharing zero-space with one-time
firebrands and their fledgling/plans to rule the world
get me out i can feel
myself slowly becoming one of god's monsters
can see myself stained
in scraps of miracle and blood
(she can't hack the drugs)
and now all that remains are nosto-
errors; in our corpus callosums
and all i have learned has now
led me to prosper... casually
waving my entrails as an offer
vespertidei was born in the vespers
a smoldering dog day at 3 a.m.
just another haploid (conjured)
while the midnight sun blisters ...
and the simplest things still trapped in the helix;
was born in the vespers
Revitalize DeathRevitalize our rights
We want the right back
To give death
Not only that but we want the right back
For their death to be elaborate
And not “just” ‘elaborate’
We want a firing squad to do away with the miserable old rat
Motherfuckers need to get organized
So we can change the ways their organs die
Revitalize our rights
Give the right back
For us to give a lavish and quick demise
Death by guns to the penalized
Need it on sale revitalized
Gonna spell it with lead on the condemned’s face
Gonna spend on our criminal minds one way or the other
Or the other
A hailstorm of bullets for the bad guy who isn’t me
The gun is my first opinion, the second one is me,
We could camplaign for more serious reforms
Like make rape illegal in the fairytale sense-us of our dubious norms
But this is serious wholesale justice infrastructure restructuring we’re talking about
Give back the rights to kill with style
We couldn’t strangle them
We need guns to do t
magicK spell checKerthe lit scientist
sed to the wee thot thing
don't worry he'll grammer yea up later
The Queer are Coming!This is not a drill!
I repeat, this is not a drill!
The queer are coming, the queer are coming!
Coming? Bitch, we've been here the whole time!
So no, this is not a drill
This is not a phase,
This is not an experiment.
This is me, this is how I was born
You liked me before, so tell me, what's changed.
It's funny how we're taught from a young age,
Too follow our heart's desires.
Well then, in that case,
I must be a freaking good student
Because instead of just loving half our population,
I love them, all!
So please, do not tell me who I am and am not,
Don't tell me I can't like them both.
Your advice is niether wanted or appreciated.
Boys, girls, black, white,
Who the fuck cares?
Did I just make you uncomfortable?
Being Bi isn't a skill,
It's a freaking genetic inccident.
There is no cure for what I've got,
Because sweetheart believe it or not,
I'm not sick.
I'm not dirty,
I just have a wider palate.
I knock the institution of marriage on its ass,
Because I don