i broke one oncethe road to hell is paved bright bluei broke one once7 years ago in Scraps More Like This
what you can see in the aches and pills
of ecstasy, the astringence of piss.
hell, they say, is an open palm.
well, they, they could be me.
but you'll never know
stacks and stacks waiting to fall over
drunk and vomiting splinters
your eyes were not meant to readjust
to natural light
birds mock me. it was all because
i convinced myself their name
they twirl their asses on the uppermost
corners of crates and boxes
and flicker sunlight between
their tail feathers
obscure the dawn, and i breathe
on my fingers as if my mouth were
an oven, and my words fire
i rip carbon copies out of a book
white blue yellow
and remark the seasonal changes in the landscape:
two fucked up sheds with windows busted out like
pathetic breakings into dance,
still the same,
and a tree and field i've remarked
too many times to myself
i think now i should say i will never
just to damn myself
someone lost two feet
the possibility of ghostsin context we were the places we've never beenthe possibility of ghosts5 years ago in Scraps More Like This
birds and bombay and aftermath in the circuitry
all the ways we've invented and reinvented
the simple act of talking to each other
like friday night fiction. like drinking and drawing nicuragua
the context says she only loved me at dawn until
the photos all blurred like evidence of god and
we give names to streets that don't exist
this explains ghost sightings. this explains everything
how do you say I love you in portuguese?
does it taste like cocaine and fatalism?
in absolute terms the universe explands, i
believe this planet wasn't meant for lovers and
we were there to watch the meteors fall like countries
like the accidents we dream about every night but
this isn't a poem about metaphysics or fate or god
it's thoughts on evolution and nicotine stains
on the edge of a building or in the eyes of a man because
all of it looks and smells and tastes like suicide. suddenly
every molecule is drifting further apart. there isn't enough
Schedule 1To conclude:Schedule 14 years ago in Scraps More Like This
People you've loved will die
And all of them will do it alone
Remission involves rebuilding an atmosphere
after the emergency ends and there are no planets
to aim our satellites to and pour our loneliness on
And everything is polluted with the curiosity of laughter
and the audacity of beautiful music in empty space
And your heart begins to break as you think
maybe we don't deserve this anymore
Again: evolution doesn't speak for genesis
is not a design but condition
is most perfectly examined in her body
and all the mistakes time has failed to correct
And about those mistakes
well, if there's comfort in theory
every argument we'd ever had
was about how much time there is
to make love in neon, to dance ourselves
to find solace in this speculation
be ill with grief and diseased by hope
and to see: she's not so badly mistranslated
by streetlight and borrowed gospel and
for a little while at least
there is no conclusion to this stu
Cigarette AnalogiesCigarette Analogies9 years ago in Scraps More Like This
It is four o seven in the morning and I'm sitting in the bathroom, between the twin sinks, with my bare feet up against the rough-hewn tile wall across the way. I've been watching dark rings form under my eyes for the last hour and a half. The mirror has been cold, unrelenting in its dutiful stare back at me. I refuse to go to bed. I'm trying to get your sweet cigarette analogies out of my head.
You kissed me outside the night before, the cold so biting that it made my nose sting as it touched yours. The fat flakes of a surprise snowfall drifted down around us, glowing in an unnatural shade of gold against the luminescent streetlights, so strategically placed to break up the secret embrace of an obsidian darkness trying its hardest to scare those who must walk in it alone. They came to rest ever so briefly on your thick, delicate eyelashes but melted instantly as you blinked to break the contact I was so deliberately making with your sad, sad eyes. The only eyes I had ever found to be
Dead MemoriesSometimes I think it's goneDead Memories9 years ago in Scraps More Like This
That finally it's melted away
But on closer inspection
It's beating stronger every day
And still I try to deny it
It's getting harder and harder to do
And though I compress, extinguish these feelings
My heart still beats steadily for you
What once was fickle admiration
Has grown to seemingly endless heights
And the bittersweet arguments we had every day
Are now just memories of those fights
And now she's back
In the corner of your eye
I know you're watching her
Sneaking glances on the sly
Just tell me what it is that makes her so desirable
Tell me what and I promise I'll change
In the blink of an eye
What I remember can change so suddenly
That I can't even remember why...
I started this in the first place
SwampSky above full and grey. The rain spitting onto my smiling face, watching my hand caress the edge of the car door above me. Cum spit on the ground, the taste in my mouth. Every breath filled with ecstasy, surging through our veins, down my stomach.Swamp9 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Mindlessly caress the shaved head, music; a soundtrack to a moment after love. After lust.
Not a single word dropping from our mouths as the fog rolls by slowly slowly.
Even the mist has a smell.
Backseat wonders and I think I could fall in love. Bitter and sarcastic, cynical and narcissistic, knowing the lie we've created. Tall weeds on the edge of the small spot, headlights flash from the far off road. Hiding the deed we've committed.
Excuses for everything, in the end it's all about yourself. Help others, care for others, at the end of the day, go home jack off to other people's girlfriends, smoke cigarettes, and other things, drink whiskey and puke to your porcelain saviour. We know how it is.
Telling the truth never felt so sad.