GET A ROPE



GOD I AM A GOD MONSTER
& WOUNDED FUZZY WUZZY
& i am a godless
& i am animal now
running around w/ my hands in the pockets
of Holy Russia
on her mission
to milk color out of globeless eyesockets
i am lost
from the neck down
i am no demi-Buddha
i am no worthless roach
chill about your iceberg identity
we all ice
is errthang
errbody in the Motherland getting tipsy-
turvy i saw you swerve
w/ my life in yr hands
i guess
yr curvy words stabbing new planets
against the blackness of my infinity
i am so angry
about death
i am a shucked gem saver
bauble locker
i am one step slower
than my younger self
i will backpedal
into a sucking sand lagoon
everlasting poem-void
how can i exist
as a fucking star
if i can't write for you
my true words
racket under the exoskelly
of my chestbrain
has never even seen the sun
or i am lacking tanned insides
i lost myself
saying storms over & again
the day is forever
i am breathing
& stopped thinking about oxygen
so many mouths to fill
blind of the color of gasses freezing in the sky
of course i know what outter space is made of
my best friend is a burning demi-god
i choke down precious water
just so i can piss it into the ground
that will cover me
i grow
cherries again & over
a life or what is ahead
a whole new life
the shedding of my one second ago
dead memory of something that was only happy
in moments
where did this come from
why are there baby Buddhas growing out of my ears
my grandma used to bathe me
when i was very little
& then she died of cancer
i remember seeing my dad cry
at her funeral
I AM A VICTIM
god how many passions do i have
to have in one lifetime
like i am so excited
to barely hear your voice down my spine
wring the salty sweat from my marrow sun
core a trillion times hotter
than the surface of my blushed coat
they say you are crazy
why are you say crazy
is this my house w/ the pillowed walls
to protect my brain when i am
SMDH
do not call me the past or the future
call me Tiger
run your fingers through my beard
i have been afraid
of drowning
for a long time now
i was born in the EIGHTIES
but i do not remember the EIGHTIES
i was in an egg
w/ so many small cracks
i could see the rest of the world
in small slivers
silver strands of dying parents head warmth
i could have gone too
so many times
i am a flame inside a greater flame
but only in size
furnace
or the wordburn from my sungod
she dances over me
i can hear the brown grass crackle
from down deep
in my midwest cave
in my job
in my terrible limitations of mortal form
look at my hands dance
from electro zaps
in a cushy sponge of forget its
IDK
what does GOMWYF stand for
what does I LOVE YOU stand for
what does NYC stand for
what does SMOKE EM IF YOU GOTTEM stand for
what does BARACK OBAMA stand for
what does GAR stand for
i am hardly making sense
i am hiding on one or the other side of a mirror
i am sorry i said i hate Mikey
i do not hate Mikey
i mean i am sorry i texted i hate Mikey
i do not hate Mikey
not even when he thinks he can beat Moss & I at FIFA forever
or i don't even remember the beerpong teams
if there were teams
i know
i can't keep going on & over about a single hidden Pearl
tucked away somewhere deep in the world wide web
where is my wife
or why do i have one
or when did the world become a TV show
i don't think anyone is watching
such a small fizzle
cheap firework
newborn infant galaxy bomb
truth bombs
where i relax my throat & wipe the cold sweat off my hands
just humming
some song i made up
about our whole lives in each moment of time
i don't think
i will ever be able to explain
unless i am doing it
just do it
JUST DO IT
& maybe everything ends
& maybe the average human is infinitely beautiful
& every second of our life is equal to a zillion dog lives
lets talk
lets wake up before anything warms
& me
& me & me
& i guess the world would be nicer still
if it was a blasted moon
if i was a busted boy floating for always
in my own wasteland
my sooncorpse growing out of your garden
shy & pink
slathered in the sweet soil of my return
no god
i will want to burn
i will want to be dust on the unused furniture
the voiceless artifacts
of lost time
& money
& everything
slowly cooking in the freezing artic waters
what about that
what about your gorgeous planet
what about the other gases in our air
that we never think are essential
my beard w/ no fingers through it
no running
straight into oblivian
like 16 year old Paul Hanson Clark
jizzing in his pants
because the world is his oyster
or some other sexy
godspray of shimmering nothings
that we can only see
when it is cold as hell
shrinking our baller brains
into unreadable names on rice
i have never put my hands in wet cement
but i am pretty sure
my hands have always been this small
wrapped around my fathers head
who is not yet dead
carrying me around like a giant child
knowing that i will never die