12/30/2015

A voice from another room

speaks of taking leadership

And over the bar a thousand fresh-cut

hairs stick down like resin

down a bee-ridden tree

Following on these stories, yet another

open-beaked hunger rides fluorescent

highways into a security gated palisade

Where two men fight each other to kiss.

1000 cd’s start to feel old when he is sad,

and though he cant have troubled himself with everything,

theres only one pen left with ink

and it lies where someone who wants to suck him off

sleeps. He crawls over shards

to get away from everything.

Tells every secret to his friends

in order to keep lying to himself.

Hold that terrible hangover in your arms

another hour, at least.

Nothing good to say,

Modest mouse’s rhythm lost

to scratching in the pile of recycling which grows

as large as the kitchen. Down boy.

This is a week for Christmas.

Tell your family to listen.

And when they tell you to get a therapist

Crave more dysfunction to prove you are alive.

CONSUME

You spent 34 hours working the past two days consume

to make it worth it. Oh you do not even know

what it is you poor soul. And when

you finally have free time, you sit in bewilderment

fatly and unhappily with your tired dick in your hands

Avoid the terrible dryer you walk past on the way

To work every morning

It always seems ready to speak.

Like opening your eyes to different scenes

You will make sense of these words

If you love me

Or if not, then if you love yourself enough

To believe anything you consume has meaning,

Then you will.

And when I say you

I mean the subjectless form that it is assumed

May approximate what is closest to truth telling

Here on the plateau in the desert on the plain beneath the translucent laminate space of the ocean

Some shifting octopus of necessary non-personhood

Some hide of tender nothingness

Will a Buddhist boss tell of the things Nietzsche would say when he was so frustrated from trying to sleep that he would bleed them into the steel ball of his typewriter?

Will a cannonball of a moment streak past the security of the ego

To glance with a smile at the girl at peet’s coffee who is called lisa after her twin who died when they were 6.

Someone should smile at that prettiness.

Tear down the social wall, Mr. chubby jeff,

Unrecognize the tragedy of an unclicked internet tab.

Your anxiety at watching sweet porn is never something love will find endearing and therefore spare.

Your horseshoe hairline will become a necktie before your sins are forgiven by a compassionate God.

Grasp your own fingers in your own hands.

Tell the stories of the pits, creases, scars, freckles, scabs, hairs, stains, smoothnesses

And then cry.

That is a salvation that can actually win the hearts of many,

 almost You.