The accumulation of detritus as an energy source

I used to hate you
but I found something worse
I don’t care anymore
It probably looks like I’m just sitting here with my pants down
picking my nose

There are different levels of reality
I feel like we’ve been here for hundreds of years
We are in the moment where everything happens
I like these moments in between time
Don’t hate me
I love myself too much but how can I be perfect like a train
Wow that makes no sense it’s terrible
Flesh under my fingers like the movement of the planets

Star spangled banner
played like scrambled eggs
between webs in the basement
mad slides played projected
mad is where the mind is
the bank is where the money is
blue, let’s switch to blue
thank you for the pain in my head
the constant reminder of my limitations, mortality
the great loss
seeing art like writing on the wall
nothing is real everything
is perception

We keep spiraling into life
encircling our friends
Roomba patterns on the carpet
I’ve gone too far
can’t turn back the clock
even as we visit doctors in Bellevue, Beth Israel
we see movies like Avalon
What the fuck am I talking about?
I hate poetry like this!
Passed out on the lattes!
Can’t rouse the dear friend!
Four hours with the doctor later
that acted like an entrepreneur
a small busy god
important, powerful, disconnected
I laugh because we are having fun
but we are so isolated our circles don’t overlap enough
my life is fractured
I’d cry but it’s cliched
I’ll touch myself and be sinister all the way
out of the building
I don’t even know who you are

I’m walking under the scaffolding on 2nd avenue
Lingering along the construction of the subway
I’m going to be here even though it’s ugly
because this block is mine
this avenue is where I live
Somebody in the liquor store turned around on the way out
and said “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

O Beauty
I need something juicy to sink my teeth into
Like papaya or a cunt

Detoxing in sunny southern California
The sun is smiling
the people are smiling
and I want to shit on everything
(except my pants for a change)
Stop laughing at me

My body and your bed
Long hours, limbs, and sheets entwined
I greatly crave that, and you, and time
A throne to rest an empty head
A home to empty a heavy heart
Would it were my home, your bed
O languid life of love left in the northeast
for thirty days I’ll grind down time with my teeth
and feel dull under the southern sun

Everything is so imperfect. Can you fix that woman child? It’s tough when the sun goes away and the wine beer whispers in my brain over hours long and fruitless and dull but not agonizing somehow like those horrors during the day when I’m doing things I don’t want to do and begging the passage of time my life to ebb away like every working man or woman waiting for a man. Who are you mother sister, lover friend? I am so sensitive and afraid that I’ve wrapped myself in robes of steel so that I’m scared when I look into the mirror. I don’t know what I want to see when I see you too. Perhaps I should just let it be and see true as true and hold something soft and dear while I can.

I’m hard
stuck like semen in ball sacks
unreleased for months or even years
congealed and yellowing gross vermicelli
erupting like strings, causing pain
in the victim of frozen feelings

I’m soft
in the head, want to be sweet
like a peach
or have a peach to eat or slide my stick into
each to each, cheek to cheek
you bad boy don’t cheat or sneak up the skirt
that’s not within reach any longer

I’m dead
or at least in cryogenic sleep
take me, shake me, wake me
or at least rape me which they say
was a fate far worse than death in the middle ages
but better than the living death of middle age
at this stage so hard to take

Related posts:

1. Parcheesi during the apocalypse
2. I don’t have any friends left