the scorched pheonix - part 1

snap decision- fatigued by twisted caps peel orange slice. I am officially duranged according to monitor cords wrapped tightly around throats. smoke blown tires. racing hearts, fists thrown through glasscoke tabletops. and he felt like a man behind the steel of his gun. felt like a lord the way it made the nothings run. rumble hardrocks down streetblocks. i wish a peaceful sleep to my enemies so we can settle debts in the mourning. in the coughing, in the cold, in the sneeze. snout sniff behind. who are we behind? who is in the neighborhood watch? watchticks. watch these stick burn underfoot. uproot the machines from the clawclutch into the hardened soil. as solid as workout and lean meat weight gain. does your muscle-riddled physique protect your chest from bullets? is your mind immune to the firstlast temptation? how do you hide so well in plain-view? this desert tastes like water belongs in the sand next to the mummified cat coarpses. the air tastes like Horus-droppings. Eggs fry on sidenotes, for the marginalized. Atonement forthcoming. Disintery in the flood. Purpose in the burial chambers if you can read it out, feel it through. Evidence of a beginning, a starting point, a fireflash. Sobriety in the moment of realization, in communicated pain, like we can all feel. Empathy versus apathy versus all the journeymen, all the soldiers, all the kings, and of course, your dirty secrets that you buried alongside priests. Animosity in the labor camps, directed at the sun for the burn. Fuck your Akhenaten hell. Welcome home pretty bird, time to roost, and gather, and feed your young.

Infected Cupid Spears

infect, infiltrate, infuriate. Is there anyone special in your life, in your loveline? Is there any chance that I could change to suite your exquisite tastes? Is there any way that we could redeem our gift certificate to starshoot heaven doordream? Is this the special shirk that magnifies all of our problems and issues until they explode? Can you begin to communicate with me? Arrows shot awry. Clothesline jones-ing again, tangled, dampened. Thump drum dump out bolder bangs until we can't figure out what we're supposed to write. Supposed to hold the door, hold breath, hands, on to. Splash puddle, now the rain water is dirty, filthy. Your wedding dress has been raped by the mud. It rain on graduation. Cleanse pours, skin, suck, smile, smell. Mites munch. Ticks dig, dredge into our bloodflow. Remember when we felt alive without a lie. Rats in the vents, cooked. Homeless dogs sniff the dumpster for foodscraps. Liars and cheats resigned. Blood libel in full effect. Famine eating crops. Vultures hover. Angels swoop with sachel full of rusted, tainted arrows. Almost hopeless. Dusted in a drought. But then again, Love...infected with or without.

tapping my fingers at your stopwatch

voided smiles, no validation in a candlelight. as rotten as hot sweaty apathy in the simmer of summer. twist and turns carved up the wood and the road went unnoticed. muttering in the silence that somehow I became my favorite capricorn, stargaze. as plastic as the last time you checked. ribcage celebration- erect a fortress around my heart. ford the Rubicon. face the timelingers and frantic realizations that it will probably happen soon. and for now, I am just waiting...

cry more, solve less

free penniless propaganda. walk off the cliff and catch a limb. lost survivor with no-one left to listen to those stories. now alone has become a face in the crowd, and I'm more of a coward cowering that towering over disease. unease. you're welcome used to be easy. it used to just slide into place without much push-pull, no effort. exact location gps from spaceshot burned in the cylander of a bic pen. nip bottle shot fastened tight. ingite free nightly. the first time they tried to make everything right, the screen went out of focus for less than a second, long enough for our eyes to notice. brood in a boiled dinner pot. steam turns to sweat. our suicide stomachs teem with emotion. i lost my self esteem during my closet hideaways when the schoolbell rang. all the kiddies bobbled the lunchpails and we didnt have a nail to munch on. a home to pick apart. a bone from which to scrape meat. to gnaw on, pass the time. clocks dont remind me of my grandparents livingroom anymore. the ticktock blurred out and buried by the rumbling train tracks. if you can't measure, how do you know exactly how much of anything, at any given time. sleep in an excuse on your part, on your parrotsquawk pick apart. mumbling that which was spoken. reading into all these weekend flicks, all these bare-shoulder lovelust possibilities. please stop, pause for a moment, and listen to yourself bitch. it annoys me and the walls so much the paint behind the posters is peeling. peel eardrums. we all have problems and promises of playwrights that claimed they could solve them. solvent. solve less.

Sinkwater

facescrath oxycoton syndrome, sinkwater for breakfast. the sounds of backfire car motor spit makes me jump and dunk for cover. cloudcover. the sky is so fucking dead, I am almost feeling good about tonite. I am almost as big as I appear under your microscope. bedbugs ate all my dreams last time I slept in your bed and I go a good-night snooze for the first time in years. I'll do another trick on my bicycle and wrote circles around your journals. I'll compose the longest and most complicated piece of music you have ever heard. It'll probably remind you of the first time you got fucked. I'll make you a salad that you wouldn't be able to eat in a week- until it's wilted. no wash, no santitary. no sanitarium for the sickness. no fear of flys on the fruitbowls, the walls, trapped- stuck on the fly paper. No more homework to take back in your knapsac. Sunday is reserved, sorry I'll see you next week, or the next, or the next. Bring your stories as I have more than a few to share myself. Go home and remember everything you tried to memorize before we met.