0fu

same shait as before
worn adidas squeak up the jungle floor
smokin out the window
what can say
at least this time i got to pack my old suitcase
a man with no muse
and you wanna leave
i stayed around and found that it was all cuz of me.
...
livin with a chica is a serious task
didn't know quite what she wanted,
didn't have time to ask

(↑'s to Ice T)

this place still feels good,
lets jack each other off, just enough to know
this is over...
feels it; prolly is.
how many times: this argument- any detail are needless.
how much further must i fuck myself?

... 'feel free to take the bacon with you.'
'hey there, come on in.'
cold soldier? (really?)...
(everyone looking @ you knows yer gonna die from what happens next)
'awww... did you miss breakfast?'
( you're actually gonna eat strange bacon...)
'there was some guy here earlier... asking for you-'
  (
     the bed you slept in has a flavor:...
  )
'seemed important: nice clothes & stuff...'
  (
    ...
   ...
     i guess
     (
          where you come from
    )
    the smell of decay is ok to sleep on...-
  )
'we told him you were sleeping.'
  (
    ... there exists the possibility you'll develop a li'l itch...
  )
'he didn't seem happy.'
  (
     ...
  )
'if you hurry you can catch him.'
  (
    yer last spasm, remember my maw....
  )
...
( walking will become an issue..)
did i mention yer affect was unwelcome?
next time....
ask nicely.

paper or plastic?
i'll be left to fix whatever else is here after you decide to jet.
the mothership is purty and all...
then again, what do you think the moon is?
my footsteps here land 50" beneath my feet,
and when the city sleeps & i breath deep.
the smell of home strengthens me.
so don't let the door hit you...


agents

they come to take the facts that i can still remember.
dead time:
when you were alive, but have no recollection,
i'm not the fan-
& such an affect can come from many vectors.
i laugh, & know the taste of it.
bludgeon me about the head & soul,

(ba da da dada)
beautiful,
(ba da da d'daa)
soup:
(ba da da'da)
beautiful
(ba dada dada'da)
stew
(ba da da, da dada)
tasty bits
(ba da da dada)
that we..
(ba da da dadaaa)
accrue
(ba da da)
40 miles from...
(da da)
the 'ewww'.
(beautiful...)
watercress, rosemary, &
(...soup)
live well, run fast,
& seem a bit better off than those who choose to stay inside the artifice.
(beautiful...)

pitter patter outside.
covered balcony.
as almost everyone sleeps i creep in @ 23 bpm.

there exists an incandescent tube,
a light above our kitchen
impervious to switches.
a bulb to be rotated ( just so ) , back to life.
each time
( i rock my monk-stance, fingertips on the tube, willing the particles therein into incandescence )
each time
the light is different
& a bit more reminiscent
of this place where only you & i exist...
who could have guessed such could get so crowded?

3 am, the train slows down
an old track, it reverberates and tells a story
that comes back to me over the water.
the trees are alive and dreaming of rain.

"the chives are alive, its like having children"
this from a lass that i've never figured out,
as she tests me from strange vectors
probing for weakness-
a gentle nurse running through the oddest of battlefields.
i find myself the better from her care
& ready for the frey.
i hope 1 day 2 unleash her upon an adversary:
kill with kindness, etc.

beautiful sands beneath footsteps.
devil's details noticed- a moment of solace reclaimed.
the doom-saying vocation has blown up...
so here's my joke:
jesus & satan walk into a bar...

what prophet or child of diety hasn't written something
of pitying all creatures of the world
because of a fundamental imperfection?

balcony.
168 ish beat measure
of raindrops hitting perfectly
i thought my neighbor was spinning lounge-core.
until i turned to go inside
& the song fell out of sync
to become perfect.

kitten paws stroked my fingers,
in random guy's trailor
(the kitten was his girlfriend's).
i called the dad of some girl whose jp's i wanted in
to brag about how cool my car looked,
and came back into the living room to view
the master of household slinging said kitten into the wall
with force.
the kitten rebounded all spry,
but it was sorta war between he & i from then on.
poor lad.
never run in the jungle with blood on your hands
& expect to get less messy.
perhaps green-peace was a bad idea, hmmm?
the lass did love her kitten
& she could always convince you to do something stupid.

when rest fed the restful
i was towing the barge
of a lass that ate figs and was laughing at large
glowing blisters from ropes that had turned into scars
that had somehow turned artful and was making her want
to finally follow our fires back home,
where we fed on her flesh
and buried her bones
in the gardens where children were picking up stones
(and ardently following minefields back home).

give whatever's loft to them.

she affects me,
the remnants of circumstance,
versus whatever is to become of this.
the pain in her voice...
she tries to make the best of it.
the lass has been broken, but beautifully so.
a strange voodoo soul for her and her alone.
an inside universe that will become less
if not expressed unto the void.

creatures unto the void
the dreams of a possible scenario.
regolyth
her myth carved on the ediface
before the fall
when my where-with-all faltered.
desperate pleas for rescue-
standard tactics draw the weakest to the frey
& take with languid aching gestures
their place upon the playing field.
ever was, i run from them
find my flavor, hone in
territories on a grid
separation by a drowning death
perhaps a game of go for whatevers left of him.
movements of the ocean
the undertow
i will not go
into a feast of friends that fed upon the end of me.
creatures of retrospect
the habitual definition of boundary
breath that still is sweet
perchance does anyone know where this leads?

bruised lips, wet with want
stick it in, steal my soul if you're so able
hindsight versus visions of perfection
countermeasures.
an old story, faded stone walls
i remember your name
and what to do when warm eyes turn ghastly

i would prefer vacuum,
confortable and empty
no seething, teeming, tumultous clusterfuck of flesh
that i have, at best, a tenuous control over.
i am completely ruled by limbic urges,

when i was 12 i was babtised in a rickety babtist church.
i found the white smock, the circumstancial ritual quite funny.
it was my turn to get in the pool, and i started to snicker
the preacher held my head under for way to long and i started thrashing about,
came out screaming
my mom says i called him a cock sucker
i've never been to church since.

things fit..
a clock spun & set in sync
before this floor had met my feet.
what impliment could claim such for affect?
i watch it tick...
in place
all nimble and quiet like

whispers in the corner
girls with hands over grins
i would sit & bask
knowing it was you
but would prefer to skirt your influence.
like a school of fish in open sea
i flee from thee
insane geezer freak.

push my buttons
set me aspin
cast me adrift
reel me back in.
elastic tension
test my tolerance.
as i am reconstructed
& everything
every breath, every instant
is a patient & persistant addiction.
sub me out, tie me up
tell me to clean your kitchen

peas in a pod
who's on camera now
show me your papers
the requisite structures
what are you doing to me?
a mad-cap game, & i'm not supposed to participate
take this ache from me
put it on your mantle
it would be best for all concerned to see
how easily i was lead astray
charge admittion,
half off of me
shorn and bared, a stone altar
my every possibility
spilled into your bruised and wanting lips.
watch me sputter and spin
realing with too much information

she told me that the sunset of a summer sky
looks like what i can sometimes try
to paint when all good boys should be in bed
(can you blame me for not sleeping yet?)