figure me out.

it’s beginning to show

the way intertwining dividends between time invested, and growth. sore throat, sore back, sore humdrum. the ever growing size of my blood pump squeezing out of the thorax. 500 pound live, flesh chief alien invasion. the least entertaining showcase of something alive. imagine going to sleep, with binary code in your dream. you wake up and see, a beating heart in the sheets. take a nosedive into oblivion. hold me. i sigh.

neitzche authored the sequences that I’m telling you now. everyday is considered lost if were not dancing around. acceptance a must. i want to forget you, forget that it happened.. lao tzu said if you’re depressed you’re living in the past. if you’re living in the future, then its anxiety. i’m trying to delete this undo button on the time machine. i want to speak to the one. whether it be with our feet or our tongues. I’m used to this dance. exchanging euphemisms or moving to trance. don’t lose me. opportunities snatched.

i don’t know how to express myself without giving away, exact detail, but still obscuring the day. the sunset, and the rain, the gun smoke, the malaise, the perspiring. tired breaths, fire sex. i couldn’t talk.  because you were my only dialect

getting wound up in simile and allegorical speak, creating a world where the orbit isn’t even normal to me. it’s tough being an alien. love seeing it rain. UFO license plate reading catch me if you can. i love seeing you change, don’t want to see you the same. love being in rain.  i hate leaving a trail that’s exposed. i love sleet, hail and the snow. they’re the same thing just at different times of the year. like.. we are. or we were. i love to be in control. i hate underlying factors. i hate underlining tantrums. i hate when the sun provides a mountain of sunshine for eternity. i hate uncertainty. being doused in a punchline is concerning.  i dislike being lost. implant a GPS in my dome, let it beep when I’m gone. come sing me a song, lea salonga, let me show you the world. an interrupted reality where romanticism is whole. where erotic fiction overturns symphonic diction thats promised. everything i input is invalid or old. I can’t put my finger on it.

I’m back again. I identified the problem. Happiness can’t be figured out. That’s the point. you’re either a vastly void barcode, or a single celled, organism. that was an awful way to put what I’ve been trying to mean. and honestly

i didn’t say what i wanted to scream. i’ve got a troll that lives under the bridge where sound comes out of in the link of my throat. a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow isn’t enough to bring him to home. you live and you tell stories for these generations to see. I’m barely better than i was 5 minutes ago. but barely is better than nothing. i plead. pitch me a tent to live in. please, don’t let me down. sometimes i’ll take a shower, and put it on freezing. and sit there until i figure it out. goosebumps surround sound. sound cut off. curtain close. audience gasp. slowclap. then taking a bow.

fötter day

you can hear the…

suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine
glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night
whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint
monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank.
dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze
en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today
virgin diary. anne frank. marie curie disease
tinture of rainbow, even if the distance is blurry to me
he, who knows the way to zihuatenejo.
furlough father. demand you to die when i say so
26 pesos what’s left in your wallet
lint and mothball, merryland. experiment omelette.
laundromat arcade quarter exchange
2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain
these boulders were supposed to be gone when i got here
you shouldered me off. sunday morning penny loafer with frost
social commentary gabriel-lucifer talk
metamucil, retrograde. jupiter star
bolivian roast, oblivion, and a toast goes to mars
you hold my hand; but i don’t even know who you are
shout at me when indoors, but whisper weak when afar
im so close to eroding, skin growth, barely a scar
in my house; the big wolf. lungs pulse til’ exhaustion
i read a suicide note from the ghost in my closet
i dont know, if he knows if this apartment is haunted
by patriarchal pettiness, reminiscent negligent heart
maleficent maligned distant/forgot insidious offspring
with ammunition in their lips, that keep you off guard
feel the metacarpal love letters til your fingers fall off
once you step out the door, you hear the wooden creak in the floor
fell asleep at the creek daydreaming before
everytime before bed i hear footsteps coming from deep
and i hide in my closet, until they delete
REM hits me while I’m counting my sheep
counting rosary beads for every step wolf takes towards me
like neighborhood freeze tag, counting to 3
dysfunctional beings, huffing in suburbia breeze
i know that i know nothing is in love when i speak
into denizens, the medicine cabinet creaks
when you close it and i haven’t heard it in weeks
form bourbon, to curtains burnt at the seams
I’m so close to being the opposite of perfect, i scream
what emerges, a bird sits perched in a tree
what alerts him is
suburbia breeze

water.fawl.

I

don’t know how to be loved. what’s love in return
empty promise. time capsulette dug into earth
blind to the color of blood, its always dark when it drips
the black ink from my plume is evidence it exists
push me away
push me to grave
cedar oak coffin. 25 years been astray
tuxedo diaries. 6 foot hole doctrine, malaise 
I don’t want my heart
who wants what can’t be refunded
beauty and the beast heralded nothing
every evening at 7 I get visits from something
I can’t make out. it has a face that doesn’t resemble
I hate myself. here’s my heart on a pedestal
delicatessen. velvet crowbar. derelicts vessel 
I hate myself. delicate specimen
I hate myself, perilous. deadened 
dead end. there’s no where to go
dig at the tar road with fingernails 
dripping hemoglobin. that ship has sailed
Mars rover, seasons orbit. there’s a reason I mention space and sea
heaven and hell, good and bad, rage and peace.
I learned the other day, that water can’t exist in space, and ironic how both those fucking places is where I want to exist in.

 spaces. 

become objects of fear
the skeleton in my closet is draped in a most obvious veneer 
I escape ominous, but here is where I feel the safest 
with a fucking revolver to cheekbone. with the feeling of hollow in deep throat 
my tears are dripping
the tears are dripping
I feel
insipid
tears are dripping
tears are dripping
where’s the medic
white nursery cotton. my blights burgundy.
I prefer to be sought rather than be caught while I’m soughting
call out of work, and cough till my lungs out of these words
attracted to affliction.
in bed with paroxysm
you left me at the altar without my kiss 
wedding song to funeral home
how the fuck am I supposed to get through this 
tears are dripping
I hate myself 
victim of circumstances
what did I do to deserve this 
o father said it wasn’t his fault 
I’m just so angry that I’m unwanted
I could go to a battlefield with guns drawn and still be uncalled to come forth, now that’s unwanted
so I call myself an alien and everyone laughs
and no ones there to pick up my spaceship when it collapsed
they just point and they laugh
or turn away cause it helps
tears are dripping
he hates himself 

IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

 

its 2am

i feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life
perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds are chimed
the success is a hive. hummingbird wings in slow motion
hearing the crickets sing, so monotone yet obscurely composed
feels like they’re talking to me, as i walk on the leaves that i cross
demure. you’re so provocative. and i’m surely a ghost
crunching of autumn, is like a skeleton field for tiny trees in the fall
to possess you is a  perfect choice, and you’re as alluring, a host
sunbathed petals, drowning in jack’o’lanterns of coffee & pumpkin
squash the soggy leaves, after a beer. underneath the frothy assumptions

it’s cost me a fortune. ink-jets flew the loss to the profits
that’s just the cost out of pocket, i wore the pants, but you wore the wallet
living a martyr. nose-dive a dotted plane into soil
where waves were uncoiled, from the amber gaze, to the point where it boiled
hear the ether perform. a duet with 42 degrees, and a choir
robotic vampire, nothing to do but to sink my teeth into wires
mechanical organism, metamorphing orphan. with a heart full of gears
bleeding gasoline endorphins. pros&cons was the love you pretended to smear
propane huffed outta’ my ears, olfactory prose transposing as mutants
you wrote me off as a human, with me begging you to hear me out. it was ruthless.
wasnt enough. contraption malfunction
the sound drowned out. a whisper was like dropping a mountain above it
teardrops were waves, where even a arc wouldnt suffice
you took two of each beast that i had, so immediately, I….
just lost it.
you whittled a soldier out of clay, from the earth a clone was conceived
with a chisel that was made by the bones of deceased
you were the cotton in an aspirin, a linen in my attire i wasnt accustom
to go into combat for you with a war-drobe and the cloth that it’s cut from
ungodly. the humdrum. i couldnt acquire the taste
you were so tongue in cheek with me. i blushed into haste, when you asked if i’d want some

all i want is 5 minutes where we understand each other completely
where we aren’t drunk, or having sex. sigh. where you just complete me
developments real. the buzzing of broken street lights. are loud
suburban cemetery. not a real burial ground. that’s the imagery
you stole what i had, but now that you did, my souls deep with love
you need so badly what i have, but now i don’t even want
hows it feel to have it? i couldnt sate it but maybe i was deeply depressed
it doesnt diminish my character. but it diminishes you. exposes your WEAKNESS. you werent even a friend
you poked fun at my features, especially crucial to the dent near my nose
which were filled with rain drops from my pupils. there now tears are used as placeholders, for now they’re never exposed
so hastily brash, sorta insane, but with class,
you took the sage and lit ablaze the incense with aroma my nasal could grasp
heart rates out the bag. but a cat caught this lung! out of breath and out of reach
a tongue with an abrasive touch, i just wanna say, what i wanna say, without the effect of me to stay in this funk
i dont even try to be me, i try to be me, but for you just like me. to see me as something else besides a jaded complexion.
you were into astrology. i read the sign of a pisces for august 10th and copied it cause i knew you would make the connection
i manipulated myself, but in that i manipulated you
all it took was a simple placement of emotion, for you to be the creative ink of my next scintillating muse
pixelating. ruse. miscellanoeus. who? ive never been vindicated cause vindications rude.
ive been to places, you….. couldnt move to. in a million years
walk a mile in my boots..
where bricks from the ceiling and the steel-toe sorta disappears.
dissipating. pointless. ventilating. poignant. vision aided moistness
where physics plays a joint version of the bible’s revelations. over and over again.
my wound is opening. fix the sutures. fix my future. remove gauze
remove smog. sterilize. feral eyes. then apply the ointment.

its 2am

HOT CHOCOLATE

HOT CHOCOLATE

I walked out in the cold today. Eyes lazy. Burning cause of my allergies. Dogs chain brushing against his collar. Night time. I don’t like looking at shadows that much, they make me dizzy. Something about the abnormal shape makes my head spin. And they’re so rigid. I smelled something. That ‘time of the year’ smell. It filled my soul with a plush, perfect painting. I like chimneys. Theres something so old about them. I used to look at christmas books with the oil santas drawn with his bushy jolly beard and cheeks. Snow scenario, red and green illuminating the tundras of decembers winter. There’s something so relaxing coming in from the cold, to a nice, warm inside, with nice warm cloth, cotton bedsheets wrapping around you. There’s something so perfect about the way it all makes me feel. The air even has a ring to it. Cars veering by on the veranda make a different noise, maybe because the air is colder. The rubber hits the pavement different. IT’s just that time of the year. The cold, dark tiny gusts of air brush against my face. My sinuses are a bit more clogged so everytime I breath I hear myself. This makes me feel closer to the earth. I feel vulnerable. I better rush in. The vivid pictures my mind slowly paints are ones I wish I could share with humanity. Cause it’s these moments where I think everything is absolutely perfect. I havent seen these images described in cinema, in books, anywhere really. I want to be the first to recreate it, somehow. My words, aren’t good enough. I can spend a day findingthe perfect exact words, only to fall short. It’s a hypnotic, leafy, perfect, intoxicating scent. When I use the word intoxicating, I mean it. It’s where all my five senses combine to create this perfect, integral part of my psyche. I can be seen as a bystander walking a dog, but no one on earth would think I’m in total bliss. I’m so happy. I want to walk through the snow in thick coating, and boots. I want some to get in my sock, just to bother me a bit. Then to melt as I seal my boot up. I want that wet spot to stay until I get home next to a roasting fire and shutting the windows just that centimeter tighter so that the howling wind persists. Spinning the record player. I’d hum to it too. It’d be peaceful, but there would be lots to do. A jigsaw puzzle everybody ignores would be the center of attention. A playful clamoring of friends and family, with hands jolting in and out – “that piece doesn’t go there damnit!” and laughter would erupt. I sit back and take it all in after I say a joke that makes everybody laugh. As they’re laughing I sit back with a puzzle piece in my hand. The scent hits me again. Sending an aromatic high. For these seconds everybodys laughter is in slow motion, the chimney crackles heighten immensely, though only I can hear it. A grin roars from my face. And everything is back in motion. The slow motion persists, and the laughter that ensued isn’t warped in the time shift. I crack my toes in some thick wool socks. Nobody knows I’m cracking them, cause the crackling of the firewood is louder and, theres laughter. It feels so good. If bad news hit right now, I feel we could solve it immediately. I go out to the porch. It isn’t 2014. It feels like the 1950s. A landrover pulling up reminds me that is isnt 1950. They didn’t exist. A scarf shields my long neck. I despise my long neck. The cold always affects it. But I guess scarves were made for me. It feels so good. Someone coughs, and I tell them, here have some chocolate and feel better. I know how it is to feel sick when everybodys having a good time. I should make everyone hot chocolate. With marshmellows. Pour some wine for the more daring. We should be happy. I take a tiny sip that wets the brim of my lips. My eyes arent burning. My allergies seem to have subsided. How much more of this ecstasy could I take.

Jigsaw Heart. Try to put it together

See. It’s retribution. It’s emblematic of your initial assessment. It’s been erratic. Every visceral session seems to be coming back to bite me in the ass. Are you pisces? I heard that some pisces were, pretty rad. clueless to the superfluous mix. clueless to what i’m doing or did. am i pursuing a gig. am i pursuing cause pursuing’s a bitch. It’s useless. Every mistake I make, or made is etched in razor blades in every thing i do’ed or i did. and everything i do’ed or i did, is the biggest, single most catastrophic thing on the planet. cristians feelings are an inchworm, nothing to get upset over; it happened. I’m supposed to forget. I’m supposed to act like it didnt even occur or had action. imagine a bird. yup, cerulean skies in the background, yup, not a single cloud in sight. yes, both wings flying at a height above it’s regular flight. zoom out of focus. blurry reach. Now imagine a second bird with one wing. trees clearly visible. altitude considerably low. sigh. gliding to get within wings reach with unbearable might. who’s the second bird? edit: and this idiomatic stone didnt kill the two birds, (it almost killed me). GOD damnit! Wish a comparison to birds wasnt suitable now. IS THERE A SUTURE? Like a symptomatic expression OF aerial gaze that didnt seem so arid today?. Like what the hell was I doing til now? It’s useless. You’re ruthless, Hardly keep it together. God. If I clasp my fists any tighter my hand is capable of squeezing an atom. Split it into till we’re wiped clean from the datum. I mean it. Solely wish it were true. Wish anger bits mixed in anew. Pistol chambers seem so apocalyptic to this inaugural world. When wind freezes your skin seeps an aura as the muteness hits pause. & we swirl. Dealt two blows, to the overbearing passive aggressive. so manic depressive. You told me what you wanted before you didnt want it to hit, and wanted me to understand that you wanted it without telling me all that you did. I tried to understand where you were going, but the manipulation was titillating. Indicative of  vindication where most of the passion was closed in. I’m tired of questioning. You were my boat, and by that I mean when I sailed along on the coast. Sure everything underneath me would stay down. Laid out a blueprint, that was slowly stained out with red. I hate headaches. But everyday, every morning I rubbed my eyes and the chest pain, just going over the argument the night before. Eye-sores a common occurrence. It cost as a person. Pits of flowery petals. Not of flowers, but of ice with a patternized crystal that maximizes the the colors of this slightly plaid sonnet, with a luminous missile that twinkles when light refracts off it. Coffee and liquor, sometimes I mix them and call it elixir. A brew of congested chestnut. Nothings better than driving in a convertible top 6 speed through a closed tunnel layoff where the temperatures below freezing at 4 in the mo’rning.

You know what’s sexy? You.

You heard how I breathe when I sleep

or how I did those odd little moan noises
it was funny. I just laughed. At how we laughed.
Sad. Now I’m sad over how we laughed.
A neptuniun fury. Name it a curtain call
The brim of the acrylic cloth that buried shadows in our love
hallow in the squeaky bed bolted in with rusty lugs
lunging forth to start the sunup, under covers dried with passion
in our eyes their lies a passive, sane, perhaps a way, cause absence
makes my heart grow odder. 
struck gold. pick axe made out of my own bone. 
marrow that you’d swallow, diamond in the rough. drone
piling up. glow in the dark. we’d pair up together so close to heart 
if we were of other genus from the start the geniuses on Noah’s arc couldn’t have us thrown apart.