Tuesday, October 17, 2017

10/17/17



a head like a smashed in jack-o-lantern
base filled with melted wax
cranial walls blackened.
the facade collapsing
in on itself like the core
of a dying star—
rot and old age
showing.
mouth
kicked in.
eyes
insect eaten.
scalp missing.
what was once
an attractive
orange face
eminating
a warm inviting
glow
now:
shriveled,
deformed,
unwanted.
just ugly.
organic,
not plastic,
and always
afraid
of mornings.



Monday, October 9, 2017

a power outage in dallas

it's okay.

in the dark
i still check my phone
for a missed call
or a new message.
check my computer for
a new email
as you talk to new friends
in person;
i talk to my silhouette
on my bedroom wall.

your friends are
a lot cooler than me.

it's okay.

some nights you
make out
with probably some cuties
while i sensually french kiss
the palm of my hand
with my eyes closed
and in the morning,
each of us might
regret this.

it's okay.
i'm okay.
i think.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

i got a 14 year old pregnant

her mom watched a lot of daytime tv,
which is why she decided to forgo 911
and straight to the talk show studio.
she cries in her chair, while her mother
answers the authoritative host's very
personal questions about our relationships
origins, who i am, and what i do and dont with
my spare time in a not so nice tone,
passionate but uninformed.
and the audience is like, "wow!"
and im backstage getting my make-up
touched up staring at the monitors,
listening to this and seeing the title,
i got a 14 year old pregnant 
saying, "what the...huh?"
while being prodded toward the
main stage entrance
by hands and heads wrapped
in headsets
being reassured that
ill be okay as i wonder
if i will be okay.
if i have any downers left
in the hotel room.
coming out to a chorus
of boos thinking,
"you have to be kidding me guys,
oh man."
i dont really remember what happened
before the reveal, the results,
the climax and resulting falling action,
just that no matter what i said
no matter how true or untrue it was
i was just met by razor sharp words and
insults hidden in reactionary questions.
i was all entertainment and we all had
our part to play, we all had to do that
dance like good little sluts
except we just did it because of exposure
or in my case circumstance.
so i just sat there after a couple of minutes
scratching the fake wood on the armrest
of the chair with a worn down fingernail
not really paying attention to what i was saying
just saying things when im supposed to
for the sake of saying something.
because that was what they wanted.
but i knew i really didnt
have to do anything
just sit and wait
because
god sent me here to rock
them and you,
and in a couple minutes ill make
it hot, and in a few minutes even hotter.
it's up to them to
figure out whether or not im
good or bad
because ill never know.
when the results are read,
she is not pregnant,
but i am.
two years ago we met through an internet forum.
he wanted to be a teenage girl,
and i wanted to be an older teenage boy.
so we switched places,
which wasn't hard because
with a little make-up
and hair dye he passed
as a 12 year old she.
he passed as me or who i used to be.
my mom never paid enough attention
to notice.
the producers with shocked
faces asked for close ups
of all faces involved
and audience reactions,
speaking into their microphones,
"where else will the story go?"
but in my mind the story had already reached its
conclusion: the topic was ass to begin with.

Friday, September 29, 2017

i'm sorry for asking but please come take me home



i channel my inner television monologue
staring into the bathroom mirror in the dark
at 2 am on a practice run for spending
the rest of the night with my eyes open.
eating a bowl of pinecones patiently
waiting for the forests of christmas trees
to grow and bloom inside
until they are consumed
by an electrical fire.
just a bottom feeder
on the lower end
of the food chain
scraping by.
just creeped out
because i can't
feel my hair.
i don't think
i'll ever
figure out
what happened
to this place.
i don't think
i'll ever
get over
it.
waking up
not being able
to fall back asleep
is just wasted potential:
everybody needs friends,
but i've never been able
to stand up straight.
i think i like you a lot
only cause i'm so good
at hurting myself.
so lock all the locks,
take all the keys,
and keep yourself clean,
cause i'm alone again
and i don't like the things
i see.


Thursday, September 28, 2017

severed skulls swapping vomit



when i woke up this morning i felt cheated that the kitten i was dreaming about didn't follow me.
wasn't there lying next to me in bed.
i couldn't fall back asleep.
just stayed up watching videos online all day about people playing soccer video games, fast food reviews, wrestling, and pranks without any actual interest in the subjects.
just passing time.
wasting the day next to a phone that stopped ringing years ago.
whatever.
light even turns to dark with the blinds down:
bluish grey to black,
the colors and their duration are the only difference.
i read emails from a correspondence a couple years ago with a girl from north carolina, and another with a girl from ohio.
was embarrassed.
not because of the content, or how those relationships played out.
was embarrassed because i shouldn't have said anything.
shouldn't have gotten involved.
should've stayed silent.
other people are scary,
and the person i'm scared of the most
is myself.

Thursday, August 31, 2017

aborted my great grandmother with a gasoline douche and random office supplies just so i would never exist.







😻


my goal in life
is to be put into a coma
for the rest of my life span
so i could start over
because i
can escape
everyday
without
having nervous
breakdowns.

and in my dreams
i go over to a illiterate obese
girl's house
who offers me
twinkies and cherry cola
and wants to
fuck.
richard simmons
is on the tv
talking about
the secret to 
"perfect buns"
as she pulls
her panties
down
and picks up
a chainsaw.
her pussy smells bad
which makes me vomit
on her collection of 
childhood dolls
and teddy bears.
so she saws off 
my left hand
and
claims my right eye
from its socket
as recompense,
making us even,
before i walk out the door.

i make it to the train tracks
and get drunk
under the highway
alone in the dark.
i haven't eaten in
three days but 
nothing 
really
matters
anymore.
i smash a couple empty
bottles against the concrete
wall
guilty for fucking
up the earth
a little worst
than it already was.
i lay across the tracks
with my legs
spread open
like some
unconscious
16 year old girl
about to get stripped naked
and
raped
in an unknown bedroom
at a party
by some dumb fuck jock
who's a senior
and is going to get away
with it
because he's the star running back
on the football team.
as the twelve approaches
with two large stones 
on my chest
and a lit cigarette
smoldering 
between my lips.
i wait,
waiting for
the warm sensation
of being cleaved in two
my body penetrated
by heavy steel.
but the wheels of the train
miss
and squeal past
in a incomprehensible
blur
on the other set of tracks next to me.

always the fuck up.

i get up
with the understanding
of my hatred towards people,
even the people in my head,
and my longing to be
with at least one 
of them.



😻


Friday, August 25, 2017

to richard vargas

sometimes
i
feel
life is
like
an elevator
you're
stuck
in
while
d r u n k
and in
the possession
of
a backpack
full of weed.

and instead
of
hitting the help button
you have to
kick the
SHIT
out of the door
and have
someone you know
pry the doors open with
a hockey stick
so you can escape
then
a couple days later
someone who lives on your floor
rats on you
and you and someone you know
gets stuck with the
bill.