take me somewhere nice

in the morning,
i wrap my cold body
in sheets of rain
and onyx thunder clouds
that are outside my window
passing by
like people walking down the street.
the puddles and branches
shiver in the wind,
as the grey ice water
flows through
the rivers in my body,
while i think about
what it means to die
in the dimming yellow
glow of the streetlights.
watching the firewood,
pile up against a stone
wall without
a flame, cannot shift
my shape from this permanent
rigor mortis.
awake and indifferent,
smelling like an
unwashed dog,
i wait for the light
to die
so i can bury today
in the cobalt dusk
under ashen fog.
fingernails digging
through a chest covered
in moss
looking for a heart
that's still thumping,
never at peace.
i've been around
other people,
had friends,
lovers, and
even sex, but
i know no one.
and i hold nothing.
beating back
blue rogue waves
that capsize ships
with supple palms
the size of cliffs,
i can feel the erosion
from a succession of days
breaking boulders
into tiny specks
before being swept
away by the exhaust
after a deep breath.
the warning signs
are in the smoke signals
drifting through the sky.
dripping wet,
sliding in between
photographs
and
dreams,
i lie next
to a low comforting
sound that has culled
me to sleep
for so long,
because it's familiar.
because it's mine.
because it's something you'll
never hear or understand,
which is what keeps my body
warm in the darkness
when my eyes
see nothing.

#adulting vol. 1

locked myself in a public bathroom stall for the last 20 min, and had a nervous breakdown. #adulting

had to dig through swollen bags of trash in a green dumpster behind a grocery store for dinner tonight. #adulting

stepped on an ant. #adulting

drunk dialed my ex while making mac and cheese, and told her i cant forget about the past, but if she wants to hook up sometime that's cool. #adulting

Couldn't figure out a children's puzzle with colorful plastic shapes that are supposed to slide through matching holes, so i picked it up and smashed it to pieces against a wall, that way no one can play, and i win. # adulting

was able to cut my tight pinky off with a pair of scissors to save my daughter who was being held hostage by a serial killer, but couldn't save my son from falling in love with another man. #adulting

learned how to give up my dreams and aspirations for a flat screen television and a cushy recliner. #adulting

havent had my period in six weeks, and i dont know who the father is. # adulting

got a job as a life coach even though i still havent figured out the meaning of it all. #adulting

bought a fleshlight for "educational" purposes. #adulting.

explained to my father that i was never molested by a priest when i was a child, but didn't mention how i remember him pegging me with baseballs when i was six. #adulting

ate a lunchables pizza for lunch, then look at the calories. went to the bathroom, and stuck my index finger down my throat before washing my hands. #adulting

put pebbles in a bottle, and sold it for $20 on etsy. #adulting

told my grandson that if you point only your middle finger towards the sky and extend your arm out towards a person, it means: peace be with you. #adulting

hung an ethernet cord from the rafters and tied it around my neck before levitating. #adulting

still breastfeeding after 30 years. #adulting

i worked out as i took selfies of myself working out, and tweeted about it. #multitasking #adulting

29, and still afraid to go into the basement of my house at night. #adulting

high school reunion coming, and i don't care what anyone thinks. but what should i wear?#adulting

just got trapped in a new group text, while contemplating my existence in the universe. #adulting

talking about my past so i dont have to think about the future. #adulting

started making restaurant reviews on youtube only about fast food items. #adulting

sold my soul for a paycheck at an advertising agency. #adulting

spent my afternoon on the couch watching a college football game instead of changing my newborn's diaper. #adulting

my french poodle's manicure is more important than a donation for syrian refugees. #adulting

told my mom not to vote for trump instead of saying i love you. #adulting

i secretly like nirvana, but tell people they suck cause they are too mainstream. #adulting

working at a drug rehab center as a counselor to support my crippling heroin addiction. shooting up in the bathroom on my lunch break. #adulting

pierced my septum so people can think im cool. #adulting

i strip on a webcam for middle age men because its easy money. #adulting

i shop at victoria secret because where else would you get bras and panties? not wal-mart! #adulting

walk in on my dad watching softcore porn on hbo before he scrambled for the remote and changed the channel. #adulting

being an escort is different than being a prostitute even though i tested positive for chlamydia. #adulting

making america worse than it already is. #adulting

a doctorate in cryptozoology. $$$. #adulting

sitting in a doctor's office watching ellen with terminal disease. #adulting

blaming gangs and video games for drugs and violent crimes when deep down i know it was me and my children. #adulting

posting an inspirational quote about how im empowered and over my ex on facebook before crying in the shower listening to celine dione. #adulting

od'd in a mcdonalds bathroom and never woke up. #adulting

i surround myself with people, but i am always alone. #adulting

i buy certain clothing brands to help me get laid. #adulting

pulled out a tooth with a pair of pliars and a pint of tequila, then placed it under my pillow to see if the tooth fairy is actually real because i just lost my dental insurance .#adulting

no love

don't get too close

because my sweaty dick

is a repeat offender

holding a buzzsaw

that's ready
to slice
you

into two messy pieces,

which can never be put back together.

straight down the middle.

clad in tight black leather chaps,
a white butcher's apron,

and a gas mask.

i am an infection.

i am the friend that's

worse than you're most hated enemy.
i am chernobyl.
i have the urge
to devour
anyone who
passes me
in the street
with one bite
then swallow,
pieces falling
into a bottomless
pit.

on my knees

begging you to take me out

with whatever's on hand,

as i absolve you of past sins

with greasy fingers,

tattooing bold oily x's

on your eyelids

in permanent marker.
blessed child

drowning in tainted holy water.

disarmed.

at my funeral,

i want my corpse

to be turned into a puppet,

strings tied to individual digits

that are able to control

my movements and expressions,

so everyone can take selfies

with a lifeless body in action
before the shovels dig
a hole into molten rock
surging in rivers
underneath the ground
and bury me within.

the sound of falling dirt,
lulling me to sleep.

icanhearyouhavingsex

when you closed your eyes,
i planted suicide bombers
in between your teeth
while waiting for the
light to creep over the horizon.
they splunk deeper into
the dark moist caverns of your body,
taking up tactical positions in the heart,
lungs, brain, stomach, and sexual organs;
nuzzling into the fleshy parts of yourself,
making themselves comfortable,
drinking liquor out of aluminum flasks,
just waiting for the command
to detonate in a large crowd
at a social gathering,
like at your sister's wedding,
or at your best friend's band's final show
or on your facebook newsfeed.
or maybe they will detonate
while you're sitting
alone on the toilet
taking a shit.
kamikaze love
menstruating blood
that i harvest
with a purple plastic bucket,
and dip the earth in
so i can pop it in my mouth,
and suck on it like a jawbreaker.
because everyone in this town
wants to be different,
which makes them all the same.
wearing longjohns under shorts
while eating molly
and organic vegetables
makes no fucking sense.
i want to be this generation's
flood, shoving a waterlogged
smart phone
down every throat
i can get my hands on.
gouging out my eyes
with pink/white french manicured nails,
and pouring bleach in my ears.
you will eventually leave just like
the stars in the morning
so i will feel less alone,
and that's perfectly okay
because i am
a smoldering campfire
killing time before i eventually burn out.
sitting around smoking cigarette butts
i found on the street,
while digging kitchen blades
into the abdomens of spiders
scuttling underneath my skin
then exhuming their punctured bodies
before taping them to my bedroom wall
and watching their spindly legs twitch.
trying to find any evidence
of what it means to be alive,
but only finding a speck of dirt in a vacuum,
and a scorched atlas.
cutting off different parts of myself,
thumbs, fingers, arms, toes,
legs, a tongue, fragments of skull,
a hard cock, an elbow, and
a pair of chapped lips,
then super gluing them
on the faces of your children,
as they squirm around
in pink embryonic fluid.
slicing the womb open with
surgical precision,
as i bite down
with fangs gripping
a peach colored chunk,
and pull back,
tearing open an opening,
so i can wash them with strings
of alcohol laced saliva,
before sewing the flaps
of skin back together
with a hypodermic needle
and green dental floss.
making them feel special
and cared for.
so i can get a piece
of funfetti cake
at a future ninja turtles themed
birthday party.
because i am the angel of death
embalmed in chaos,
and just to let you know,
even with the windows closed,
i can still
hear you having sex.

job interview

i went to a job interview today, where the person interviewing me asked multiple questions about myself and my qualities.
at the end, after the questions, he only had one thing left to say to me:
"kill yourself."

i remember when
the butterflies
fluttered in the
summer sun
lighting my stomach,
as my brain
worried about the
changes in the seasons
it's  cold
and i stare up at
the stars
choking
on my
own
vomit.

stay on main

talking to ghosts
in a hotel elevator
then hiding,
a riddle recorded
on security footage.
the meds don't seem
to help
the emotional swings.
im possessed by
executed serial killers.
the thoughts
blurring my vision.
exposing my brain
to the breeze belt
culling lullabies above
the penthouse floor
as red centipedes slither
through my ears.
so
i
disappear
into
a water tank
on the roof
and decompose
until the guests
complain
about the rancid smells
and black liquid
dripping from the taps.
then im found
asleep
under a twenty pound
green metal lid,
naked,
with my saturated clothes
cemented to the bottom.
the bulls suspect foul play
but the lack of evidence
means the conclusion
is checked off as
accidental
in a white little box.
yeah it sucks,
but i mean,
i still
post on tumblr
sometimes,
even without
a heartbeat or
a phone,
and
finally,
after 21 years,
everything's okay
because tomorrow
i wont have to worry
where ill spend the night..

homeless or dead in the next two weeks? find out after this commercial break

shooting blood
onto the grey and black pages
of a blank obituary
in tomorrow's paper.
donating
whatever bullshit
and broken teeth
are left
to random strangers,
a slack jaw
unable
to corroborate
the stories
between
my image
and my emotions.
whatever's left
can be consumed
by a plague
of bacteria,
advertisements,
and panic.
sitting in a car,
immersed in shivers and sweat,
sick,
and
alone,
looking at the memories
of former lovers
carved inside my skull,
comparing it to their
recent pictures:
twisted tongues,
limp wrists,
dyed hair,
brittle limbs,
punctured lungs,
swollen eyes,
cracked skin,
and brown bodily fluids
oozing out of nostrils,
into white bathroom sinks,
swirling down the drain.
no amount of make-up
or editing
can hide the fact
that they are
ugly and
missing a pulse,
like me.
but
the difference is
i don't hide it.
the difference is
i hide a trick up
my sleeve
no one will ever learn
until it's performed.
shh...it's a secret.
whispering words
softly into a void
in the dying light.
confessions hanging
in the air like
criminals with
ropes made out of
thousands of interlocking hands
gripping their necks.
if someone comes
across my body,
just let it rot
or
throw it
in the trash.
my sympathies
for the delay.

schools i graduated from:

st. mary's byzantine catholic school, closed 2003.

bishop hoban high school, closed 2007.

burlington college, closed 2016.

fuck seatbelts

i chew plastic
in slow motion
waiting for
someone to carry
my body
into
a
warm bed.
staying in the shadows.
swinging at
imaginary figures.
avoiding all eye contact.
i am daydreaming
a noose
around my neck
made out of the hands
of my former lovers
gripping my windpipe
until there is nothing
left
but a brain dead carcass
and eternal bliss.

i wont drive into
oncoming traffic,
but head on
into whatever guardrail
or concrete median i can
find.

the only difference between
you
and
me
is
some
people
want to
live
and
some people
want to
die.

happy mother's day bitch!

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