new year's kiss 2014

alone in my bathroom,
cumming into the toilet an hour before the ball drops,
i wipe the tip of my dick off with a piece of toilet paper,
and flush after i am finished.

i fill up the bath tub,
smoke a g-bong,
remove my tongue by pulling it
out of my mouth with my fingers,
and hang it on the towel rack next to the tub
just like an old lady taking out her dentures
before bed.

i won't need it tonight.

there is no one to talk to.
there is no one to kiss.
there is no one to sleepover, and play video games with.

tonight:
people are busy.
people are doing things.
going out to parties,
going out to bars,
spending time with family/friends/lovers,
people are grown up.
getting drunk,
chewing gum,
sucking on breath mints,
counting,
making out with strangers,
making out with boy/girlfriends,
dancing,
screaming,
peeing their pants,
laughing,
grinding,
snuggling,
vomiting,
bonding,
confident,
brave,
hopeful,
having fun.

i shut my cell phone off.

i'm taking a bath,
and watching cartoons on my laptop.

bringing in the new year nude.

i will put my tongue back into place tomorrow.

submerged under the water,
my body looks like a sunken battle ship
covered in coral
resting in the sand on the sea floor.

earlier tonight,
when i was sitting on the toilet,
i used my imagination to get off
instead of looking at porn.

little red riding hood meets the big bad wolf's dick

then gets pregnant, eaten alive, and slices her way out of the big bad wolf's stomach with a pocket knife, before cutting his balls off.

the big bad wolf bleeds out and dies on the wooden cottage floor.

little red riding hood aborts the half wolf, half human hybrids, and everyone lives happily ever after, except for little red riding hood who is traumatized by the whole experience, and becomes an alcoholic pill popper who works as a part time cashier at the local grocery store during the day, and as a call girl for pale businessmen in dry cleaned suits at night.

the end.

i can't answer your question honestly with a yes or no answer.

i don't know where to put next year
or the year after that.
or the year after that
or the year after that.

i don't know where to put the soil, wildflowers, worms, and multicolored leaves.

i don't know where to put all the unfinished projects, and ideas.

i don't know where to put my daydreams of what i think would make me happy.

i don't know where to put my lack of trying.

i don't know where to put the guilt.

i don't know where to put the friends that i will lose,
or the friends i've already lost,
or the people i have forgotten
or pissed off
or hurt
or made upset.

i don't know where to put the bad parts of me.

i don't know where to put the tears i have shed and collected in a mason jar.

i don't know where to put the nervous breakdowns, and suicidal thoughts.

i don't know where to put my childhood toys— rubber lizards, a broken gameboy, pogs, legos, uno cards, board games, and marbles.

i don't know where to put my baby teeth
or the weight i'm losing.

i don't know where to put the songs that have been stuck in my head.

i don't know where to put all of the old letters from people who said, "i love you."
or the late night long distance phone calls.

i don't know where to put my heart if it is still beating.

i dont know where to put the unspoken words i will never say.

i don't know.

my closet and bedroom drawers are already filled from the last time i cleaned my room.

trying to be attractive.

licking black dope snot off my upper lip,
and flashing yellow teeth and bloody gums.

yeah, i've never been in a long term relationship,
but you can marry me if you want
then chop me into pieces with a hatchet later.

i've got nothing better to do anyway.

homemade remedy for headaches.

sticking a string up my nostril and tying it around my brain, then attaching the other end to a car bumper, the car drives off, my brain pops out, and bounces off the road as it is dragged until there is nothing left.

this is my come up.

opprotunities

i'm not looking to open doors, just slamming them shut with my free hand in the way, breaking fingers.

i will send you a picture.

hands looking like blue, purple, and green pieces of coral that are snapped, oozing blood.

you can put it on your desk at work.

or set it as the wallpaper on your phone.

the teddy bears we were given at our birth won't save us from the inevitable

so it goes,
i'm filling up a styrofoam cup
with brown snowmelt and debris,
and slamming it down.
sure i'm poor and thirsty,
but there is no reason behind this.
trying to construct a life
for us
made out of ice in
a sub artic climate
and watching it fracture and crack.
nothing is permanent
is a sure way to
DEATH.
i haven't seen sunlight
in weeks
except for video recordings on
television.
spinning around in the dark
seeing flashes of light,
dizzy,
throwing up in the toilet,
this is how i've chosen to spend
my time:
peeling skin off my fingers
alone in a room
locked in my head.
sorry,
but i can't let myself off
that easy
because destroying something can be fun
beautiful, and terrifying
all at once.
because i'm not a good person,
and people's lives are happier
when i'm not included in them.
not compatible,
out of date,
and smelling like four week old
laundry covered in stains.
bind my wrist
with a spaghetti covered t-shirt.
then lick my cheek
to get the taste
of blight.
swirl it around your mouth,
and spit it down the drain.
i can talk for hours
about random shit
that isn't important.
i can glue cigarette butts
to my lips so any offensive words
are filtered out into
old fast food bags
with moldy hamburger buns
and cold fries.
there will be nothing left to interpret.
there will be nothing left to say,
except,
"hi, how are you?
that's good.
im fine.
im okay.
that's cool.
oh really?
wow.
uh oh.
what are you doing?
word.
hahaha.
i understand."
no you fucking don't.
fluently thinking
before speaking
is what we call a
conversation.
DEATH.
this is supposed to be natural?
normal?
snapping wires
that connect
something to something,
someone to someone,
by clenching my jaws.
i haven't eaten
or brushed my teeth all day.
i plan to kill every flower
in your house
by breathing on it.
i plan to make you
submit by breathing
bad breath into your face.
i plan to make you submit by swapping spit
with a radioactive tongue.
side effects may include
nausea, shortness of breath,
loss of limbs, wrinkles,
an erection lasting longer than sixteen hours,
infection of vital organs,
suicidal thoughts,
cancer,
DEATH.
DEATH.
DEATH.
DEATH.
DEATH.
DEATH.