Burroughs

your spirit
blackens everything at your fingers

and i am bones of the sun

and you can see how people
shake with electricity

shake with the right hand
shake like leaves

and of the tongue
something old under your breath
something dead
something on the brink of words

i can feel tension, blame,
a need to control... everything

i can feel tension
even in the walls

flowers can only wilt
flies can only lay eggs

complexions can only go pale


we cannot burn a bridge
that was never built


a lynx on baldy
and i am not your son

week-old snow in texas
and i am not your son

year zero
and i am not your son

lights in the sky
and i am not your son


"smash the control images
smash the control machine"

Polar

shivering a little, she asked if i was alright

and we are prison card games
forest fires 85% contained

but her constellation smile
orions belt
polaris so labia-esque
neptune floating in tar
revealed

i can feel
the ocean air piercing my back side
but there is warmth enough
right in front of me

right in front of me

Gem

it's something spontaneous
the cure-all
necessary bone revelation
of nicotine stained wallpaper
sweat stained bed sheets
a monochromatic mundane
a bed of ivy when you squint your eyes
patterns in the stucco ceiling

it's pouring gasoline
on the living room carpet
with your family bound by nylon rope
giving muffled screams and pleas
from the master bedroom down the hall

the luminescent moon
makes a ruby of a townhome

in a bed of sapphire

Jail

waiting for my name to be called

a thousand displaced stars descending
sparks of a cutting torch
breaching the bowels of heaven

and i'm waiting for my name to be called

where your singing voice
is only disease and filth
lined with the resin of crematoriums

and i'm waiting for my name to be called

floating prayers to the moon
to catch that current in the sky
1 1/2 months away

waiting for my name to be called

Wish

little eye lash
on my finger tip
waiting to disappear...

i can make it fly
with one exhale
i can watch it sail a million times
vanishing before my eyes

it feels like grave moss
welcoming every wish
to the ground...

she showed me
a painting
shes been working on

and i wished
that i could disappear
into it

as it turns out...



i did once

one "W" on each ass cheek

put in
the ground
and torture
was
loud angel velocity
dripping
stainless steel precision
find
the artery
ejaculatory
red
you must have
rosemary scent
ascension
july 4th retaining
voodoo laced eyes
tree line
glowing red
dead flies
on egg whites
and not even death
but
two years
and some months
of you
in just
a single
cup
of urine

untitled

for recreational use
with abuse
trying on the noose
i think it fits a little loose
like puppets have strings
no other meaning
that i suppose
and where the
time goes
no one knows
my perennial
seminal ventricle
squeamish
interaction
totalitarian
dubbed over
in lights so bright
and over luminary
no binary meanings
when you're dreaming
unwanted verse
in reverse fusion
for dogs like-minded
like-faced irreplaceable taste
interchangeable
how many assholes
does it take
to change a bulb?