Thursday, October 7, 2010

I Pulled my Susceptible by the Mess [Lunch Writing]






~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Well shit, there goes my face, reaching

it’s own


point, resembling

a big gay


old in Time: I

theory[ed]


theories

theorizing


apparently nothing much

matters


& now, I can’t bare

to listen


to how loud my

enemy’s


miseries have grown

so beautifully


that I cannot bare

to not just sit


here with my

shiteating


grin, gracing my elegant

chin, as if


to lose, all these

years


of worthless

studying


& in my mind I’m

absolutely


beautiful & awful

how this


thought hurts

in such gutting


ways of examining

our time


booger, is

a shittysort of


Time to laugh

together


all caught up

in each


other’s hair

becomes


a sudden map of

all my dirty


birdy

desires


playing around, reminds

me: “you look


so good when

you are on your



knees”


looking up

at me


so tender—[ily]

with such a wet


pie

down


there I go falling

down


again, draping

myself


along the West

Coast


where, I’ll never

fucking


return to who

I was


in my young

head


constraints what

good


I have left in this

shitty


equation of the self

smooths


across the crusted

mouth


can only hold

so many


before I’ll shit it

all out &


be left on my knees

gathering all those


veins & faces

under the


hard-pressed concerns:

“I had just


wanted to makes

my face


fog”

was


what I imagine, sometimes

is best left out


of understanding &just

dancing


together forming

an ill-fitting


choir was my

Voice


holding all the prayers

for what we


failured


in Youth : everything

was a pleasure


to scoop


as they say “in

the beginning


I was a butter

with


the nerves”of some

who end but


we won’t think about

that


now will we

baby—[?]


well (or

not) by


now

we


are

not


so well

when


pushed out the

hospital


of our days glare

back


so hostile so

to reboot


as nobody

showed


for our

show:


how fat we felt

every time


we took another inside &

Love, is


a risk


just not

worth


taking

stop


those pigeons in my

Heart


needs fixing so

badly


I wish, for something

familiar is


not


an option, I suppose

this is when


everyone I ever

loved


begins to flood

right back


into a parable of

which


reading the last

sentence


you realize there

were so few


so

you


knew the never

more would


never stop having

to Haunt


you’re less now, such

a mess which


takes

your


fucking

breath


away