Pornographic Living.

we tip bottles with impunity

as long as we can continue our sanity

taking deep breaths for all those drowned in vanity

and in this jail you only get one call of duty

this is the life you said would never suit me

and now i swim in bottle filled of induced clarity

you continue to pilfer from those who donate pedigree

and now i'm on one knee asking: will you please marry me?

we've got so much in common

we like to jump skeletons so often

pound flesh like we were laying in a coffin

death letters written to ourselves under the hearts we soften

with world wars under utility belts that we down play

to those with no idea of how far back our history rubs

and when i talk about content i tell them it's not like those other ones

we're unique to the point of obscenity we keep our identity

standing in a crowd, alone as an entity

time passes quickly when i'm inside of your infinity

and all my heart is devoted to your ability to make money

i love you for your body and how you live in places always sunny

and there's a bit of a draft between what we love and what we live

even bigger is what we receive and what we choose to give

and that's okay, because you F... the pool boy and i'm in an affair with the school toy

at the heavy teacher's petting zoo, we're gonna grab and fondle you

until you win the sexual science fair with your gorgeous hair that makes the crowd drool

it's an angel hair holocaust with every shower you take

and we can't quite figure out how often you fake

but we know you like it when i grab myself a rake

sift through turf in the undergarments

one day i'll place you in the La Brea tar pits

because your narcissism set me into the mood of crimes to commit

sitting on the sidelines while you wash the dishes and buy me socks

we all know you only married me because you like my...

but that's not the story you like to flaunt to the flock

and there's nothing left over in the refrigerated small talk

from inside out, i microwave all the things we spout to the city block

at the end of my career i was twenty two and i've mooched off of your stock

living in the limelight--giving you everything you can't count to

and now i'm just the strings on your shoe

tied once and tired out of view

now i'm sleeping on the solid decision walking in the freeway.

~Hollywood forever. an essay to write for your enjoyment.

Whiskey induced kisses; i really do love you,

Digress. 

The new chapter

as one page turns
another exposes the fine print
of what is yet to come.
allowing the pages to continue to fall
you can always go back
and see
see what once was.
to be left with the pages turned
and hidden in between the folded pages.
yet you left the window open and the pages turn,
quickly or slowly
back and forth from what was to what is.
now it's time to close the chapter of what was
and start writing a new one
exposing the only fine print
that you wish you could've seen.
slowly my pages have been turning
and i've been going back and forth
not allowing my new chapter to be written
now it's my chance
and i don't want to just yet.
i turned the pages back.
back to the day i felt safe.
only to find the wind blowing me back
to this scary part that i'm about to write.
i will never find myself peeking back at the pages
that once were.
but i know that all the pages to come
are because of what WAS.
a new page was written.
a new chapter just started.

Slipping subtle supplements of her instead of you, never seem to change the way I see the morning dew

As I carried her home she talked about such glorious things like sex and drugs and those moments in life when you are too fucked up to function.
I tried to explain to her about long poems, staring at her eyes and moments in life where you fell alive, but she didn’t hear me.
She was thinking different things while she dreamed on my shoulder.
When she was passed out on the floor she couldn’t understand that for the first time in my life I was right about something.
So I sat down uncomfortably in her room, and watched her sleep soundly half naked on the floor next to her bed, and I lit a cigarette.
I don’t put it out, but let it burn down to my finger tips and leave me slightly scared, so I don’t forget the night I finally spoke of love in a form I understood it.
I drove to the gas station, thought it would have been faster to walk, mostly cause walking would give me too much time to think about her waiting by her window, and besides, the headlights on the road somehow validate the lies I tell myself about the short comings of my life.
I promised myself that night that I would never let her tell me she loved me and mean it again, cause I could never tell her I love her and feel it again.

A Sign From Yves Tanguy.

i am prudent enough

to view superstition

as boondoggle

but

i am ascetic enough

to subscribe to it.

and now,

i find myself 

set aback

at my conclusion that

there is always something 

building towards me

building towards you

to expurgate our happiness

no matter which god you

favor.

~New cars, full of joy; old habits, full of anguish.

I don't have the right bandages for sexual healing,

Digress.