Take the Fun Pack Back

smooth small hands
against concrete
the defect on you
is the same on me
despite our grievances
despite our sour patch kids
we are only what we appear to be
stuck in this unholy, gentrified land
hi
yes.
be like them
day after day and hour after hour
consume monologue
like it's an important part
the possession
it overtakes me
the false ambition
it overtakes
devours
me.

The Days blend Into Drunk Nights

The Days blend Into Drunk Nights

(title 1_)

i don't know if it was the the air,
or the way the sun came into her small pink room
but it was nice
this small dollhouse, out on a Hollywood vine
despite the fact that hollywood tap water sickened me
and when i awoke,
i felt as if all the blood had rushed to my head
it always took me a minute to regain my balance
i sat in her cat clawed, dog hair covered tattered chair
and drank my coffee
shirt off, shoes off, i didn't want to speak
it was nice
it was almost noon, we had just gotten up
she walked her dog
while i let a mean one go
often, she says small comments with conviction
makes me want to slam the table and scream, "FUCK YES!"
sometimes, her head tilts a certain way, and the light catches her eyes
i become speechless
sucked in and tranced by her vicious look
it strikes me each time
and i am bewildered
and question our existence
question our purpose
the small drafts of air that blow in through the windows while we sleep
as our legs tangle and dance all night
fighting for blanket
then we become sweaty and it feels like velcro pulling away from each other
her hair pressed lightly to her forehead and sweet smell
its enough to fill any mans head with smiles
and
the cat jumps on the bed
and i can feel it rubbing across my legs and arms
purring like it does,
its soft coat against my grainy, hairy legs
and always
i reach out to pet it
and the cat runs away
but i watch him out of the corner of my eye
sneaky cat
i see you
and when i don't look
he comes back and rubs across my feet
its nice
its always nice there

Obliterate the Bastards

Kurtz wasn't kidding
when he muttered the words
through his crusty fevered lips
"the horror"
"the horror"
a graveyard of depleted souls
what will they say about our time?
our years with Mickey Mouse as president
about asexuality?
about gentrification??
hipsters
*spit*
these aren't due problems
they don't rest on you, me or i
i sit and think about all this shit
my purpose, money, sex, material things
none of this ever gets a rise out of me
what is all this?
these material bullshit things
this lack of motivation
i don't even tie my fucking shoes anymore!
we've become sloppy pigs
withering in each others bullshit
you saw all this coming didn't you?
oh.. oh.. it's cause you have a psych degree
you're a genius aren't you?
i'm not.
time
this time that continues
and eventually runs out
"live in the now" = *jerking motion*
every second equals a shot
take a deep breath
you'll be here for a long,
tired time
these things
this organization
this greenback
these undefinable,
unobtainable things
we have
time
yes
always with the time

Some of the Times

some of the times, a band spells it out:

"n Columbus they were shopping on the first day, the first official day of war. It's so easy being oblivious, and it's easy being self-absorbed inside of 80 different stores and coffee shops. The whole world's not like yours. There are many kinds of problems, not all of them are like yours or mine. But I forget that all the time.

Oh drama, are you all in my head? My problems aren't really all that bad. So distracted by the things that I don't have. How sad.

Our petty problems we add them up and we dwell on them half of the day. Our petty problem we add them up and they always get in the way. Our petty problems, so American. So caught up in our own little worlds.

Oh drama, are you all in my head? My problems aren't really all that bad. So distracted by the things that I don't have. How sad. How Sad."

Hollywood Water

we arrive, clean and tight
sit down to take a drink
of the hollywood water
taste almost like the bones of crushed writers
so then we sit
hands in laps
bored
then again we proceed to drink the bones
of crushed writers
ahh the glory of it all
and they're clicking their heels above my headrest
clink clack
oh my
before i rest it all,
it'll be here in the morning
come back!
"Come Back!"
the least of your body will severe from your thoughts
and a leak in the system
yes
Hollywood water gives me diarrhea too.

Ye Olde Crustic

we enter life through a vault
and exit on a leather bound book
we known nothing else
our time here is spent working to the core
quality of life gets pushed aside
the rat race
small crevices for us to crawl into
become red eyed, carnivorous creatures
and still wake each day
delusional and zombie like
punch the clock
and with each clicking of the clock
the death bell rings
shaving fragile minutes from us
with each parking ticket and traffic violation
the push us further and further into obliteration
asphalt will rise up, volcanic ash will litter our crops
and we'll still sit in our houses
waiting to be told what to do

Birds of Paradise

at least once a day
the flowers speak to me
as i'm walking to the car
they shout about almost everything
all at once
this constant babble and inaudible noise
that explains me as well
once a day
i mutter your name
and hardly ever frown
you are living, breathing, sweet smelling art
and perhaps i wasn't the right guy to fully appreciate
something beautiful like you
but we linger in positive space
and move quickly through the negative
alone, starring at the ceiling
i find comfort in your memory
you took a piece of my heart
as i'm sure i have a piece of yours
lets not trample each other out
lets not throw them in the disposal
but appreciate our differences for what they are

human.
we are simply human