Theres no Such Plate

in a city where everyone wants something
to be something
a rock star,
actors,
painters,
hair stylist,
promoters,
writers,
we are all such pigs
painted faces
wobbling in feces
rubbing it across our bodies
and decorating ourselves
with shiny sparkly beautiful "things"

ahhhhh

in a city where even the lights have regret
and the tall buildings are covered in bird shit
sidewalks covered in gum
and the gutters run purple with sangria
the bums sleep in the park
and pass the bottle
toothless laughs
and wide eyed grins
blind men with machine guns
not caring who they hit
its perfect

in a city where everyone loves
bukowski
kerouac and thompson
$90 fedoras with $60 ray-bans
faded band shirts
and denim tights
vegans
oh so rail thin
with your eyes sulked in

in a city where either way
the girls will come around here
with your sniffled coke dusted nose
held high in the air
with your loss of words
any other way you'll never be anything
but meat
dense meat
in line for the slaughter
and even the vegans cry out
"why are they looking at us like that?"

and still..

the t.v is on,
barely audible
goddamn dirty Billy Mays bastard
the girl across the hall is coming home
i hear her and boyfriend wobbling up the stairs
*giggle*
then the coffee machine makes it's last spurts
.....and it's quiet
a balloon shaped like a dog is taped to my wall
and sometimes i pet him
he'll never reach that bone
bastard
also, a small christmas tree
complete with fedora and sunglasses
he doesn't make as good conversation as the bear
and after all that
..it's still quiet
the birds chirp outside and small drafts of cold air come in
carrying that morning wetness
i put my face against the screen and wait
wait for the next small bit of air
if you make it this far
you've really fallen in
haven't you now?

Delicious

sometimes i just want to see some shit blow up
put a couple of explosives in a shoe
and watch the canvas fly
i don't shoot guns
for i have a weak trigger finger
but i hear bow and arrows are making a comeback
so i always have that
guitar strings break
and i've learned to work around that
cars break
they die
they cough
the windows fall down into their slots
i hear the passing trains
feel their rumble in my bed
hear their horns echo off the hillside
and shake me awake
i rub against your backside
and you moan a little
and jam your ass into my crouch
fuck you're so beautiful when you are quiet
sucks you have to pretend when you're awake
i pretend too...
around
you

That Sad Little Lamb

i watched how she pushed her tits up against the rail
she smelled like the ocean
her sad sagging chest
matched her sad sagging face
and i chalked up my hand
as she lifted her skirt in the photo booth
next door
i hear the old hag cough
night after night
i wonder if she hears the moans of the girls
that have rotated out of this bed
if only one of you were good
you'd stay
but you're not
and that's whats really sad
it's true that i love women
your unique smells
your soft skin and flowing hair
the shape of your skulls
your eyes and the way the light catches your face
it makes me weak in the knees
it makes my stomach knot
and my brain limp
and my balls swell with thoughts
but god
sometimes
you really drive it home
you'll never have all of me
because you'll never give
anything except what you want back
i hate men as well
you smug motherfuckers
i have to live with this
i can't just off myself
and in the event that i did
i'd take a large group of hipsters with me
i'd take that whole line of schmucks waiting outside
of American apparel for the cashier job
you make me sad
because you can't find your own identity
and you can't see beyond the scene
its true i'm not holy
but i rejoice in knowing
that i'm trying the best i can
everyday

sitting there
with our arms intangled
your hair sticking to your forehead
the sweet stench of whiskey
it was enough to make us smile
simple
simple minded drunks
how
sad
exactly

Safety Pins

this is my favorite time of day
indulge me
when everything is quiet
because we're all in our boxes
driving home from work
loosening the necktie
rolling up the sleeves
listening to NPR
on our way to our boxes
honking and pissed
sitting in traffic
smoking cigarettes
and holding our piss
our bladders crying
this is my favorite time of day
to sit outside for a bit
because this place feels empty
and that's exactly how i like it
later maybe
a few drinks and some laughter
but for right now
i can look out the window
and not have to say anything
to anyone
about nothing

Theres Already Two in Here, i Don't Need One More

i can see in your skin
it's leaking
foaming at the mouth
devouring everything in site
the crickets roar
the small plants grow
and all of us sleep
even when awake
our baggage to heavy to handle
when really
oh really
it means nothing
on this side of it
i laugh
how serious
how caring
laughter is the only way
for any of this to be worth bearing
everyday
wake up
coffee
shower
shit
shave
drive
cigarette
work
cigarette
work
work work work work woriwkorkwrowjkrljwlkrwjrwrwkrowrkworkwor
shit.
between those times
outside
it's appreciated
things that i can touch
realistically
are beautiful things
that i cannot share with anyone
except the few chosen
to be shit on