Stamps

My body is limp with exhaustion. Fog lights explore depths I have tried to forget. Lucifer lives in a nice subdivision. My God has no face. My God has no personality. My God doesn't exist. My God, I'm fucking bleeding. Today I went swimming and hit my head on the bottom of the pool. Skin peeled and I was bleeding pretty hard. It was embarrassing until I realized I didn't give a fuck. I'm thinking of sleeping forever. A death of my conscious mind. I could live forever in repeating dreams. I lie to myself. I wish I was really addicted to something.

Lynch mob wet dreams
Stained sheets mark ecstasy of hate
Words are what makes my fingers jump rhythmic on these keys
Words E X P A N D
and
(contract)
Words are what made tears break wet down to my neck
When you said
"I
feel
nothing."
These words bend to fit the context
incontextincontext
The pariah has nothing to carry him
He died in a box
Transcontinental flights canceled
Trepidation of abandonment keeps us all from sleeping
At what time did all this living turn to dying?

Father

Words drip slow, through the cracks between his crooked teeth. A southern draw that rolls steady and modest. He claims ancestry of Faulkner, I have never believed him. Tobacco sits complacent in a bulge under his lip. Dirty habits. Dirty habits. A 5'oclock shadow that can't tell time. The hair on his knuckles curl and his hair parts deep to his scalp. A face of trial. A face of error. A face of age. My face someday.

Her hard jaw line define her profile bold. With lips the color of grapefruit. A violent red. Her eyes shift with the weight of her perception; conscious, breathing, alive. Salvia smoke clouds her image, lines undergo ambiguity, soften and dull. The smoke spreads like dry ice, quick and free, finding a place to die in between the stucco and the gray specked linoleum. She laughs like a man, hardy and whole. I run my mouth down her skin, flaked and dry. She grabs my hair wild, tousles it with fury. Squeals of pleasure. She returns the favor. We make love. She stares at my cheekbones and says "You are the Odysseus to my Penelope. Don't make Poseidon angry, because I couldn't wait 20 years for you to come home. You know how I am." Her words echo in my thoughts as we go to sleep, carried by the humming of an air conditioner.

Salad days. Carnivorous nights. We are fucking cannibals. Eating each other flesh from bone. Ligaments pop cold on a dead night. Mars devours his child. Goya. Scary. I thrash my head like a beast in sun bathed pride.
Dark black fluid that makes my throat catch on fire. I am invincible. Fucking test me. Clocks synchronized, slowly fall out of sync. Moving in the imperfection of time. It is just relative. We are all fleeting. Forgotten matter that breaks down to nothing. WhydoIusethisconfusingwayofwriting?ToshowhowsmartIam?Anyonecoulddothis?Youhavetobeamotherfuckingbadasstosellitthough.Isellitgood. Deadwood trees shake away past lives and grow. Reaching beyond our atmosphere for the source of life. I only touch the source of life when she lets me. And when I do;
I
Understand
Everything

Airport

Carry on luggage that is worth more than my prostituted body. The hair on my arm sits modest and black. Like a cat I had when I was eight. Wheels roll against linoleum, droning out cell phone conversations and my silent screams. Starbucks. McDonald's. Braving a new direction. Cutting a new life. Surrounded by the same exact places. Why can't Abraham pull the trigger? FullOfLifeAndEnergy. DancingLikeNoOneIsWatching. Only to get my my skull crushed by someone better. The sirens sing sweet and I am hitting the rocks in a collision of enormity.
Close my eyes. dead.
Dead. my eyes are closed.

Heartbeat

Up from dusk to dawn. I'm tweaking on amphetamines. The doctor says I need them, and I do in a way he couldn't imagine. Objects sit idle in my room and I am the only moving denominator. Lusting after women. 7 deadly sins. Everything is deadly. Cancer. My bangs fit above my eyes geometrically. Donatello sculpted David. So did Michelangelo. Different ones though. Donatello's David is effeminate and weak like me. The sunlight drips onto the black asphalt, steaming the surface of the ground. Liquid hot pavement leads to a painful walk I forgot about when I was kissing the top of your neck. I listened to your heartbeat. It beat well. itbeatwell.