Brand new shoes

Snarling teeth bared for everyone to see

No pretending

No apologies 

Just hatefulness animosity callousness 

Cold sting of the high altitude 

Leaving me afraid of your rabid behavior 

Nowhere to run

Nowhere to hide

Left to the devices of those wanting extermination

Of me and all my kind

Now I shall be baptized into the mist

park ‘n sons

shadows of the past

demons twitching twisted thoughts

internal torment and writhing

feet fighting against nothing

panic fear dread

the darkness fills up my peripheral vision

emotions boxed up

no attachment to action

no happiness

no sadness

no excitement

the only thing left is survival

trapped in trepidation

frenzied fight or flight complex

but the veil is up

hiding the rational, explainable, traceable

leaving  the mirage of a human

rigid arms

legs shaking

eyes set deep

smiling flat

childish understanding

fucked up thought patterns

seismic tremors through the shell of flesh

horror of the glances

breathing in consternation

as the dopamine deficiency dance continues

when fire loses oxygen

here i am

here i am not me

my mind as neutral as motel wall art

my thoughts are soft like cat fur

my emotions pliable and bland

where the fuck is

my normal

my comfortable

my natural

irrational, gritty, fired up and fucked over

lost in the maze of neurons and menges

i can feel it like a ghost on the bed

but i can’t grab ahold of it

it’s not accessible

there are dust-devils of actions, reaction, inactions

whirling around

whipping through my consciousness

long enough

hard enough

fast enough

to remind me they are still there

mocking me that i can’t catch them

this isn’t the first time

this won’t be the last

the cycle me gets lost more easily these days

“idiopathic loss of cognition”

i need to live life by the teeth

i need to see the heavenly and evil in everything

i need to scream

i need to stomp

i need to be alive

i need to think

i need to feel

i fucking hate beige

ferris wheel & pink cotton candy

it’s a tumultuous feeling

calm

it seems like a lie

a temptation for tornadoes

to rip everything apart

leaving the soul barefoot

to navigate across shattered glass

quiet

a perfect indicator of emotional doom

the sniper in place

waiting for the order to fire

the ravens gather for the onslaught

serenity

leaving time for promises to die

giving way to mental destruction

defenseless, naked, unmasked, unaware

blind in a boxing match

peace

time to prepare myself

for the barbed wire dress

for the parade of the despised

amity

pacts and trusts in boxes

that i am unable to open

i don’t have the fucking key

i don’t have the fucking tools

harmony

what a bullshit mirage

put in place to make the thinking

go to doctors and hospitals

thorazine and depakote

frontal lobotomy life therapy

there is no comfort in joy

there is no contentment in tranquility

happiness is rotting flesh disguised with aromatherapy

 

interdependent web of existence

tears of the damned

numbers and numbers and numbers

representing individuals

representing

a man with a plan

a woman wanting to make bread

a child who loves rain

we watch numbers without names

names have too much value

when we hear names

the strings of attachment to humanity

pull too hard, decisions begin forming

actions feel necessary

 

200,000 people

one man who wanted to build a house

one young man in love with one young woman

one 70 year old man who just wanted to sleep without bombs

one 3 year old girl who never read

one 8 year old girl who loved the stars

one human being essential to the future

tragic

200,000 human beings with names and dreams and goals essential to the future

i wail for the loss of humanity

i weep for the transference of names to numbers

i cry for the percentages

i yearn desperate for what we have lost

i burn inside for the time

humanity overthrows the prejudice, power, division

i will keep the names of those who lived

those who have to face it again and again

etched in my soul

for the dead no longer pray

they no longer cry tears of the damned

 

 

 

the nevereverland

sometimes i hate you like i hate picasso

i hate the trust i see when i see you in beauty

the way the universe tries to hum me to sleep

like white noise or a wheezing granny’s cigarette breath

i hate when you let me fall down then extend your hand

i hate who i am so stupid and flimsy and frail

all the crisp white and neat 90 degree angles

it’s like a fucking birdcage with no fucking birds

just ridiculous and oddly obscene

living life in climate controlled boxes

bitchin’ and moanin’ about the rough life in uv lighting

sometimes people need to roam around

pace on red dirt roads and gravel trails going on

yellow grass littered with goat-head sticker patches

the beast of the satanic botanic gardens

sometimes i just need to hate you to hate me

like grit in my teeth or blisters on my toes

lovin’ ain’t soft or kind or sweet

hallmark and jazz-vomit for the masses

chocolate taste like shit, roses have thorns

love is pulling your guts out, dragging them behind you

it’s blind rage, arrogance and reckless stupidity

i know i love you because you break me

like a 75 year old virgin’s hymen, you break me

without thought or fear or knowledge

i hate you for making me know i am living

all i want is to stop

i love you because you are the most of everything

you are the sum of all that is ever been kind and pretty

i love you because even in the inside of a monster you illuminate

you radiate and shine casting light on imperfections

and drawing this insect out to orbit until her wings crumble

sometimes it’s better to bring a friend

it’s become a roller coaster

my life or what is left of the my in me

a roller coaster with loop-t-loops

giant mountains to click up slowly

there was a time worlds ago

or maybe worlds times ago

the free-fall down the orgasm

leaving a shaky kneed woman

in desperate need of a cigarette

the open air cluster of railroad cars

would stop at the appropriate platform

all passengers would exit-even me

leaving trails of giggles and squeals, virgin joy

i would walk, watching the people

mommy and daddy holding toddler’s hands

those girls and boys attempting

to catch the eye and various other anatomy

some succeeding quickly, fucking in the bushes

others pinned to walls or on the merry-go-round

the smell of bacon, fried food, beer and fear

permeated everything, everyone

i walked through “the house of honesty”

where the mirrors never lie

showing the viewers only flaws

driving the sane to rubbish

because inside everyone lives a demon or two

i paid my coin to the beautiful man

climbed inside the spinning wheel of divinity

a circle of orbs made of bamboo bars

the roof an ancient leather pulled taunt

a drum beat started pulsing

the vibrations shaking primal

setting into motion

the pod, the me, the earth, the galaxy

flora and fauna, the mystic, the naysayer

the gods and goddesses, humanity

all energy, all matter fixed and condensed

shaken not stirred for a second in time

there were sights never seen by human eyes

voices singing songs from other dimensions

walking for days, months, years

elvis the exit had left the building

the sun rising and setting but never darkness

finally the roller coaster again

“o my dear friend, to stir my passion

seduce me into self seduction…

let me see the world again swirling on your rails”

climbing on the heavy bar against my pelvis

the topless tram chugged forward

and the world faded away

i was there, alone, deserted

with no control, my life void of living

i only see the world flying by

small dots of others

skittering and scattering

doing things the living do

i live away from that

despite desire and despair i ride

because what do you do

when the roller coaster

doesn’t stop for you

antithesis

i was captured and locked away

i am a prisoner of war

my reckless stupidity and naivety

grabs my hair sending me flying

i can feel the gypsum board crack

it reverberates through all of me

i feel hands squeezing my throat

squeezing tighter and tighter

like trying to get blood from a stone

my lips turning blue and a smile of respite

a reprieve, indefinite furlough

naked to all and defenseless

my body is my holding cell

chains and bondage are unnecessary

hide-outs, rendezvous points

awards, grids and toasts

are for the armies and the lackluster

as for me, i just endure, exist

survival is the only option i have

perhaps it’s stockholm syndrome

…..

patty hearst’s story is romantic

for a moment or year

maybe real, maybe fairytales

she burned with passion

but i was captured by me

and me alone

i have felt times of vibrant elation

i have been branded from birth

i cry rivers and scream in hysterics

my desire, my most coveted

is peace and love

beseeching, pleading, praying

my forehead forever on the ground

i am bleeding and it will never stop

there is nothing tantalizing in that

 

 

 

plastic surgery of the soul

i feel like i have been walking in circles

round & round & round

under the hot texas august sun

lost in my own backyard

alone and scared and unsteady

who’s the mirage

who’s real

i forgot the comradary

of humanity and decency

the vivid, the lucid, the dull, the forgotten

dancing for protection of virtue

my fragile, feminine  virtue

submerging with no resistance

drowning in holy water

drowning in sand

the lies, manipulations, whispers

tornadoes whipped up by

-big red lips with big white teeth

-gawky and gangly and dull

-the progressive social sewage

it’s sand paper on my heart

wearing me down until i am raw

seeping infection of the soul

days of dignity are fading

truth and authenticity

packed their bags and hopped a train

the last we heard they were living in uruguay

under the new names

president jose mujica

&

his lovely wife lucia topolansky

 

*president jose mujica has been nicknamed “the poorest president in the world”, which is something that he seems to take much pride in-that and many many other things have put him on my top 100 most badass of the badassery list.

blood on the calla lily is a marvelous memory

i had a dream

so vivid, so clear, so lucid

my senses so provoked, so deranged

i cannot say for sure it was a dream or omen

i was wondering around

window shopping and people analyzing

the later of which i am known to do

even in the world outside of my dreams

but i loathe shopping-window or otherwise….

forgive me i lost my thought train…the dream

i was surrounded by steel and glass and concrete

i turned left or maybe it was right

but if it were right it was at the wrong place

my dream me wandered and wondered

then skipped and sang, whirling and twirling

because in dreams you can run even without legs

i must have walked thousands of dream miles

i must have walked for hundreds of dream days

the glass and concrete crumbled

there had been an epic battle

the passionate animated fighting the cold artificial

and by the looks of it all, the victor was the living things

there were groves of oak trees, ancient and warm

the grass was green and moist, soft under my feet

i could smell the sweetness of lilac and wisteria

there were bits of mistletoe hanging from branches

tiny hills of berries and nuts gathered on the path

i found refuge and rejuvenation and happiness

i spent time talking to life and listening as it replied

it was a spot of serenity, a retreat, but not home

and home was an unavoidable place

the way home was solemn and dour

as i walked ahead, painted people emerged

some in masks with sequence

some wearing the faces of animals

people dressed as nymphs and fairies

still others had simply painted smiles from ear to ear

i knew them all, even with their faces disguised

they were people i loved

they were people who said they loved me

friends and family descending on me

attacking like wolves on a deer

ripping me apart, gouging my eyes

crushing my trachea

joyfully leaving me there

to die properly and clean up when i finished