My soul on a platter for you to throw away

She was old and dieing in a hospital bed. Wrinkled and creating smells I never want to smell again. The cheap curtains to her dieing roommate pulled shut for some so called fake privacy. She had to have been about 98. I wasn’t for sure. I checked her blood pressure once, holding her shaking hand, as she mumbled off incoherent things from her saliva slobbering mouth with tears in her eyes. The thing about working in EMS or any kind of health situation is… you have to become a cold son of a bitch. You have to look at people that are dieing as nothing more then a burger frying up in a pan when your stomach hasn’t eaten in days.
If you ever get that gulp in your throat, then you are not doing your job.

 

Diary of a bi polar retard

George stayed up too late again drinking and having manic bursts of creativity. His mind was working rapidly as the booze soaked into his needing cells. He was reading Henry Millers first novel ‘moloch’ before getting bored with it, he quickly did get bored these lonely nights, with just about anything, TV, books, movies, people. He tossed the book against the TV, which sent the cat on his lap, flying off, into hysterics, digging its sleeping- suddenly awoken claws into George’s legs.
“u fuker! Ouch that hurt!” george yelled at the cat.
The cat scurried off under the bed. George smoked more seedy weed and wondered what to do next. He thought of the Richard braugitgan book he had finished at work. It was a book found by dick’s daughter after his death. George enjoyed remembering reading the book of a guy who had killed himself. It had its moments, yet still was somewhat boring. Everything seemed kinda boring to George lately. George stayed up too late again drinking. It was 3:33 am when he finally ate an ambien after drinking almost a fifth. He hadn’t eaten much all day. Maybe one corndog. Maybe a chunk of cheese. It was hard to remember. He never had much money to eat. Smoke and booze came first. Food was secondary. He had lost 30 pounds in the last 2 weeks with out one crack hit. Many times Bloody Marys were Georges dinner, breakfast and lunch. Yet George didn’t even know he had been losing weight rapidly, like some sort of sick junkie. he never weighed himself. but people at work began to say he looked thin, fit, and healthy.
“ha!” george would spurt back at them at times..
other people would come up to him buying their books and say..
“hey buddy, looks like you could use some sleep”
“ha!” George would say, george never spoke much.
...anyway, George made it into work, after vomiting all morning, tossing and turning, trying to jack off, staring at the clock and time. Waking up with strange hard on's, and drool all over his chin. Idiotic dreams half remembered of fantasy love charms from high school early daze. Garage door openers like earthquakes waking him every second he could almost rest his soul in early morning hours.
He wasn’t a happy camper when he showed up to work. The first person he saw was this chic that always makes him feel uncomfortable, that he works with. Some married Christian college miss perfect george bush voter graduate at 22. They exchanged worried glances, with muttered ‘hellos.’ Each person at work has a hold stack where you can put books you find that you would like to purchase someday from your hold stack. If you could only afford them on the shit salary they pay. The man. This chics hold stack was right under Georges hold stack. George proudly displayed his books on his hold stack for all to see. Books on serial killers. Books written by serial killers, books on how to grow and harvest your own opium poppy plants! To make heroin and tea. Painkillers. Novels of smut and drink and anger and truth. Psychology books. Sociology books. Strange spiritual books on Buddhism and Catholicism. Medications in thought.. metaphysical stuff, magic stuff.
Greek mythology, folklore of ancient Indians.. dam, all sorts of great stuff.
Curious george.
Most employees hid the books on their hold stacks. The chic that had the hold stack underneath Georges didn’t have much of a collection. Books on ‘Jesus luvs u’
Or
‘everyone gets depressed, turn to Jesus’
shit I don’t care to read about, I mean George
don’t, he’s done it all before man, don’t u see?
I mean sure religion works for some folks
And even Jesus may be real
Maybe Jesus even loves me! and george!
But most of the religious fanatics I have met through me and Georges many years together in life, always seem a lot creepier then any druggie, any so called freak I ever met..and way more close minded, much like both my folks. I grew up in a family of limey shit. My dads an atheist drunk. My mother an in denial drunk catholic freak. No wonder I beat the crap out of daddy recently. After 32 years of frustration.
“hey buddy, I aint 12 anymore, and next time u piss me off, or try and push me, or try and tell me to go eat thanksgiving dinners with people I don’t care to talk to. Hey buddy, I’ll knock u down again pops! And don’t ever forget that! One is never a man until he see’s that scared look on his fathers face, after a few punches and control for once.
And look at mother cry, look at mother cry. After she started the entire thing.
What happened to George, where is George
One time George joined an all born again Christian church called ‘life changers’
He had been smoking crack and doing coke and heroin for almost an entire month with little sleep.
Hold on, let me pause this, I need another bloody mary.
George shoved books away.
He went up to a funny girl he gets along with at work and told her..
“heh, some girl was just asking me on books to read, she wanted it, I told her to read ‘leaving las vegas’ by O’Brien, a another writer that died.
She looked at me with her own lil hell eyes.
“did u fuk her in the ass? Did u cum on her eyes?” she asked?
“my gawd, u are sick” I said, walking away
I picked up another nudey mag from the bathroom floor.
Flushed all the poop-ridden toilets.
Knowing she was only speaking what george had taught her.
I went over and looked at her holdstack, she had cool shit on it. like Willie Nelsons', and Cheech and Chong albums. Strange Johnny Cash tapes..
Well anyway. George stayed up way too late again drinking.. but he wouldn’t miss work.. he couldn’t miss work/.,..
His phone rang off the hook, but he refused to answer it.
George thought about corn dogs, and how he really did feel hungry now. man, a corndog. Or a chunk of cheese sure did sound good right now..
4 so called friends, all about 16 or 17 drove through the Malibu hills in a fast sports car- drinking beer and smoking good Humboldt pot, there were also two rich California girls with the 4 friends, hot as ever, perfect bodies, very few brain cells left- giggling amongst themselves -so that makes six human beings driving in an expensive car on a sunny day. young and stupid.
Demone, me, billy, alex, the two girls named gina, and flower.
Demone is driving.
He is blasting the music of Mozart.
I’m sitting shotgun. ( my name’s Norman)
We are all going to this secret spot up in the hills, where u have to climb this barb wired fence in order to walk across this huge lake with strange stone pillars and long way cement built crossings to reach the other side, like something out of a science fiction novel- to reach the other side, to reach chicken rock. The year is 1986.
“Norman here, is a virgin ladies” demone says, hitting the joint.
Everybody in the car laughs at Norman.
Norman slugs his beer.
“nah, I aint, demone’s just fukin around and shit” Norman says, as they all still laugh at him.
“sure thing pal, sure thing.” Demone says…in his smug way-
Norman’s blood begins to boil, he turns around and looks at alex and billy, they both stop laughing .
“Norman here, has only kissed one girl in his whole life, and that was in the third grade, and everyone called the girl butt hole mouth, cause her breath stank worse then a bloated cows pussy spurting out after birth” demone says..
all the people in the car continue to laugh at Norman because of Demones lying comments.
“Whatever bro” Norman mumbles… now drinking his beer like a man..not just tiny sluggy sips, but entire chuggles that polish the cans off in a few gulps..the beer feeds his hatred and anger towards these others around him…who have always laughed-
Norman ends up pushing him off the cliff, and everyone laughs with instead of against on that summer day. Everything dies. Even pride.

 

Hubert’s blue

Hubert drank after his shit job. He sat on his fuking chair staring at the TV and drinking. He didn’t feel like writing, didn’t feel like painting, didn’t feel like listening to music.
He use to enjoy all those things. He started to wonder what was wrong with himself. He packed some shitty weed and took a bong hit. His only friend, his cat, ‘keekars’ sat on his lap, purring a strange sound. He thought about beating off his cock. Even that didn’t seem like fun anymore. He flipped through the boring channels on the TV; he looked at all the books that surrounded him, all the movies, then stared at his cat again, who was stretched out on his legs, purring still.
“my names Hubert” he reminded himself, staring at the oblivious cat.
He put the TV to a channel of blue. Nothing but a blue screen in front of him. He enjoyed the silence. He pet his cat and tried not to think. His bones ached from lack of sleep and work everyday. His mind felt somewhat retarded, and he didn’t care about much anymore.
“my names Hubert” he said again, to his cat.
The cat just grinned at him with squinty eyes.
“oh my gawd, what’s wrong with me, what’s happening to me, am I dieing?” Hubert suddenly said, staring at the blue TV.
The cat started biting his hands.
Hubert stared blankly at the Keekars, not flinching a muscle.
Hubert heard a car drive by out on the road. He pushed keekars off his lap and peeked out his window blinds, paranoid.
A car slowly drove by. A bmw with tinted windows. Hubert’s eyes grew wide, wondering who they were. He couldn’t see any faces in the car, but he just knew that they were watching him. They had to be, why else would they be driving by his place late at night, all slowly? A camera flash went off from the bmw, and the car quickly flipped a u-turn, and drove off in the other direction.
“son of a bitch, I knew it, they are gonna get me keekars, I see them all the time, in the shadows, watching, observing me, why! Fukin why!?”
“meow” was keekars response.
Hubert got his coat on, put his best knife in his pocket, and went out into the cold air.
He went over near the horses and the donkeys behind a fence in a field.
He hid behind some bushes and waited for the mysterious car to drive by again. Minutes went by, hours went by. The horses and donkeys made strange noises, staring at him. For a while Hubert began to think that even the animals were part of the conspiracy against him. He watched. He waited. No car came. He got fed up. He walked back to his shithole apartment and started wondering what keekars was doing.
Hubert opened his dungy apartment to the smell of a fresh keekars turd. Keekars was on his un mad bed, taking a nap.
“ah, the life of a cat” Hubert said aloud.
Hubert lay in bed. He mixed another drink, but his body had grown to old to handle the poison it use to be able to take. Even alcohol had betrayed him. There was a weird twitch in his gut. It had been going on all day. He lifted his shirt and stared at his twitching skin, just to make sure it wasn’t all in his head. He saw his skin twitching again, as if there was something under it. He lay for a while and wondered if maybe he had some kind of worm living inside his body. It sure was possible. Hubert had read up on strange parasites and growing creatures, and creepy virus’s that infest ones body if u don’t wash enough, or shake the wrong persons hand.
“my names Hubert” he said again to himself.
He thought of all the microscopic bed bugs infesting his pillows and bed sheets, living off his flaking skin. It made him more worried. Hubert knew he should sleep. He stared at Keekars and envied his sleeping smiling whisker face.
Hubert got up and went and stared at the blue screen for another hour trying not to think about the worms and bed bugs and all the people out to get him.
That’s when he heard a car slowly drive by again outside his window. He opened the blinds and saw the bmw slowly driving by again.
“son of a fuk!” Hubert screamed, pulling his blinds all the way open.
“here I am! what do u want with me! what!” he screamed, punching his hand through the glass window.
A quick camera flash from the backseat of the car went off. The vehicle turned around again, and sped off.
Hubert slumped to the carpet, his stomach twitching more and more.
“what the fuk is wrong with me, I can’t understand the world around me anymore, I just want to sleep, gawd let me sleep a full night” he begged to no one.
Keekars came up to him and squirted some sort of weird green funk from his anal all over Hubert’s face.
Hubert began to cry.
“not u keekars, not u,” Hubert passed out.
an albino in the back of a tinted window bmw was on his cell phone speaking to an old rich lady with wrinkled skin. She had horrible brown eyes and only a few teeth left. Her sick scaly hand clutching the phone.
“did u get the pictures? Was he there?” she asked the albino.
“take a left down this alley” the albino told the pot-bellied driver.
“yes mam, we got him alright, we spotted him twice.”
“so the bastard is still alive?” she questioned, laughing a sickly laugh to herself, as she pet the head of keekars mother.
Hubert woke up and turned it on jellygun tv.

Jellygun TV

“hey wiggle wart, what u doing ?”
“playing with my nut sack”
“why u doing that wiggle wart?”
“cause I got melted chocolate raisins on it.”
“hey wiggle wart, what’s 2 plus 2?”
“14”
“correct wiggle wart”
a brief chuckle comes from one man in the crowd,
he covers his mouth, looking around worried.
“Hey wiggle wart?”
“yeah?”
“why don’t u take that blue piece of paper over there and give your eyeballs paper cuts”
“nah, I’m playing with my nut sack right now”
“hey wiggle wart, u ever heard that Beatles song, paper back writer?…”
wiggle wart stops playing with his nut sack
and stares at the person asking questions and says..
“I told you no questions about the beatles! I said that didn’t I!” he brings out a gun and places it on the glass table, his fingers covered in chocolate raisins and smelly ball sweat.
A beak for a nose, in grown toe nails on his forehead. eyebrows made of carrots.
“yes, I’m sorry wiggle wart, lets put the gun away”
“no, let it stay right there, and no more questions about the beatles!”
“ok wiggle wart, sure, no problem man.”
“that’s right !” wiggle wart says,
going back to rubbing his chocolate covered raisin ball sack.
“eh wiggle wart, how did your mommy die?”
wiggle wart gets a serious look on his frog lips and goose eyes.
“ she died in labor while having me.”
“Really?”
“yeah, I don’t lie”
“how did your dad die wiggle wart?”
“umm, he died on a trip to the moon,
he was an astronaut, the ship exploded half way there.”
laughter comes pouring out of the audience!
“dammit, I said no laughing!” wiggle wart demands..
pointing his shit covered finger at them.
“ok, no more laughing,” the question asker Chuckles, shuffling its question cards. shushing the audience.
“hey wiggle wart, why you so gosh darn stupid and ugly, and why are you such a gimp of society, and why do you think you have received so much attention from the media?”
Wiggle wart shifts his nut sack around adding more melted raisin chocolate and says..
“boy Mr. , that’s a long question, like a long tall sally”
A man in the audience covers his mouth, trying his hardest not to laugh at wiggle wart.
But then it happens. The man bursts out with laughter, it spews from his big gaping mouth and echoes through the entire studio, like a hurricane!
“That’s fukin it!” wiggle wart stands up, walks out into the audience with his gun, and point blank shoots the man in the temple, blood sprays all over the people sitting next to the man who couldn’t stop laughing.
Wiggle wart walks back on stage, sets his glass gun on the table, a gun on the glass table, depending which channel u get..knuck knuck..
“next question?” he says, going back to playing with his nut sack.
The thing asking questions now tries to hide its nervousness, the audience is scared and uncomfortable, yet quiet in anticipation.
“hey wiggle wart, ever heard the one about two grown men sitting in a bar, and an apple with legs comes walking up and asks for a whiskey cider?”
“can’t say that I have”
“me neither>”
“what kind of fukin joke was that! Not even a punch line!” wiggle wart demands!
“is it true wiggle wart
that u were a serial killer on the planet Doper in another life?”
“yes”
“would u care to expand on that?”
“no” wiggle wart says, flinging a chunk of brown mush off his middle finger at the thing asking questions. It connects nicely to the things nose. A lady in the audience covers her mouth, trying not to laugh, she knows what will happen if she laughs.
“hey wiggle wart, u fuking inbred reject of all stupidity, is it true that sometimes you listen to the ‘Cure’s’ song –‘pictures of you,’ and then cry like a lil girl?”
“who told you that?”
“I’m asking the questions here fukface”
“no comment” wiggle wart strokes his nut sack, smiling at the crowd.
“what’s 4 plus four wiggle wart?”
“32”
that same lady in the audience covers her mouth again, trying her hardest not to laugh, her eyes are almost popping out of her head, trying to hold it in. but its to late. She bursts out in laughter!
wiggle wart stands up, grabs his gun, walks out into the crowd, with the cameras rolling, the lights flashing down, punches her in her lip, sending her flying off her seat, he shoves his gun in her ear and blows her brains all over her husband sitting next to her.
Wiggle wart walks back on stage,
flicking some brown shit at her almost crying widow husband.
“next question?” wiggle wart sets his gun down on the glass table. the glass gun.
Mary poppins.
The thing asking questions straightens its tie.
“how is the world going to end wiggle wart u scum of the earth?” the questioner asks, as it begins humming lucy in the sky with diamonds.
“what’s that u are humming there!” wiggle wart demands
“answer the question! Answer the question wiggle wart!”
“what’s that u were humming! I fukin told u!”
“ok, im sorry wiggle wart, next question, do u think the beatles white album was made by aliens from your home planet?”
wiggle wart can’t believe his ears! He stops playing with his nut sack. Reaches for his gun. The question asker punches wiggle warts odd face.
Wiggle wart falls backwards.
“blackbird singing in the dead of night! George Harrison is dead! and his new album is coming out soon, and he’s dead! What the fuk do u think of that wiggle wart! Will u go out and buy his album!”
wiggle wart regains some of his senses, grabs his gun again, but a barbwire cage comes falling down from the stage set, and now he is like a caged animal, he always was a caged animal. He’s trapped, they had trip mines of electric currency rigged to the entire thing!
“eh wiggle wart! Why u so fukin ugly and stupid! And another thing, why is yoko still alive! And did you think sergeant peppers was really an answer to the bomb u planted on your fathers space ship!, turn the music on boys!” the question thing yells.
Speakers pump out “number 9 ! number 9! Number 9!”
The audience bursts out in laughter!
As the song echoes through wiggle warts ears, trapped in his cage.
He points the gun to his own beak, his fingers covered in chocolate raisin shit,!
“I told u people no laughing and no beatles! No! no!”
wiggle wart blows his brains all over his cage,
his head explodes like a smashed watermelon.
The theme music cuts off the beatles, the credits roll, the questions asker stands and bows to the audience. They cheer! They roar like mad beasts starving!
“until next week people, and remember you are only as stupid as you look, or maybe you are stupider than that! Ha! An apple with legs in a bar!”
the audience roars! Claps! Stands up!
The question thing takes another bow, its teeth glittering in the lights. The credits roll.
“and don’t forget people, next week we will have wiggle warts child on! Hubert the gimp boy! Don’t miss that folks! And goodnight from up here above all you stupid fuks! Goodnite America, god bless!”
the question thing, blows a huge kiss to the audience as they roar! And cheer!
The TV goes blue.
Keekars is on Hubert’s lap. A car . a bmw with tinted windows is driving by outside with a pot bellied driver and an albino in the backseat. The albino has a camera and a cell phone.
“what do u think that blue screen is all about in there?”
the pot-bellied driver asks the albino.
“shut your mouth.”
The albino looks up at the glowing blue room where Hubert sits, half passed out. Staring at the blue screen.
He dials the old crazy lady in her mansion. Her wheel chair creeks. She pets the head of keekars mom, and answers her phone.
The albino begins to speak. “We saw him, he was watching wiggle wart on jellygun tv mam.”
“ha, figures all that loser would be doing was watching that show.”
“mam,” the albino says, you paid to co produce it, it had made u millions of dollars.”
“I know that u fumbling white eyed freak of nature, now tell me when the next phase of the plan can begin? I want that drunken lump of blue TV watching shit up here on the 23’d floor before the week is out. He’s gonna be the next contestant on jellygun TV. it’ll be even better than all the revenues wiggle wart brought us in, not to mention media frenzy and more lawsuits.
The albino lights a smoke, pops an ambien…
“not long mam, we’ll get him soon, maybe tomorrow in the afternoon, when he always ventures out all hungover to pet the horses across the road. maybe we will nab him then.
“just do it quick, and don’t be seen, that’s what I pay you for you buffoon!” the old wrinkled lady slams the phone down.
“fukin bitch, drive up here and take a left on this dirt road driver.” The albino demands.

Hubert slowly dresses for his job. His head hurts. He barley slept. All his socks are dirty, shirts and pants wrinkled. His hair is white and long, black hair coming from his face in wild directions. Hubert eats some vitamins, feeds Mr. keekars, and eats some st johns wort, almost choking on it as he searched for his keys. He is already ten minutes late for his shit job and stoned with another bad hangover. He wishes he could just sit and gather his thoughts for a brief moment and maybe watch some jellygun TV, but time does not permit certain luxuries for very long. He drives to work, and notices the bmw tailing him the entire way. The pot he had smoked gets him more paranoid. He wonders what they want with him. The beatles our playing on his tape deck. He thinks of Mr. wiggle warts fate. He’d rather die then be on TV. Hubert gets out of his car in the parking lot, the heat of another sunny day shines down on his squinting eyes. The bmw pulls up to him, a tinted window in the backseat goes down and a flash goes off. It speeds away.
Hubert walks into work uglier and fuller of his life’s reality chain.

 

dorker

i’m a drunken idiot jerk
who writes drunken babble
then burns it the next day
darvecets can enhance ones perception
on even, steady now boy, hidden realities
after eating Rolaids
one may consider life
if it’s getting hard to see your feet
when u shower
then its time to rub the belly
& let it grow , let’s flourish
cause I don’t like muscle heads
use to- weighed 120 a few years ago
but was also living off chemicals
I can’t jog, cant lift weights
It’s hard enough to get out of bed
I can eat
Up to 175, fattest ever, I think
& go to some low paying job
& deal with all shiny happy rem people
it’s ok to think
gawd I hate that song
but if one breathes deeply
enough
things can happen
like half naked passed out
sick girlfriends laying in bed
as air conditioner pumps out
& every letter I type
on keyboard
is like some loud echo
of something that use to feel important
addicted to the slurred word
my brain throbbing next to you
a platter of deep fried truth
& your snoring flesh
with them dream like hand twitches
I’m out of ganja
I’m out of line
with dreaded chunks of hair
dangling off my knotted ears
lets order pizza
wake up honey
my cawk is sore from over spankin
Norman got his tax returns. He tried his hardest to be good with all that cash, paying bills, buying groceries…. but Norman had this problem, a severe addiction that started at a very young age. It all started with getting drunk. Then his mind would want more things
Things to help him forget, things to numb the pain of something he could never really describe.
Something so deep inside his brain and heart, this utter sadness & need for self-destruction. He began to hang out with more and more convicts and shady drug dealers who only wanted to use him. In a way he was pushing the limits of death, yet never seemed to die. Norman would just wake up broke, lack of sleep, frustrated with his own stupidity. He never felt so dead inside after all the last hits were taken. Many a night he wished for a loaded gun. He had even gone to see a psychologist. But after the second visit, the man told Norman he was out of his league, that Norman needed a psychiatrist.
“Why’s that?” Norman asked.
“Well, did you answer all the computer questions truthfully from the test I gave you the first time? The wanna be shrink asked.
“I never lie” Normans said, smirking.
“Well in that case buddy, you should be locked up in some sort of hospital right now.”
“Why, what did the tests say?” doc says,
“You are psychotic borderline manic skizo anti social sex addict cross addictive personality homicidal suicidal recluse imaginary world creator possible future serial killer drunk brain damaged head surgery criminal minded….”
Never go back. Liars. Just fine. Voices we all hear. It’s called multiple unconscious thoughts. fuk zyprexa. Just makes one dull and fat.
now git


tie me to the clouds of rain that fall backwards beyond horizontal markings with in musical justifications- for a moment inside these wandering all too hungry eyes smoldering atop the fire above-speak with me in puddles-inthefires-intherains-inthefires-intherains- beds of boredom arise like greek feasts of clogged toilet pipes connecting to over thought brain cells that kick on and off onandoff- once for one in all that I see-flashing images –floods & wars- suicide bombings when a doorbell rings like blasted alarm ears in crumbling rubble with a long stretchy scream in an empty room – get naked & scratch tiny chunks of flesh from my face while hopping around like a free prisoner on my soul with a hack sawed chain around a neck hauled from eternal sick sun shined second ticks-belt me a good one –tell me a good one-cradle me in teased scabbiness so when the ointment is applied I can pull my teeth out one by one- these fortunes for come with a wicked out dust found in gun residue air after a night of trigger pulling at the sky- for the coyote gut carries housecats while crying housewives eat burnt egg plants along broken walls –along the lines & lines of humans peeking through stalks of codeine morning hinges-
chastise memories in words with planets dropped ultimate body rot decay from inside this movement allows waves onto waves struggling arms in ocean sea salted tongue echoes- valleys of grazing goat howls- sling me around while cracking my head like a watermelon with your ancient glue remedy in pocket less times-get naked & show me what’s inside-get naked& let me come inside-affectionately spit my pet from sleeping cave dwellers & swallow another one boy while racing away to another dead end-
sad happy laughs with tears and sunset rainstorms crybaby come downs – need gun-

Random Ignorant thoughts

The baby ape sat behind the bed, just out of reach.
Curled up kitty ate tuna at midnight.
Yesterday was the same as today.
“Want to go out for a beer?”
“No, I’m busy”
when we sleep we eat out of ourselves.
Extended furry legs spray painted black and white.
Whiskey snout ear long gated brain ache bright light work shit.
Her tummy hung down passed her knees fermenting into the night’s waterfall mirage.

Santa clause sat in the middle of the mall sweating his ass off, hung over, the music was slowly driving him mad as each kid came up to sit on his lap, and either cried, or said what their greedy little beaks wanted for the big holiday.-5 fukin 50 an hour for this shit. Santa thought to himself pulling on his reindeer overalls. Two snooty lil punk kids stood high above flicking spit wads at him from the upper deck of the mall.

Mama kitty purred in the barn with her cubs suckling on her mama kitty nipples.
Papa kitty was out in the woods, ripping a bunny rabbit apart with his sharp teeth. Pulling the intestines out, stuffing his papa kitty furry belly.

Phone cord ripped now gone over to see if see saw said where torn artery said play on the swing set without sandals from downtown rip off.
“Would you like to go to an opera?”
“No, im busy”

big clouds turn dark blue-black white thin expansion lost weighted memories forgotten time seem morning came to be swallowed.
Enter world of snarks in hidden boxes to release trip mine shot gun rocket gun taser tau. Blowing peoples heads apart inside a computer game out of shear boredom.
Baby ape runs in fields through knee high corn past pastures of babies nuzzled in warm blankets near fires and smells of chicken soup frothing around the wooden cabins.
horse carriages in green fields bringing medicine on sunny days to junkie farmers plowing fields of cotton to sell a nickel a piece. Relief is a human word.

Exotic temples planted on purple mountains filled in harmonic voices that echo silent strumming acoustic guitar ashes. Stars from a Cracker Jack box floating along Santa Cruz candle lit shores summons coast of peacefulness among the wars.

Man on the side of the road on acid naked hitchhiking in winter storm with a bag of magical stones slung over his numb shoulder wondering just when it all began to happen.
Young boy milking cows on an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic when he looks up into the sky above to see a 747 coming down out of no where, doing a nose dive into all the screaming voices stuck to suitcases. Seawater rapture waves death, a swimming cow with calves.
A pirates boat with angry armored Jamaicans and Vikings screaming and swinging swords from over due hunger holding flags of conquer, eyes made from steel machines.

A man on break from work buys two packs of cigarettes and a cheap Japanese looking knife with a dragon on it for seven dollars and 99 cents. He nibbles on peanuts. But they could be cashews. his left eye is doused in visine yet is still redder than a slapped virgin’s face. Jonny wakes up in the sewer next to a toad. Trucks on the freeway overhead pass buy leaving loud echoes in his ears. He pulls a picture of Santa clause out of his back pocket.

It’s wet with mud and grease on it. Alligators are moving in to the swamps of the sewer in search of a holiday meal.
“hi, would you like to maybe go see a movie sometime, if your not to busy?”
“no, I cant, I’m busy”
Nick drake walked into the bookstore today with his guitar and he sat on the bench across from the register and began playing a new one he had made up since his death.
“but your dead” I told him.
A girl I work with came up to the register and said
“whom are you talking to?”
I looked at her. “huh?”
I looked back at the bench. There was nobody there.
Space ship world eyes eat lamb fat gross gravy clumps of stoner wished parasite traveler gypsy mask torn. Whatever you take to come up always makes you come down. Whatever you take to make you come up always makes you come down.

Lips in motion like seagulls over road kill rodent , I tried to swerve the vehicle..
Where’s mymind.
“would you like to take a journey to another part of the world with me? I have some frequent flyer miles out in the tomato pastures.”
“no, I cant, im busy”
“whom am I speaking too sir Henry?”

“my names Richard, as in dick, I’ll be your bartender for the night, what would you chumps be having tonight?”
two divorced ladies stare at each other, than back at dick.
“We’ll have two bloody mary's with a pickle and a slice of lime in Smirnoff please.”
The two ladies say at the exact same time. Then they whisper odd bird chirps to each other in fast forward motion.
Richard walks off to make their drinks. A slight chill running straight up his narcotic blooded spine. “fukin freaks tonight” he mumbles, looking over at these two guys in identical clown suits watching a boxing match on the large screen. Sitting in high chairs. All the clowns ordered all night was cheap canned beer and tomato juice.

A phone rings in a graveyard out in tim buk two. Two boys are cutting open a pumpkin in the middle of the graveyard.
“are you going to answer the phone?” one says to the other
“what phone? What are you talking about?” the other boy says, digging some seeds out and holding them up to the moon.
“the one the baby ape is calling on!”

a waitress gets an eviction notice. Her husband steals the kids. Her car broke down. Her fridge is empty. She has a cd in that only skips. She is staring at an atlas that leads to the center of her stomach. Her energy opens even with the stale air encircling her. She lifts her head up and watches a late night TV show while finishing the last of her husband’s vodka. She goes to bed smiling. Humming about her new Santa clause lover she met at the mall that day. On a chance encounter at the pizza food court. the blues Christmas mixed cd is blowing hymnals down locked gates in forests gone.

Ginger bread eggnog 14 faces rum ships into ports made from pier 39’s, fake mustard strings. rubber chunks. Larry ate barbecued apples with cooked duck on his canoe raft.
Swollen nose like Santa. Aches from abuse as if worked on a roof all day. Instead toxins carry with in their pleasure foams, all the pain in ones delusional whore infested universe.

The Christmas tree was free because all the vultures had bought one to early.
Pine needles among oriental rugs. I’m going to rent a 2 bedroom ginger bread house and invite humpty dumpy over if he brings Dorothy’s lizard for skoz for show and tell we told what could not always be told without eyes strapped to jets few fly.
“would you like to take a flight on my airline and maybe have some dinner over a few glasses of the consumption of your choice?”
“ummm, I’m kinda busy, but. Sure why not. I’ll do it.”
“you will what?”
“I said I will go”
“sorry, I didn’t expect that answer, so now I must change my mind, and inform you to whom are we speaking. I’m busy”
“what are you talking about?”
“what do you think im talking about!”

Rain fell over the lake in heavy downfall as lightning cracked through the humid air.
Richard the dick brought the divorced ladies their drinks.
“can I get you ladies anything else? I mean you two freaky chumps?”
the divorced ladies cuffed each other’s ears and made quick odd bird like sounds, giggling at Richard. Sipping on their drinks,
staring over at the two clowns watching boxing.
A man walked in looking lost and hungry, weathered and torn, scratching his head with a bloody nose swollen from years in life’s laundry cycling vibrator.
“a pay phone!” he shouted at dick…
Stupid vampire -
Hearing things that don’t exist
Feeling things that aren’t there
But maybe they are
Convinced someone is coming over to get me
To take me away and lock me up
Every creek or crack or movement
Is a sign that soon they will pull up
Breaking down my door
They are even in my computer
They try and delete my works all the time
Convincing myself it’s all real
Am I torturing myself?
Or is it some vast conspiracy that I can’t control
I know what im not suppose to do
And I know why, yet here I am doing it
Pulse rate beyond rapid
Fluttering mind of paranoia wont let me be
I hear some one walking around outside the window
Maybe they have a walkie talkie
Maybe that person is calling the others to move in
All my lights are out, but I bet that doesn’t convince them
Maybe even my beloved cat is in on it
Signaling them with his mind control whiskers
Under his fur and skin could be radio transmitters planted by them
Maybe the food I bought a few nights ago
Had poisonous tracking devices in it
That they put there, to watch me, all lodged up in my stomach
Maybe that’s why I refuse to eat today and yesterday
I started reading a new book today, bored and agro phobic to venture out
But the main characters name turned out to be mine
It frightened me, why would the author pick my name
Was he watching me from my bookshelf last night
Planning the entire episode
They want me to buy another gun because they stole my last one
I do believe if the phone rang right now my heart would stop
They have all my phones tapped, at work, and at home,
What if time doesn’t exist but for me only, what if humans no longer needed sleep,
Maybe sleep is just a big cover up to keep us quiet at times
So we can’t really see for too long what they are plotting
Im convinced the over head lights at work have been tampered with
To make things way to bright, their rays try and brainwash me into insanity
To finally pull the rip chord that didn’t work
By the end of each workday I have these intense headaches
If I only had a job where I worked alone, where no one could see me,
They could read what I wrote and send me money for it, but could never see my face,
I would never have to answer questions or talk among the employees
Who by the way seem to all think they are in on some private joke
And they think I don’t know what goes on, like I don’t have ears,
They too might even work for the walkie talkie people outside
Getting over time pay to spy on me
and report back to the head leader who tampered with the lights
Who may have implanted that stuff in my food and in my cat’s stomach?
Has my mind crossed over into some other world no one else can feel?
Or maybe that is all part of their plan to make me think that the voices aren’t real
Some extravagant plot to try and medicate me again
It use to be a passing phase until too many coincidences started happening
Last night I had written an epic chunk of the novel for hours
Then suddenly my computer crashed and it was all lost
The document was still there, but was now written in Japanese with a virus attached to it
And could not be restored to its original format, don’t you see?
They are slowly trying to do me in- constantly keeping tabs
I even tried to make friends with a few once, but they had orders to be silent
They also control the ice maker in the freezer and only make ice
When they feel I have obeyed their constant demands
I better stop telling you all this, they are getting pissed off
I can tell by the radio waves in my cat and whatever they implanted in me
I hear more then one now outside with an advanced walkie talkie
They are taking up positions for the plan they originally stole from me
When I was younger, they broke in and stole my maps I had been working on for years,
Not earthly maps, but maps to the other world, which now, I’m afraid of
I better go out in the woods now and hide, I think if I eat tree bark
It will scramble their radio signals for a short time, until they start again-
There I was in this little shack in the middle of the night staring out the white window, washing my hands in the kitchen sink. A blue Chevy pulled up and these two undercover cops got out with shotguns and started walking up to the shack. I panicked, ran in the basement, and tripped over all these dead bodies that were lying around in piles of soil. I hid in the corner of the basement. I was naked.. I heard them come in and they started yelling in Russian. I scurried around the cold floor and found this door that led further into another nightmare. Don’t call her anymore
She doesn’t love u
She came over and used u for coke
Said on new years
That she wasn’t doing anything
Then went and hung with her man
Dude, wake the fuk up! She is pure
Selfish evil, not to mention a soulless whore clown boy. Bounce boy, jump, skip like a drunken faggot puking fire works-
People coming over uninvited, lots of them, women, men, me wired wanting alone time. Weird. Trying to cope. Sitting, staring, silent. Them asking who did all the paintings on wall. I can’t talk. My friend who brought all his friends answers for me. “He did all those.”
Wowie, that’s great, neato, those are amazing, can you paint me one? Can I buy one off you? strange faces staring at me.
Me sitting, unable to talk.
I manage to mumble a thankyou as they pull out weed and lines and babble away. I’m not sure if im mad they are here or happy. They seem alright I guess. They have drugs.
They just showed up at a bad time for me. I decide to guzzle more booze and try and stop acting and looking like some grouchy sick mental patient. I can act when need be.
First I talk to the hottest girl. But then realize all hot girls already have boyfriends, so I pick out the fatter one and begin to talk to her. She likes drugs. I like drugs. We exchange numbers. Eddie, the friend that brought them leaves something in my bathroom for me.
I start feeling more sociable. One girl tells me she is a writer.
“oh, that’s wonderful” I respond somewhat sarcastically.
Eddie has to open his mouth.
“Norman’s a published writer.” He tells her.
“oh wow, groovy, like what sort of stuff do you write?”
“Nothing, I dun no, shit about life and people and I dun know, shit in my head.”
“That’s great,” she said, filled with glee.
“I burn all my stuff after I write it.” she says
“Why?” I ask?
“Cause I’m to insecure to let anyone read it.”
“Drink more alcohol.” I tell her, as she hits the bong.
Then everyone starts talking at once. I feel like I am losing my mind and that I am a gigantic ugly paranoid looking deformed half cockroach, half man mutant. What the hells wrong with me. I sit and stare at the walls, and say nothing. I feel dead yet am breathing and blinking my eyelids very quickly taking it all in somewhere.
It was snowing outside and Billy was colder then a corpse floating in a frozen lake of solitude.. He pulled the icy sleeping bag around his shoulders and tried to make some sort of sense through the crazy thoughts. He wondered how he ended up homeless in this park, near the river.
He wanted to make it all better, but everything just seemed to get worse. Billy tried not to think. Thinking only caused tears. He wanted to survive for some reason. But this was no way for a man to live. His shivering body began to go into the first stages of hypothermia Billy took a slug off his whiskey bottle, and dug his frozen fingers into his wet cold pockets, searching for a little bit of change for some hot coffee.
The woods around him were so un forgiving, so lonely, and filled with white snow, like nuclear dust surrounding chapped lips, that continued to fall from the nights gray sky. His sleeping bag was wet and frozen. Billy’s shaky shivering half blue hands reached into his wet coat pocket, hoping he had one cigarette left. They even give a cigarette to a man on death row, in his final hour. But Billy’s luck was just about all used up.
He had many chances in his life to figure things out. But it was all the dam people and the voices that always confused him. He never had a chance to listen to his own thoughts, until now. All his thoughts tried to turn to warmth. He knew he would freeze to death soon. Billy pulled himself up off the cold ground, and began to stumble towards the city lights.
Billy headed towards his xgirlfriends house. It was about a four-mile walk. People in warm heated cars, drove by him, yelling insults at his appearance, spitting at him, throwing bottles at his cold head. Tears poured down his face. He thought of his dead mother, his retarded father, and his sister in the mental institution. He thought of every person who ever cared for him. Then he realized no one ever had, except Joan. Joan, his xgirlfriend, who had kicked him out 3 months ago. Oh god, love, what a horrible thing to go wrong. Was it Robert plant that sung… “soul of a woman was created below?” probably copied it off some black blues man from the delta. Beyond cold. Something about Michigan weather and the people it breeds.
so this dude, this musician at the bar told me
it’s normal to feel depressed all the time
I had been crying and shit
Just like a little girl with no barbies
and that everyone gets like that, and that we
must fight through it, must get up and jump around
with energy and happiness, must carry on..
it’s normal to cry every night and drink he told me,
but we have a calling he said..
then he ran to the bathroom to vomit
he had cheered me up a bit
that and about my 15’th drink since 9 a.m. Friday morning..
but the thing is, the thing is..
when one wants to die, when I feel like giving up…
someone, something, some sort of not angel.?. but some force
some energetic being is sent my way
to save me for a brief time, to inspire me,
to speak of this hope in one’s own world
even when that world is somewhere
no one could have ever been
so I cheered up, as the warm up band
started playing zeppelin
me, the bartender, an enlightened one,
this drunken cheery conflicted guy, we sat around
in an empty Texas bar talking about
life, issues, sadness, women, future, music, writing..
I started feeling ok again
As college boys played some song off
houses
of the holy
In most situations that would have made me mad
But it couldn’t have got any worse
then I felt, so all this was great
this band, these dudes talking to me
telling me it was all gonna be ok.

bartender says, u don’t need anti depressants
all you need is life man, just live life man.. he said..
i burped, we smiled
then the other guy
started crying, and broke his
Glass on the ground
about 30 minutes later
I tried to break up a fight
between these guys
who helped me
But was told to “Fuck off!”
from the peaceful happy drunk
Who had helped me
Then I hugged him
when I left later on
then I met these two criminals from Detroit
while I was out in the parking lot
staring at this dudes Harley
Cause he told me to go stand by it
pretend it was mine
said it worked like a chick magnet..
instead,
I left with America’s most wanted
and we drove around trailer parks looking to score,
then we head back to their
pad, the motel six
Just off Texas avenue
Vultures everywhere, just as I had remembered
Fiends with rooms
doors open, hookers, crack heads, junkies.
my goodness I was home again. Texas.
in my own missing nightmare
the guns didn’t matter
their warrants
and tat’s among black eyes
no matter, I had left my place to begin with
on a suicide mission, now I was having fun, now I felt
like I had finally cut loose
all the chains that bind me for
the last 6 months
I was also risking death..
Jail.. ass kicking.. but u know
The brothers told me
“DETROIT!”
maybe it was a Michigan thing
we spent all are money, got ripped off in fact once..
hmm,, that’s when the guns came out…

 

suicide is for pussies

and I sat in motel as these two crazy
fuckers ran down the street to
kill some black man
over a 100 dollar deal

I wised up, and wanted to live for a minute or two..
all my money was gone, and all the
cars, the rooms, became more
Of those aliens in my head..
But it was a good time to split
I dropped the fugitive Michigan brothers
back off at the hippie bar
Telling them
I’d be in touch
what a sketchy drive home
I almost felt at home
Just had to get that monkey off back for a bit
Just had to get out of
This faking self absorbed room I sit in
To see life most only watch
On the TV..
another adventure
among the many

a lot of other things happened
but my head is still recovering
and I am still alive
thinking about that
dude at the bar
and how others, even if fuked up,
can help others, fuked up nights..
lively desperate humans
filled with stories and scars
u can’t read in books yet
let the natural situations one
acquires
kill the flesh
stretch the mind
tin
can
hole
poked
we all save ourselves
in unique ways among submarine
war ships
deep under the Bermuda triangle
smooshing spiders
on white walls
the size of
palms in Texas fumes
sweet tastes never last long
like unwatered tropical trees
with used needles collecting dirty rain drops
past midnight with ocean waves
just out of earshot
did I mention the Mexican tar
Mr. positive

I don’t like football, American, or European,
don’t like apple pie or baseball
don’t like most movies or TV or the Olympics
don’t like housewives & credit cards
don’t like dads with sons in bookstores
being all jolly & repetitive
don’t like college or college kids
didn’t like high school or high school kids

don’t like bright stores
i don’t like guys who ware tight wranglers and talk real loud with cowboy hats on
i don’t like women who ware American flag shirts, all fucking patriotic,
& drive mini vans, and pick their darling kids up from soccer practice
don’t like yuppie neighborhoods or communities
don’t like lying whores who trick honest loyal people

don’t like fast food joints that cant get my simple order correct
Can’t stand malls, or the people in them..hate crowds.
didn’t like to hear people talk when i don’t want to hear them talk
like standing in line at the grocery store
don’t like bosses- or work 40 hour a week for shit pay
don’t like people with huge egos and huge opinions on subjects I don’t care about

don’t like nazis or racists or myself most times
don’t agree with organized religions & governments who kill & judge
cant stand liberals, cant stand right wingers-
don’t like having to pay bills and rent and stuff like that,
I don’t care for people who always seem to have some answer to some dumb question

don’t like when my truck runs out of gas in the middle of nowhere when its snowing out

guess I don’t really like people with agendas
I guess I don’t really like people who know what month and day it is
don’t like school spirit or football, or what state you live in spirit
Don’t like cavities and sore broken old bones
don’t like labels, I don’t like slackers, I don’t like mtv,
don’t like working out in gyms, don’t like go getters-
I don’t like users and phony conversations,
don’t like to smile or eat all my vegetables or stand up straight

I don’t like hot pavement with bare feet
don’t like frozen snow with soggy socks
I do like the blues though late at night after drinking a case
And smoking 4 blunts
sometimes people dream
&
can’t explain
what they dreamt
other times people
dream
but are
always awake

some walk the fine line
of reality and dreams
some never do either
so who fucking cares

 

Spackle smacker

Solten dropped his fork in the cat litter. He sat staring at it while the pancakes began to burn on his stovetop gas oven. No fire alarms went off because he had pulled them all off the walls one crazy night after hot boxing his living room with a variety of smokes. He wanted the phone to ring. For some dam reason solten wanted someone one to call him. The phone wouldn’t ring. He had cut the cord to it, plus it was a fisher price phone he had found along the edges of the town dump. You’re just a stupid fragment, solten thought to himself. He stopped staring at the fork in the cat littered pissy smelly shit and grabbed the burning pancakes in the burning smoking pan, burning his hand, he tossed it in his backyard, and yelled “Eat that coppers!”
Solten always thought the cops were hiding out in his backyard. He quickly locked the door again and one of his cats gave him a meow. Solten sat down on the floor and stared at his cats, he cracked a window to let some of the smoke out and picked up his fisher price child’s phone and began to dial a number one of the cats had told him to dial.
He held the plastic phone to his ear.
“Hey how are you?, its fritter boys.” He said into the phone.
“Man it’s been a while since I talked to you fritter, thanks kitters for the number.” Solten said, smiling at his odd cats.
“Don’t say that fritter, look asshole, we haven’t spoke in a while, why do you have to mention her name?”
there was a long pause as solten stared into spaced bubbles only he sees. His cats began to talk to each other telepathetically.
Pickles saying to leozane..
“You weren’t kiddin man, he really is nuts.”
“Just wait dude, it gets worse,” leozane answered.
Solten slugged the last of jim beam, most of it slobbering on his stained yellow shirt. his smelly zitty neck.
“I know that Fritter! Oh bullshit! It wasn’t my fault! how can you say that!”
The cats stared at each grinning.
Solten had a cigarette lit in each hand, nervously smoking puffs off each.
“She attacked me with her fists! Started punching me in the face over a glass bong Fritter!”
There was another long pause, as Solten listened into the phone to fritters answer.
“Bullshit! Fuk you too then! You were a pussy when we were in nam, and you are nothing but a fuking jerk now!”
Solten slammed the plastic phone down as blind Willie Johnson blared from his half broken tape deck.. the blind black man sung about, everybody better treat a stranger right..
The cats ran for it, under the bed.
“Rodents!” Solten screamed.
Solten opened his front door because someone was knocking, no one was there.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked the frigid Texas air.
He pushed his crack pipe as tears poured down his face, he shot gunned 4 beers in a row and swallowed 4 more xanax, ate half a zyprexas and waited for sleep.
The cats started meowing for food.
“Quit being drama queens!” solten yelled at his cats..
“I aint got no food for me either, I fed the cops already! How dare you say that pickles!”
The cats ran under the bed again.
“I Told you dude.” Leozane told pickles.
“Holy shit, what the fuks wrong with him anyhow?” pickles asked.
“I have no idea man, but get use to it.” leozane answered.
Solten began to paint on his walls, splattering brown and white and yellows and pinks and purples and blacks, and blues all over the walls. it made him happy for a brief moment.
Until someone really did knock on his door. It was some neighbor he had never met. He answered his door.
“Are you the convoy to the ship?” Solten asked the neighbor.
The neighbor asked solten to turn down his music.
“When did you meet her you fuker!?”
“Meet who? I just want you to turn the music down so me and my wife can get some rest?”
Solten stared at the dudes face. A scary stare.
“Do you have cable?” solten asked the neighbor.
“Yeah? Why?”
“because you’re on TV being raped by Iraqi soldiers!”
Solten slammed the door on the neighbors face, turning the music up louder.
He already knew that the coppers were always watching him, in his backyard, surrounding his house, which cares how loud the music is.
The smashed plastic phone rang over and over.
Solten picked up the half broken receiver, and it was her voice, crying, drunk…
“I am so sorry! I am so sorry!” she cried.
“Forget about it, go to bed, sleep it off” solten said to her.
“I cant, ive been drinking all day and I tried to slice my wrists again.”
“Oh jesus, why do you have to do this, there is enough drama queens in the world, there is no need for all this drama”
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I just want to lay in your bed” she weeped.
“Can you hear them in the backyard?” Solten asked her,
“Hear whom?” she begged.
“Them, they are everywhere!” he told her
“Have you been smoking crack again?” she cried.
“Are you bleeding?” he asked her?
The tape stopped. One of the cats chased a roach across the wooden floor.
“I wrapped them in paper towels” she cried.
“I met a neighbor tonight.” He said.
“Can you hear the trains?” she wept.
“I can hear the trains darlin, I can hear the trains.” Solten said, loading his gun as he had for so many nights alone.
“I’m coming over, I want to be in you’re bed, I’m so sorry.” She cried.
“OK, but there’s a fork in the cat litter and I got yellow wax in my ears, I burnt the pancakes.”
“What?” she asked.
The cats looked at each other stunned.
“Dudes of fukin weirdo man, he better feed us soon, or im running out the front door next time he opens it.”
“Don’t leave without me” the other cat said.
Solten began to pour salt on her wounds before she arrived, pour sugar on his broken phone, gave the bill collector some monopoly money and paged the man with the pop rocks that sizzled in the late night blues. A car pulled up. poured himself some vegetable oil and vodka, slobbering down, peeking out backyard windows. He had hoped fritters feelings weren’t hurt.
cops no bang don’t if gork eats those shouldn’t have cause waited sad if happy gone to river feel for corks finished gold china rocks meow tailed along lined upwards foot ahead feel gork don’t eat said sure thing bombs wicks worried who history put brain wired on tap guest what should been there dog ran teeth clattered hopes sing norman flinted hotel lobby plants bottle ice market fresh bones tingle beat heart rapid tug yank anchor it ship splash boom fourth of zulies celebration boom lost loved could gork didn’t want eat sand e mu cme behave bad good ridged cell neutrons absolute hungry today was watch no how to dangle roots fevered hair oil spit cut castles snow men pull tug bam boom careful cause gork jamboree jail regrets remembrance glass broke in streets parades klown man hide to back saddle up boy girl bed TV martinis broad smiles tear rain victim abuser if gork don’t eat galoshes air adapter breath water shark gulf chase drive away lights sky cloud open curtain explode together tweak soft touch calm guitar stringed rapid pulse wrong eat no gork wait sun moon if then they she I could shatter no what now gobble eat bad today if said so watch stop-


Stop it 1

the toad flopped down in with what I couldn’t see it all to poster ripped heaven cement ham vitamin lid coffee for when she said do not with curdles back soup today was when justice poking in on out so smoke fueled gork like sad in to be smiled yellow called me ginger head dig that goose wallowed van rides ok ok ok now, cant cause edge of paper burnt shine through jar cracked crystallized meth gone once over there in plane fourth of stuly’s super last wait no, have some chased ran stopped caught breath in excess do question gork if intensive care stroke healing hands grind often with sore daisy done it now could should seen the wiggling sauna frilled alone alive dipped sausage sprout cme go over jump around this cave cotton candy antenna dream word said duck duck goose we all fall down mary lamb bowhead team player no win lose cause yesterdays illumination hollow filled sky changed color wrong exit noose rested sleepless lemonade lips longed protect circle sought sow digging gork gone up altitudes freewarmth humming hissing back step noodle heavy polka dance broken leg cry smash that past drive sunset everywhere snow changed got that yard, two, three, stop stop stop, wait, cups dropped feeled ok ok ok now gork said pull hammer break open touch insides carry away in front shadow gallop skip could have not in pond floating eye twitch more calcium garlic pills ouch, don’t, who did gork said can relax first fish finer talk nail shatter shake roll bubble popped put in pull out mirror sick healthy wrong way up chuck balcony smoke no go home waddle zonkzest pow pow pow fireworks plane hit bomb boom library breath tonsils ache today watch
cops no bang don’t if gork eats those shouldn’t have cause waited sad if happy gone to river feel for corks finished gold china rocks meow tailed along lined upwards foot ahead feel gork don’t eat said sure thing bombs wicks worried who history put brain wired on tap guest what should been there dog ran teeth clattered hopes sing norman flinted hotel lobby plants bottle ice market fresh bones tingle beat heart rapid tug yank anchor it ship splash boom fourth of zulies celebration boom lost loved could gork didn’t want eat sand e mu cme behave bad good ridged cell neutrons absolute hungry today was watch no how to dangle roots fevered hair oil spit cut castles snow men pull tug bam boom careful cause gork jamboree jail regrets remembrance glass broke in streets parades klown man hide to back saddle up boy girl bed TV martinis broad smiles tear rain victim abuser if gork don’t eat galoshes air adapter breath water shark gulf chase drive away lights sky cloud open curtain explode together tweak soft touch calm guitar stringed rapid pulse wrong eat no gork wait sun moon if then they she I could shatter no what now gobble eat bad today if said so watch stop-
cops no bang don’t if gork eats those shouldn’t have cause waited sad if happy gone to river feel for corks finished gold china rocks meow tailed along lined upwards foot ahead feel gork don’t eat said sure thing bombs wicks worried who history put brain wired on tap guest what should been there dog ran teeth clattered hopes sing norman flinted hotel lobby plants bottle ice market fresh bones tingle beat heart rapid tug yank anchor it ship splash boom fourth of zulies celebration boom lost loved could gork didn’t want eat sand e mu cme behave bad good ridged cell neutrons absolute hungry today was watch no how to dangle roots fevered hair oil spit cut castles snow men pull tug bam boom careful cause gork jamboree jail regrets remembrance glass broke in streets parades klown man hide to back saddle up boy girl bed TV martinis broad smiles tear rain victim abuser if gork don’t eat galoshes air adapter breath water shark gulf chase drive away lights sky cloud open curtain explode together tweak soft touch calm guitar stringed rapid pulse wrong eat no gork wait sun moon if then they she I could shatter no what now gobble eat bad today if said so watch stop- strings-
When strings of bad luck haunt one’s soul for a good month, all one can do is hope the next day will be better. Call it the blues, a jinx, maybe even karma kicking me in the ass.
Rising above these intense lessons in life can seem impossible at times. Suicide doesn’t become a once and a while thought; it becomes a rabid frothing starving hyena nawing into your everyday thought. The flies encircling like death squad ghosts above of a million wars gone; yet never forgotten.
I’m the kid in the back of class with the coke bottle glasses & the retarded head and mouth all twisted sideways with drool coming out of chapped lips. Walking blues slide thang girl gone and left me aint gonna play no mo. got my whiskey- got my words-
Bin mistreated, don’t mind dieing… slide guitar blues slobber breath harmonica jail time homeless shelter, friend named Eddie who I jammed with on a street corner after soup kitchen-snow cold-


Stuffy Nose

A man walks into a small store. The store sells greeting cards, candles, incense and chocolate. The man walks up to the girl behind the register. His eyes are wide. His hair long. His face unshaved, sweaty, zitty. breath rank of booze, meth eyes.
“How much is that doggy in the window!” he yells at the girl.
“What doggy in the window?” she asks, frightened.
“I’ll say it again, and you better answer me this time,
How much is that doggy in the window!?” he demands,
both hands gripping the counter shaking.
The girl is frightened to death, almost in tears already.
“Sir, there is no doggy in any window, please, can I help you?”
“HELP ME? yes, tell me how much that doggy in the window is! Now bitch!”
“Please sir, just leave, please don’t hurt me.” she says, whimpering a girly cry, reaching for the phone to dial the cops.
The man grabs the phone from her hand, & slams it to the floor.
“How much is that doggy in the window! How much is that doggy in the window!” he demands over and over again.
The girl is curled up in a ball now on the floor weeping in a fit.
He jumps over the counter, pulling out a knife, putting it to her throat.
“How much is that doggy in the window!” he yells, pressing the knife to her throat.
“five dollars and ninety eight cents?” she whimpers.
“Too much! But that’s all I wanted to know!” he removes the knife from her throat and runs out the way he came. She quickly grabs her cell phone dialing 911, crying, and shaking.
The man comes running back in just as the 911 operator answers the girl’s pleas for help.
The man grabs her cell phone from her hand, smashing it to the ground.
“Please god, don’t kill me!” she weeps.
“I got one more question for you, and you better no the answer,
you get three chances bitch!”
“what?” she whimpers.
“MARCO!” he screams.
“Huh?” she cries.
“Wrong answer whore! 2 more chances!. MARCO!”
the girl is in hysterics..
“Please don’t hurt me, I have a son at home, please Mr., please…” she cries.
“Wrong answer bitch! Last chance! MARCO!”
she looks at the mans wild eyes.
Her twitching lips suddenly say..
“Polo?”
“Correct!, goodbye young one.” The man says, zooming off in his pile of crap car, lighting up a cigarette, sneezing to himself, with no one around to bless him.
He turns up the music from his tape deck, and some man from a zeppelin yells…
“Soul of a woman was created below!”
The man suddenly loses control of his speeding car, and flips into a Texas cornfield, the front windshield decapitating his head as the music still rolls. His car taking out a baby calf. A farmer runs out of his shed to see what the hell all the noise is on such a sunny day. “Take him out back and shoot him in the fuking head,” Joe said, blowing smoke out of his chapped over fed monkey lips.
“I can’t just shoot him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to slice him apart first and taste the blood from his heart.”
“Do what you must do psycho boy, just make sure when the sun comes up, he ain’t breathing, or we will both have Neena to deal with.”
Sheila lifted her groggy head from the hard wooden floor, which she had passed out on the night before, lit a cigarette, burped, and headed towards the bathroom.
She pulled her fish catching net out from under some old crumpled up porno magazines, that were laying sprawled on the somewhat grease filled tile floor. She scooped the net into her toilet bowl, picking up zillions of microscopic black fish, opening her window; she began to throw the black mini fish into the hot Texas sun. They flew away with their fly like legs sprouting into someday-barbecued wings.
“Lucky I don’t eat you.” She said to nobody.
She took care of her business while reading a travel brochure.
Her pet haso, named Bloopers, was sniffing along the upper portion of her dripping ceiling. A haso is part bird, part lizard, part cat, and half human, incase you didn’t know. They grow no more then about 40 pounds, 3 feet tall, with a life span of 100 years. They don’t like to speak, but can, if needed.
“Git on down from there Bloopers,” she said, still sitting on the can, while throwing the travel brochure at the purring haso. It hit Bloopers square in the nose, sent him flying into the kitchen hissing, spitting, flying, with its lizard tail flapping behind its furry human angel wings.
She flushed.
Then went into her kitchen and got out some frozen elephant balls, a frying pan, some duck butter lube, and began sizzling up some energy. She had been snorting extra strength salted Motrin cashews most of the night, working on her sculpture. Mormons showed up at her door and told her all about god’s plan.
The drums pounding in it’s backyard sent him flying off his bed in a rage. Chester showed up with a girl who was half dead. Shooting up bliss can cause permanent repercussions like death, botulism, and poison ivy. Cats thought the arm was ham bones in disguise. They purred for the dogs barked like winter’s cold. Days ago small droplets of blood had tinted the snows white to a visible red along the trail of nowhere. Blinking eyeballs sanctioned questions like fortunes want. If roller coasters didn’t spark what biscuit would not eat then rings wrapped in tin foil ovens would drape along the sides of cracked walls and screaming eager voices.
Gary stood near the bus stop all day smoking cigs, staring at all the people who got on the bus at different times.
Gary hadn’t slept in 3 days and needed some fresh air. His lean body slumped up against a back alley liquor store wall. This was one of Gary’s past times, just watching people get on the bus. He did this in order to observe humans.
He didn’t have much contact with humans other then this ritual, and of course when his dealer came over, he would mumble a few words, and throw him some cash. It was a snowy sun lit day somewhere in Lansing Michigan when this all took place.
Gary noticed every formation in the bus stop goer’s facial expressions. He stared at all their body flinches.
Their eyes from a distance. He could tell who and what a person was like with in a matter of staring at them for about 5 minutes.
It was an ability he had.
Nothing real special. Some people can cut wood, others can sell deals and make money, and some can have dreams that come true in induced states.
Some just wait for life to pass before them, having nothing much of anything.

Across the freeway was..

There was this peculiar stale coldness in the night’s stuffy air. I awoke from another nightmare with chapped frozen lips. I packed the last of my belongings into a seventy-five dollar a month storage unit that was hidden just off highway 3’s curving broken road. I didn’t have to pay the fee for storage, because the owner’s son was an old friend that use to buy weed from me back in the day. I hadn’t spoken to anyone in months & was living under a freeway over pass. At night I would curl up in this moldy sleeping bag, sucking on cheap whiskey & hoping no one came along that would ask useless questions- that were already always lurking in the back of my sometimes-schizophrenic head. I had grown weary of trying to be a part of society, so I had this bizarre final idea that I could live alone & wander earth- a smelly gypsy- without a job for the rest of my life. It was a noble plan, an attempt to escape the inner demons that had driven me to this point.
One night I decided on spending the last of my money. I took the D train down to the Southside to meet up with my drug dealer. Chaz. That fuker owed me from last time. He had shorted me. All I want to do is sleep all day and never finish anything I start. I am a loser and dam good at it. what are you? the motherfuker had a look in the back of his skull that attached to his dark eye sockets-like units of never ending colored wires wrapped around inside some heated pool of a plumbers crack blood celled body-
it was a good thing I was a lil buzzed when I first met him-
the fuker was only 33, but, what I couldn’t tell, well, it was a strange thing ,was, I couldn’t decide if he looked more like an acid head 18 year-old, or a 33 year old freak who had seen a lot more than me, I was only 20 when I first met the motherfuker-
sometimes, the way his eyes shot a look, or the way his head flipped around to say something, he could transfer into a 55-year old-, a 70 year old, - even a 12-year old- the man scared me at times- but he was my neighbor- or I should say, my parents neighbor, love thy brother, kill thy neighbor? Ummm.. or something like that- I was still staying in the folks upper middle class luxury hole until I could finish junior college-it was my big step, junior college…and he was my only friend from now, that motherfukin neighbor-
The world began to sicken me more and more. There was no drug or legal medication that could stop these thoughts. It’s like I look at things and see things, like people, and I don’t understand them. I don’t even want to try and understand them cause they make me feel sick. They seem so programmed, so fake.- I know I’m a piece of shit as well, but I feel like I wasn’t meant to fit in any ware with anybody. I enjoy being alone with my cat. I don’t know why I eat animals, cause I have always gotten along better with animals then humans. But I eat them still, like chicken, and cow, and pigs.
Then I feel guilty when I shit them out. I stare at them floating in the toilet bowl and a cry like a little girl.
Last night I either dreamt or lived something in a hotel room. with two maids who wanted to suck my cock after many fixes. It’s the next day. I refuse to open my blinds all day. I’m sitting here in darkness and im alone, and I like it. It’s not easy to be alone after a break up. But now I am happy to say that enough time has passed. I enjoy being alone again most of the time, if not all of the time.
I stare at people when I go outside to get booze and smokes. I stare at them, they stare at me. but when I stare at them I see a machine gun going off, and bullets flying everywhere, and blood and tears, only I wouldn’t have tears, I’d be smiling at their blood.
I’d be licking it up like a half starved dog.

Sometimes I can hear echoes through the walls, which are actually voices in my head. But they sometimes are in the walls. I told my shrink about this after our second visit. he told me my chart was way out of his league. He had this gigantic office with all these beautiful portrait paintings of him and his family all hanging on the walls. As well as his awards and degrees. he also had one of those wandering eyeballs. I don’t think he wanted to council me. he was use to normal college kids with maybe a few easy curable problems. I was out of his league. Psychotic, paranoid, delusional, bi polar, manic, suicidal, lost, according to him of course.
+kill them kill them kill them kill them both.
The voices told me, for real. Die, kill, stop it.

I had been reading a lot about serial killers, all of them, I did my homework.. I told him about my fantasies of killing, of murdering another human being..ofcourse I wouldn’t. well, maybe. He just stared at me with his wandering eyeball and sent me off to a medical doctor who could prescribe some new cure all drug. The wandering eyeball shrink told me to find a psychiatrist cause he was only a psychologist. I asked about a portrait of a young girl on his wall, smiling.
“that’s my daughter” he said, nervously.
“she’s very pretty, I wonder what she would look like gutted” I said to him.
“that’s it! out! Out! Git out of my office! Now!”
he shoved the address of the medical doctor in my hand, and pushed me out his door.
I was just trying to be honest. Isn’t that why people go to shrinks? So u can let go of all thoughts, and tell them how you really feel? I felt sorta bad driving away from his office. But he’s the one who is suppose to be a professional, not me.
tonight I think I lost my mind again
of course others will judge
and laugh and claim how dumb I am
I called my x non-stop on her cell phone
Hitting star 67, in another world..
& they wouldn’t answer-------
33 calls. Even scaring myself..
I kept dialing, drinking, smoking..
U would never get it- u just wouldn’t---

I have options about moving on
but for some reason
I ate a lot of valiums
& drank heavily
snorted nothing u would believe
wish some man
In a black hooded mask
would sneak up behind me
& shoot me in the head sometimes
while my x love tells me,,,
“get lost! get a life, I hate u!
I can’t stand u! don’t ever call me again!
U make me sick! Move from this town!
I never loved your loser ass!
Like I would fukin care!”
She is pure evil…
I decide to mumble..
“but honey, what about, when…”
“don’t call me ever again fucker!” she screams..
“but honey, remember that one time u said…im movin soon
phone slams down..
I call back again and again
Some dude picks up
Tells me
“u fucker, u want some?!”
I do
“want some of what Mr. cool guy?”
I ask
“u best leave kayla alone, or I will beat your head in!”
he screams in this jock boy voice..
I am not well,
3 valiums, 4 vicodins,
sadness like shoulder quivers.
Fifth of whiskey, tears..
Stoned.
I respond..
“is that so Mr. beef cake? Hey buddy, lemmee tell u something,
I was fucking her every night for 8 months, before your 1 week stand., and I work at budget price books, from 230 pm to 1030 pm every night.. u ever want to meet me, or fight, or have a show down.. u know where to find me.. now tell me, where do u work..Tell me, come on, ill meet u write now, knife in hand…! Come on then!”
Hgmmm. Hmmmmm. I dig knife into phone cord, grab map…
The phone goes dead..
Some dudes dick up her un loyal rotten cunt
She loves it, cause her mind has no soul…
As her eyes spin in an evil web of lies
Its not worth it
Nothing ever is forever
And love is the biggest liar of all
Big huge loser boner
U are in a hotel cockroach room
Somewhere in Texas
Smoking crack at 4 am with a prison paroled
Mexican who knows about the other mafia, Spanish mafia-
He’s hitting the crack pipe, & telling me now I am his family,
Great, just swell…
Cause it was my money-
U wonder if it’s a movie, glancing at your watch,
Maybe I could pawn the watch; maybe I could pawn the watch for more….
The lil nephew with gangster tats sits next to u…
Pushing your arm.. saying.. “my hit, my hit” me…. my hit”
You see yourself
Taking a straw and blowing hits into
A Vietnam vets cancer throat hole
pretty much hitting rock bottom
Maybe I can pawn my soul…
“Did you get a hit?” I ask, with lil kid wonder eyeballs?


Whiskey jerk

Everyone is an asshole
When you haven’t slept in 48 hours
Who cares?

I’m the biggest asshole in the world-
& if anyone dares knock on my door
if I ever decide to sleep again
I’ll fuking stab them with my new gerber knife
Some hepatitis c guy gave me
For a dollar crack hit

Soon I may be homeless
& I wish I was joking
I have no one to blame but myself
I hear a friend in my bathroom right now
Puking his guts out
He hasn’t slept in 48, 60? hours either

We haven’t eaten….slim freaks…
4 other people seem to think
they can crash here now as well
What is this? Some sort of flop house?
Give me some fuking money
you dirt ball lazy non-working jerks!

I told everyone I was greedy tonight
After spending my entire pay check
& sharing…

They said I was paranoid
I bet I am at this point
But would they claim to be my friends
If I was homeless?
I always feel like I don’t do enough
Like they are talking about me
When I go to pee in bathroom
Nutty, hearing things?
I miss sleep….

They all said yes, we would still be your friends…
& I called them all liars
Drinking a gallon of whiskey
I shouldn’t drink whiskey
I get mean, I start conflicts.
But if i'm not wasted on something I never talk

Me and my buddy who
Hadn’t slept in 48 hours either
decided to fuk with the sleeping mooches
We grabbed this guy’s blanket off of him, and I kicked him in the ass
He’s some homeless 21-year-old pothead from North Dakota
That
Refuses to let me corrupt him on speed
Good for him… will power!
I yelled!
“Dude, your mom’s outside with the fbi!”
he woke up and looked really scared
& me and my sleepless friend
freaked the fuk out of him…
the poor kid goes…
“What!” all panicking….
My friend goes….
“Get up man, it’s a raid! They found you!”

It was really quite cruel
But I never claimed to be a nice guy
& We both chuckled for 5 minutes
Hearing neighbors start their lawn mowers
At 8 am
“What sort of freak is up at this time, unless they have bin doing drugs?”
I asked my crazy friend.
“most normal people are” he responded.

The kid from North Dakota
Was in a panic, awoken cruelly
Until he figured out it was a joke
“you guys are crazy, don’t you two ever sleep!?”
“No.” I said, walking away laughing
I had been hearing cars
and voices that didn’t exist all day long
& it only got worse with time

then we went and pounded on this other door in my house
after drinking more and smoking more
where this girl was sleeping
who had bin staying with me for a month
& only given me 47 dollars

I was drunk, insane, lack of sleep, drugs….
So was my friend…

“hey Janice!” I yelled
pounding on her/ my door
she wouldn’t answer
I bet she was scared
Fuk it
I got a hammer and hit the door harder
“Janice!” I screamed

I heard a timid female voice finally say…
‘what?”

“The fuking lasagna is ready, are you hungry? Yet?”
I yelled…
We hadn’t made lasagna,
what the fuk was I even saying?

“No, go away” she said..

“We got muffin balls with cheese too!”
I yelled…. “get up!”

There was no response
& my nutty friend came out
of the bathroom with an old man mask
on
holding a knife

I pounded on her/ my door again…
“we got the refrigerator men in the sky with salsa asking about you!
the FBI is outside spying on us with binoculars, pizza time!” I said, not sure why

my masked friend rolled around on the floor laughing

“How much whiskey is left?” I asked him

“plenty” he said, still cracking up…

that poor girl must have bin frightened silly
but fuk it…..my house, my rules….
you don’t pay rent, or bills?
you gotta put up with my craziness
at times
nothing is ever free for me,
why should it be for others?

I started doing my tripped out heart panic thing
Lifting my shirt up and rubbing my belly
Peeking out the front door peep hole
Walking around in circles wondering if I should paint
Or write?
I was a fuk up, but who cares
Maybe I’ll start a homeless drug addict cult of whores

I found my friend in the blue room
Smoking something out of a light bulb with his mask still on
I really wanted to sleep
But we couldn’t stop laughing at something
We weren’t quite sure of
We swigged more whiskey
Did other so called illegal things…
& I was convinced the FBI and CIA
were
about to raid my shithole house
I kept peeking out the curtains
I woke Janice up again
Demanding she go buy us cigarettes
Cause I was to wasted and delusional to drive

She got up and I handed her my keys
“Try and hurry and be careful!” I told her

“Have you guys gone to sleep yet?” she asked..
we just started laughing at her
and I told her
“Hurry!, be careful, they are everywhere!”

she did what I said
like some slave
I was to wasted to care what an asshole I was

“Wanna see me bleed?” I asked my masked amigo
slicing that gerber knife into my wrist

“Ketchup!” he screamed

“wooookeee poooopieoookie !” I screamed back, as blood poured down my arm.

We couldn’t stop laughing at shit that wasn’t really funny

“I’m hungry,” he said

“I’m almost tired and I keep hearing fuking planes and weird voices talking in Swahili, I really think I might be losing my mind” I said.

“good” he laughed.

“fuk you” I said, bashing a hammer into my house walls for no reason laughing non-stop.

“I need a smoke, where is that dumb bitch?” my friend asked.

“what bitch, what smokes, who, when where ?” I asked,
wondering where I was
and how much further the limits could be pushed….
Before they broke down the doors & ruined the party

Janice never came back
& every thing is always my fault
cause i’m an asshole
& they all use me for one reason or another
even if they say i’m paranoid
I should take a nap maybe
After I vomit

This aint TV
This aint mtv
All the media fed fox news lies
& so called reality shows
this is fuking life
trying to survive
on basically minimum wage
& trying to help people
& support habits
of self medication…
while the laughter suddenly stops
& nothing is left to say or do but wait
for more blues
as whiskey bottle is gone
smokes gone
no money left
“hey! Why don’t you smile more!” they all use to say
in preschool and high school and all that crap…

well, check it out, I’m shining my pearly yellows
scared of the sun, wondering if sleep will ever come-

I ask my masked friend to go to his dads & get his shotgun
So he can blow my fuking brains out

“Shut the hell up” my amigo says,
my money smoke blowing from his mouth

“please” I beg…

then we laugh
staring at each other
talking of robbing banks
with dead serious looks
or restaurants late at night
the kid from
North Dakota
suggests
with glowing smart young wise eyes
we sit and listen to his stoned plan
hungry & bored with all the so called rules
& empty fridges…

“get up and eat some lasagna you stupid bitch!”
I yelled, pounding on the door again-
Then the fire department showed up in full gear
Pounding on my front door, asking about a fire in the backyard.
Dammit, my fire pit was smoldering
and some sick yuppie neighbor had
Ratted on me
That early morning chaos
Became more chaotic
As cops pulled up
What a cottin pickin mess!

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