swings low the
high sensation seeking human
doesn't do well in group therapy
and always is the bar raised
in the comfort of your own grid
the thrill could be gone
so purchase us a pair of socks
personally
I've overextended my reach and evolved a bit more
don't you know we are bettering as a collective whole
shout it to the streets like storefront graffiti
get all in their faces

to shop with peers is to join in holy communion
to break bread and spill poison
and leave it to the janitors
with eroded relatives
and bent skeletons
comfort loves a dirty body
and a dirty body includes an organized wallet
so dirty is gas is what I'm trying to say
the dirtiest of jokes
laughing matter muffled with masking tape or just
chopped limbs, the storm before the psalm
gas: the only precursor to bombs
dropped in toilets
iceberg tip for a deep sewage system
ponder all the wastes of life that you know
if you think of conservative reform  
you are not alone
but if you did not think of anything
you are also not alone because
nothing comes to mind when I'm in the comfort of my own home
stop knocking on my door..nobody's home
do you want to do this the easy way or are you a hard target fighting the dumb fight?
are you willing to take a ticket and live on the edge?
can you drink sludge and mouth watermelon?
i can formulate questions and still drop out of the school
that taught me that on the flat as credit card earth
this is a forced commune and my wrists are slit communists
we all hold hands
we staunch each others beautiful blood flow's birth right
but you'd let go eventually if you were me
and id let that blood dry if i were you

-student years

go on for more


until you're overboard

fill up your cups

and chug

don't you say

it's who you are



sit and detached

lay your old self

on your mat of goodwill

with the cat you got

out of want

but now so desperately need



out of my out of body experience

to see whats going on

it's so early in the morning

and it's so early in my life

-fugitives can be friends too

working on greasing the gears of the carousel
it'll take a barrel of oil, i'm sure
to make it
to parasail through your mind

here's a coffin for your efforts
perfectly aligned
put to use alright
vandalism alive

morality is masturbation
philosophy driven
i try
and yet i am still drivel
i realize

dismantled machinery of my head
reprogram
and cram what i can
but it is hard when you're on the lam
i want to communicate to the world

that fugitives can be friends too

-pray to pan

knotted string the bridge between wrist


and the happiness that are

upturned slits

but bobbing portrusion

cost a dollar

then and now



the buildings seemed bigger



smoggy ash kisses

all smoke and mirror

from the men with the dirty hands

and the all knowing wink

i can see their hooves



shrubs line the side

and i recognize

what forced green is




so feeling boiled over

and feeling comes through head

through soul, through friend

through clock

time takes its toll

abrupt stop

where was i again?

-i'm practicing my autographs so I can sign my life away with style.

i'm practicing my autographs so I can sign my life away with style

to the cliqued-up mouse clickers, to hell with MLA format
i'm giving the game away
you are now entering the danger zone of memory
where we do the grass skirt dance, and the animal yells
and frail elders nod in time
 i am in the street and the air is hard, times are hard, sleep is hard to come by
this is the danger zone of the now
i am the dream hoarder, that being said, no i can't spare a goddamn quarter
i'll eventually sign my life away, but not to operate a goddamn motor
 when im older, and lose all of your numbers, and rot out my teeth
and i'm not able to get a boner
that's when ill remember, i was born on the 19th of september
under the same sky that provides the backdrop for wherever we go for the rest of our lives
i'll still be the same child burning an ant
condition:megalomaniac

-pistols on my hip, bullets in the brain

Stab and stubborn my way out of
this city for an education
hard-headed, I know
Ow! (I'm hurting people
as I speak)

I haven't been me since
we delved into each others' pictures books
(being a teacher blows man!) I don't want them to see
themselves in me, being perverted

red correction ink
drenched
all over
my notebook, crimson
I made so many errors
"fuck education"

I know: I'll spend my day
talking with weather-worn-street-men
city-slickers like them, I hope they make
an outlaw of me
so that one day I can Billy The Kid myself
a nice job 

-the ugly butterfly that learned to love itself

Young as I wish to be, aging as I am
I say yes to weaving trails with my hands
I say yes to kite flying, the spirit of aviation
is in me too

I am petrified
you say it too
"I hope we don't turn into money-people".

never laying lame
learning to use the loo
a lopsided smile showed where
my teeth weren't

holding her hand has calloused my fingers
now they do not cross
of their own will

warm souls, warm shoes
even have a mother that makes beef stew
I go to school and everything is alright
I learn to make paper planes, I learn to cuss up a storm,

-yesterday's walk

I lay prostrate in the dust and the glamor
waiting for rapture
in the botany where
a leaf disturbed,
draped itself across
cold wet shoulders, sticky ones at that
reminded me about early morning cocaine mindsets
can't escape the rawness of it all, at all
I'd much rather dig a hole and talk about
how I'd let that blood dry if I were you
and how all the lights, I'd sleep with the lights on
and how the light is you, and
fluorescent smile calm
me down,
you didn't know that-

-on a bright warm day I

on spring days I disintegrate
all of the poignancy that I cannot bear to hold
memories of, memories from
games consummated, accelerating towards
the conclusion days of my childhood
crooking my head downwards and spin and spin and spin and spin and run clumsily
drop the bat
and spin
with all my joy as fast as
I can
clumsily running to god knows where
I don't know, I did care
it had to suffice

-can't you just sit a while? and try your hardest to smile.

Nostalgia is about the fleeting moments in our life. A throwback to when times were easier, play was innocent; when light actually illuminated all of the room. We hold these memories in high regard, we try our hardest to not let those moments slip away. Eventually, all that is left is a warm distant haze that leaves you wondering if it all really happened. It's like how Haruki Murakami wrote, ""Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart." I can't escape the feeling that up until the present moment, everything that's transpired over the course of many years occured while I was in a stupor. Even the present moment is deceiving. The present moment offers feelings of clarity that are dulled the very next moment. The next day it is realized that you weren't very much lucid at all in being, that in fact you are very much blinded by prejudices and emotion. The feeling of not ever being fully conscious while living in the moment accompanies me on a daily basis. Monks have long understood that meditating allows them to reduce the toll that time takes on humans. I yearn to be lucid as they are, to see things as they really happened. The past belongs in the past, it would be wrong to wish for it to be any other way. Yet I wonder, is there any way I can bring the past with me and embody it instead of looking wistfully back at it? I don't want to spend life longing for my childhood. I want to be that child, scampering through the bushes, trying desperately to fly my pale-yellow cheap paper kite, bubbling with vitality. I want to be that child at eighty. Feeling nostalgic?

-we ride the short bus to oblivion.

You are all at fault. Every single last one of you. Here I am writing a lettter to the past generation, but so what? What they did was unforgivable, a mockery of the human spirit. They made us ashamed to be who we are; seeking truth became an ostracisable offense. At the moment of existence one enters an agreement with God, Mother Nature, Science; what have you. Inevitably, we renege on this contract, but theres always Hell to pay. We are left in the dark, fumbling, trying to connect hands. We are left collecting flowers in a graveyard. We are left. Innocently enough, we believed that we were bettering as a collective whole. We weren't bettering. Inconceivable, tell it to the streets that we were bettering as a human race. You'd get laughed at right in your face. No, what we were doing was evolving. I can't wait until we reach the pinnacle of evolution. From there it's all downhill, tumbling, bumbling idiots.

nx slxxp

For too long now have I been sleeping my life away. A warm lethargy has taken hold of all areas of my waking life. Apathetic indifference stole its way into my demeanor. I've traded in the hours of sunlight for the obscure hours of night for months on end. Daily schooling that is forced upon me leaves me too tired to learn what I need to learn, to tired to understand what I need to make me happy. Everybody is subject to this torment. Everybody I know is confused. The way a person reacts to this setup is sometimes different; I've seen no good come of this defense mechanism. Indifference is a common reaction. The world goes on, but I come home, and go to sleep. Forget about what I could be experiencing outside, I can fast forward to the night, where not a soul is stirring and thinking is possible in absentia of stimuli. That is what soothes and regenerates the soul. A steady city clamor lays in unhealthy contrast. To be in existence, is to be unhealthy no matter which way you put it. Self preservation is impossible  no doubt, so we need to make the most out of each conscious moment. Lethargy smothers motivation and drive and fatally lessens the person who we are meant to be. Here I am offered the only feasible option: keep those eyes open, take all of it in, don't let any of it out.

-okay, maybe not so dwindling.

-dwindling storm.

-stars are only in the sky, so nothing gets to my head.

by the time I fall off, I'll probably be dead.

-hey diamond-head! you are me!

-i'm bored of karma!

"Closing your eyes isn't going to change anything. Nothing's going to disappear just because you can't see what's going on. In fact, things will be even worse the next time you open your eyes. That's the kind of world we live in."

-buzzband madness.

Record Store Logo.

-crouch in the snow.

-low hanging clouds dispersed at an even rate.

It's not that I wanna be somewhere else
I don't wanna be here by myself

That's not myself
That's just my cell
I don't know if you could tell
but I don't need help
I don't know if you noticed
but I have been smokin'
my arm might be broken
I'm so sick of jokin'
I'm sick of your talkin'
Your words have no meaning
I don't like your body
I don't think you should feed it
Don't think that you want it
Or like it, or need it
So why do you keep it
if you're free to leave it?