-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,