screaming at low volumes
jgtaylor The pope is dead.dot.damn.dot.dead.dot.dead holy.dot.dead. well fed pigs at a trough, sleeping jerks dream cream colored screams. dot.dead. … dot . dead. not dead not dead not dead no offense no defense, no slips to trip undressing in pleasing essence of lives in doubt, in grace periods between payments for pavements of ripped up screaming … Read morethe pope is dead
it is your formLying asleep (on my pillow),that pulls my soulfrom my heart.it is your breathHeard faintly (over my rushing blood),that fills my heartwith your soul.it is your eyesSeeing things (i cannot)that beckons my approachto your lips.i am isolated in your kiss,frozen in the exploration lenguaof all the words that are not – because to start … Read moreThe Gift
Good christ. I saw a man from Iraq. Told me to call him Sarge. Get me in free. After I mentioned I had a protester in my apt. for over 2 months. love. for food and drink, we are all one. kill me kill he kill we, and we are sill one. Drives steaks through … Read moreUntitled #49
I have stolen myselffrom TV DinnersDreaming of Jeanieon velvet coucheswhere rooms force exclusionand small childrenare too cruel -I will strike withmy stolen teeth from Omahaand all it’s wild kingdomsagainst those that wouldhave me locked in basementswaiting for punishmentsthat already were.With spotlessly cleansed mouthI mouth these words…I am more than your self-loathing,more than your love, I … Read moreUntitled #21
There are no numbers anymore Not on my news – where plastic teeth leer into my soul; waiting dogs for a scrap of fear to feast greedy grubby gruesome on.
I have made love to you on these moon lit nights so much that your breasts have painted themselves on my eyes so that I am more grateful now when the sun and moon have shut their own door to consummate their love leaving us in darkness so deep that I now am learning your … Read moreWithout Eyes
drop a dollar on the bar tonight for me tomorrow we die. Funeral pyre of drinks gone to far tomorrow we fly. Empty nest syndrome she worries about her heart tomorrow black eyes.
Sad little girl, where has your mother gone? Grocery shopping for a party, you say? Well, not to worry, she’ll be back for you. A party to celebrate you’re gone, you say? Oh.
Cry little boy.It’s just how life is.Doesn’t get much better,you just get used to it.Fat people are made fun of,you become a joke.Insecurities are pushed on you,and you’ll eventually give in.
I want to masturbateinto a frenzy of dirtrising out of the plains –the guts of my soul.I want to fill the spacesbetween the lands withmy seed, forever rollingand forever loving.I want to tie my tonguein knots of grape vinesheld by string elicitedby my children’s fingers,frail in their 18 hour joybehind the man’s spinning wheel.I want … Read moreUntitled #73