i've gained 15 pounds.
i thought love
is supposed to be good
for you. why then the fat?

oh fine i exist
in a shell which has survival
as its escargot store
the fat for lean
times still a crab
could come along any minute
and suck me out
of here.

blakmail. could it exist if we had
no secrets? could we have not secrets?
i watch your eyes for clues of betarrring, a betrayal
which goes like this:

The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end.--Disraeli
if you say it
enough times over and over
it begins to tarnish become empty
genuine, genuine genuinegenuinegenuinegenuinegenuine genuine i didn not
use the the cut and paste feature. that would be pointless












&



been spending most our lives
livin a pasttime paradise

the spillage from the factory had radon
irridium and boron. einstenian made a brief
appearance and was never heard from again.
i don't like american idol, the sound of air
conditioners or my third toe. i dn't like
the auto save feature on word. i d like
the cutting room floor for all its latent
possiblity resemblance to graveyard
or the bones or gramma trauma. tyup another
masochist, i'm coming with out a collar.
i don't lie the way the dead do, performing
incorporeal miracles, i like the don'ts escape
from uzbekistan. i like to write code. 10001 1010 0001010111
bool is wide name for a logic, almost better
than left brain right brain. always with the dichotomies
as if two side handles it all. don't forget the points
which exist in the stars you must beat into submission
in your retinas. the recievership of new ows napped
to the outbout reservior. the outposts at the end of carreer
carreering to the final point of what, what. ?. synonym of nothing
for something. i'd like to smoke because i like it. or quit because i don't
this waffling for principle shall be my chimney in dachau
victime of the indliess movienmt of sky
on the crackls of colouds. i begn to taller
the fading moustrap. my curtains hang
in shreds whole at the verttice
practice is how you get to carnagie hall so i shall
proaci not thinking. not thinking automatic let the body tkae over let the wordless controll be the sleep your vmissing
and the coughs si spittle on ok you can reaa













there is you r sad flat waif feinded
for the let go. the etching of desire.
i keep visithign that well till suck it dry too
i dont like the quote autosve
it makdes my mistkaes hesiste i can t view them
in real time.
but hte autowriting wasn't as bad as i freared.
my body knmows what to do, let it og
go go go
have another hit










truth is what me make it. each epiphany the onlset of another petal
wich blooms fades shirvels
corpes of rose left on the cedar chest.
why do you get to know what's on im my head
when what's oiin yours is never revealed? fear of misunderstaning?
oh what can the void care? what understadig there is is
and not is. banks and rivers. the shoal of fish
on the brakending water. the smell of
weed risish and stiflings
the inside of water.










* no i don't ike the autosave fearture. gblobber
are you reading this? ti makes my mistakes
harder to filter out. they get comporesed
and revealed too late i have moved on on onononononooj




there is moon in someone's sky
you have to learn to hesitate on the very edge
of the razor blade, balanced on yr tips
letting it begin to slice the incisores
from the widsom space. fulcrum. hate the sound
of my ac hate the smile of my room it's all
so stifling and sufi driven. camel on a water strike
where do the letters go while they're wating to appear. this is wholly
unsatisfactory. it makes me think too much oh blog
why did you hanged changed and not become
what your innards said to be. i have dead rechargables
and the fountain of the day to remember
but i can't get past this empy that scrolls demented
down the page. poetry. the comfort of the ixle exile
the lst post of the damned.