dear scar

hey i'm sittin here lightin up
my native pipe, the one that broke
this weekend and i wanted to say it sux
that you can't do the kindness cuz
i think you need it. why can't she unnerstand
that you have your meds too? oh i know
you're all noble and stuff
but that's gonna build resentment
and then where will you be. i bet s
is just vomitting whenever she peeks in
your windows. eh, prolly not,
cuz after all, it wasn't the j that
was the cause of your betrayal. fuck
it wasn't anything really except your own tail
stinging you into an action
that was inevitable, given your circumstances
your history. surprise!
why did you always wanna marry someone
as fucked up as yourself? perhaps cuz
you knew that might cause you to put on the iron
suit, the power tie, the extra padded
elbow room. give you something to save.
heh, save one from oneself.
doctore, heal the heel in your eye.

hey scar
all i ever wanted to do was have you see
that it was me. but wtf, it's a done deal now.
now i write love poems to a never love
and ignore the one obsessed. well, i guess this
isn't really love a pome. more an exploration
of what my feelings were before the possiblities collapsed.


but what are we? black holes- grab onto the gravitas
and never let go? there's a ring of light
at the event horizon, photons that stretch
being here into being
gone.
rabbit. hole. crawfore in a crawlspace.

i'm sure it's cuz i've become so insulated
that i love you like dickens.

hey scar, it's like i've got a young you.
without the grades. but i don't have him.
in a way yes, in a way no. he's not you
at all. only in astrological sign. i have
no doubt that he is only half
as neurotic, being as he is only half
our age. i look deep into this
due to your influence. let it all hang
let the garbage can lids fly off
and swarms of flies lay maggots on your privacy.
the things you hold for yourself.
inner.
outer.


what is moral. is thievery wrong?
why do we have to go to such lengths
to teach this? see an apple, grab it.
what the myth of the myth fails to distill
is that He said, i own this.
and We said, but why?

it's not about temptation
it's a blueprint for capitalism.

umm, scar, has this been discussed before?

hey, just had the height of hubris
about not lettin my online buds see this
it's all about the future. sum delusional recreation
where in i imagine-just as i did when i was 15
16 17 and couldn't sleep nites, told to turn the stereo off
so dreamed of meeting elton john on a train
in europe and turning him hetero-
that the future has arrived
we are at crux in the shifting verge
the lapiz and the bone
and we find the same story as them
writ on our faraday fields
and we do the same thing.
again. never comes out differently.

how stipend that is. is she pregnant?
that would be
some scar.
your child.

don't you think
that might be the very
final thing? rimbaud
to rimbaud? forget valerey
who ever loved him anyway.











well,
laugh!



to remember that.