Mar 10, 2016

Me, reading someone else's poem:

Me (Tasha Klein) reading Justin Ryan Fyfe’s poem, “1991″

wipe the snack salt from my fingers
to the sheets of my bed
u message me 100 years from now
and i crumble
into dust
like a 100 year old
sandstone bunny
i do lower than whispers
how i can forget and want w/e is there
i build a home out of blocks of ice
this is the foyer
where i keep the maps that belonged
to my now dead grandfather
i want kindness like air
my mind says alone 4:20 am
if i texted you now i think you
would be awake
a scene where the toaster pops
even tho we never saw
it loaded
im eating cashew pieces
not even whole or halved
the way you create a new thing
inside of the thing you meant to create
a tortoise on its back in the desert
or w/e
like ive said that b4
our past fucks us up but there you are
lingering like a lilly pad
floating on my back in my grandparents pool
near the lizards whos tails
grew back
after you rip them off
w yr small child hands

“sweet nothings”

just cuz
u ain’t nothin but squiggly
the chili was good
so was the cake gun
haha dirty pun
okay this is a poem crash
i have a toothache but am still
going in to work
i’ll be thinking about u
consuming all that pretend sadness
i’m wise to you now
you’re just a baby playr badass

"bad romance by lady gaga (or the disco-stick song)"

so u took a sip from the devil’s cup?
probably more than one sip
knowing u
a god for a few
just reach in the mirror
and pull out some new lungs
i know you can read my poker face
& that’s a damn muddy shame
on camera all my spells look the same
but back to you, yeah i just read the other day
you’re not even suppose to wash jeans
look past the rivers
the ghosts wearing masks and

measuring cups

“no lentil soup for you, davy crockett”

my computer automatically nets the tweets u delete
and i tap this virus like love
sweaty matters:
u want to suck that cross-eyed
hatchet-banged bunny tit
but u cain’t
so here
chew on some meatloaf
and then we’ll
trim your mustache
so i can see / taste those


in my mind i am already putting up art in our groovy house
pic number 1: us kissing on a beach of black sand

all lyrics say the obvious
like: snow boy chin spoon
but the www be breaking your head
i’m thinking he looks drunk sitting at that schematics machine
and all that had been purring is fried

that would be a problem
we could smoke weed but never drink

but back to decorating
back to the flower bucket filled with ghost
back to the wall were we would grow a misty pavement of
i’m sorry and goodnites and dancing i-luv-yous
forgetting to brush our teeth
my lazy baby python
i’ll slather my Bath&BodyWorks all over you
and put your hair in a pony-tail
your lips
with kisses

found poem

I love when you stop talking to me

And I hope your answers

“ hands u a new S T Y P T I C P E N C I L”

i don’t have a cell phone
i only have ulcers and high high high
blood pressure

oh, the haha of dancing thru infinity this fuckin sober
would be alright
if it were in THE fka body
and the wind from a nameless painting
were to sculptor me a new jawline
u could snip off jowls with singing blades

watch out
i bite
plateau of cat breath
definitely lips etc.
if i still have teeth
on the roof at midnight
so come on
stunt man
your tears hang
from my fingers
like sleep

what do you do when your years are up
i keep running down diamond lanes
in dirty socks & glass lipstick
headin to Wyoming
i guess


i hate when u go missing
& only leave me this damn car
with the eye of the ghost
dangling from the rear view mirror
i stick 2
the plastic
seat cover
all gentrified (lol)
u know
i’m so over the bf drown (he was a cry-baby)
i’m historically happy now
even though i know
blue skies have symptoms
& those wingless angels want to run our names
into a snow bank but wtf
come back out
we’ll steal another car - eat cake -
put a mini Minotaur on the dash


(let’s talk about when u made out with that guy cuz u were drunk)
right on



ugh to the 3 ∞
u smoke hold me beneath
i smoke∞ diamonds in the shower
to reflect of course
2:40 friendships
i’m creamy bad
some people
do funny tweets i do naked

r u gonna bluffa’ me? over da music?
i felt the dead of the cold door
& then our love was PM dust

“look at that apt selfie - u spread all asias with a fat cat”

of on

doorknob turn

your glasses shining
your fingers tweeting

in store clothes
i steal air-blankets

‘Scentless Apprentice’
plays on my laptop
it is extreme eyes and
mirror movement
and i keep guzzling water and sucking winter-mints

“re: @the beginning eat the tail”

because, i am watching, “the big white” and looked up the soundtrack to see who did the song, “Trouble With Dreams“.. turns out it was
Written by Mark Everett (as Mark Oliver Everett)
Performed by The Eels (as Eels)
Courtesy of Vagrant Records

and guess who Mark’s father is? .. Son of physicist Hugh Everett III, who came up with the ‘Many Worlds’ theory of parallel universes!