“sweet nothings”

just cuz
u ain’t nothin but squiggly
magnetized
but
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
seriously
look past the rivers
for
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
chapped
lips

"TITLE"

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
again

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
whip
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
remember
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

"STUCK"

i hate when u go missing
& only leave me this damn car
with the eye of the ghost
dangling from the rear view mirror
and
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

“swisher”

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

sorry

but

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

hey
of on
but
isn’t

doorknob turn

your glasses shining
your fingers tweeting
don’t

himanshu
bundle
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!

Brian Eno & David Byrne "Strange Overtones"

“waitin 4 u in the”

green lobby.

outside the weather seems
confused &
traffic
a murderous trap
i hope u didn’t get into an accident
you’re always so tragically
lit
okay
going in alone

sitting at the bar are a couple of tv men
plotting culpas

i get on a bar-stool like
a bad ass hot line
bag full of stolen time

imma order a
‘hexameter in your heater’
styler cryer! why u so mama-mia

mea late?

“i think you look like an owl in those particular glasses”

but you’re cute when you aren’t crying &
you have a great voice & i feel your sad lines
cuz i was once like you
so ..

what
if you die
folding your molding elegy

Quietly

into
circles
around some shit-head’s bed and/or bar

you in a bad suit
you
if augur were a color

cadence is so your forehead

“DEAR DAUGHTER”

I guess we’ll winter the backyard recipes.

Since when does the idea of calling home “fill you with creepy
feelings, like centipedes”?
Passing hell because somewhere coats are on sale.
Bees are the sun, Lion Girl. They know suffering.
You could check on the dogs, you know; those old comedies

of misdirection.
I moved my desk into the summer wardrobe,
the one with the haunted wi-fi.
Someone tried to fax
hair to Dad. We’ve strung the house
with network points. Don’t trip.

“because u miss me”

in black
with u
@ A party

i exist &

shining ghostly in that movie ,
your dead flowers ,
the hook of away

“a way” ?

no -
“away” .

we played dominoes
like shapes in a poem
u drew the pentagram on my car
off key

“sleeping beauty wakes and says”

my arms are just arms
the mammoths draw

hey baby :
telecommunication
love-husk

ghost texting
again?

Fat White Family- Complete set / SXSW Hotel Vegas 2014

“notes on why leaves must have their comeback”

the oceans leap
from hot to naked
divinity stays at the lake

i so
went clean

when u gonna leave
the burning lie
the bong drinking smokers
a death poem for cutie

something is linking your mind
2 my atlas
u can be: the sunset
on tourism
on vast pale panels
the flaring care curve
of amerikan thighs

hold october
with a credit card
&
act out
the entire shogun haircut
{mountain based with clean bangs}
livetweet a razor for true blood
spelled-out as i c e

“Beyond The Wall Of Sleep”

all heads:
water

visible
& sexy

a shoe in each hand
sponsored


politics in 72
lick dick

angela 4 president


modern art
pee
so
important
it’s kept in a cup

i dreamed
a nameless junkie was after me
i was all
katy western wear
with lasso hands & cinnamon hair

u where
in el nasty club
a paper doll made simple-
no need for eyes

first batch of pics from washington DC

http://bookofnina.tumblr.com/post/129041728664/tried-feeling-alive-this-weekend-by-breaking-out

"WE'RE"

turning over
another sharp wing
only to read ,
‘is the dead swing happy?’

we sit
inside
a bird’s tear

snap open
tricks of light

fall
in love

with salt


-

u can’t see me now
my hips are failing
and the oracles see
tips of heaven being gathered
just for angels to
grenade

-

this is so mixed up
like
drunk dials
are the guts
on your lawn

-

doused and devoted in the nights of nod
river boy
u dropped your snuff bullet in the parking garage


-

our private joke is

'pray to poseidon from the glory couch’



listen
soft chorus sounds

then
miles of highway

to
a party in bloom
you try to
drag out the first move
so that it is
permanently spooky

concrete in the periphery and then
these kids fire-escape someone
as

violent
ribbons

&

the whole feeling
an oil spill in the grid

it
benadryls us

&
i trace your smile ;
it’s like a constellation

" "

augmented reality:
all signs stuck to velcro & we’re listening to autopsy -
“dark like a subreddit” / all exits locked.
we call in transfusions. to the blood park.
wake up at a funeral.
your T-shirt says, GO ENTROPY!
blood vessels and stars leak into our car-jack video.
we steal light from alien trees, walk into vine/wine hour.
what the hell is a vine, anyway? the valve of a door?
radiation. the universe faking its own story.
reincarnation makes me tired. the bartender
is blowing up twitter with his cock tail science.
here’s to
short conversations @ high tables,
bruises identified on a bar stool, and
and seeing beneath the crowd.

“i’m dressed as victim chic, playing vision quest by myself in the dead arcade of the dead mall.”

waiting on u, with my heroin affliction. are we in a movie? brown dogs run
unleashed thru the theater. i have med checks in my pockets, i don’t know
what for. a resurrection failed. was i suppose to meet u here,
or at my apartment? i want to walk home but i can’t google it. i want to
go home and change into an angel so you can murder me with just
your mouth. like out in some field Cain is listening to no one. the girl that
lives in the apartment next to me, has two kittens named Risperdal & Ritalin.
our roof-top garden smells like panama and tonite is so temporary.
i dare u to sleep here and play quest in my mouth. let’s go out.

the beautiful streets
look
like mirrors.

"soon enough the sun will rise"

Dreaming in
the language of your
appearance & the lack of. I’m trying to forgive
and look a little convinced. You remind me again to write the
letter,
Boo!
I do, and I want to join your club
so I walk with you while you try to drink
and swim.
Ah, the talons of summer, scratching everyone’s skin.
Ages & real names are making a come back. I always enter
what hasn’t happened yet.
Just look at them. Nothing fits anymore.
And those who are dead, grow. Is it easy to quit a job
and sunlight?
Is this broken-window talk?
There is a sad loneliness in hotels. Do U feel it too?
Here, I packed this Frankenstein tote with lots of moisturizer
& vitamin D.