masturbate with a knife

there were seven of us living in a single hotel room
shitcake hotel, a dark room with three blankets, piles of drug utensils, and a muted television keeping the room dimly lit, we sat in its glow like slabs of fast food.between our dirty bodies, hidden under various blankets of garbage were pipes filled with weed, hash, and opium.wrapped in wallpaper stood up in the corner of the room and pissed out the cracked window, a few stray beams of sunlight pierce the gossamer smokehouse and hit my eyes, and my brain dries off, i swig some wine and sit up, rubbing my head.next to me, lay my boyfriend hidden under a blanket, my ass was sore from his fingering, a little hole torn in the seat of my pants,i stand up and walk out of the room, through the lobby past the abyss eyed clerk and into the street, counting my dollars.wrapped in wallpaper sits next to my boyfriend.i drag my oversized shoes over sidewalk stones stained with gum, salt, dirt, eyelashes,newspapers, family pictures, diapers with the babies still in them, old men wrapped in newspaper like old fish and laid down next to dumpsters with a can of beer.i make it to the bar, jkfhdsjh and order a double whiskey. i look over my shoulder to see a man with no jawbone cough hack choke on my backskin. i cut it away with a pizza cutter and he falls shaking to the floor. i kneel over him and cut a silver filling out of his tooth with a butterfly knife.
i have my drink walking up the street brwon shutters watering down beat walls raindrop plunk nickel sewege coin a car passes flinging a brick at me hits backhead blood pours stagger onto canpile dropping handfuls of sunflower seeds and coughing up wormy apple blossoms that bubble and melt landed on salty sidewalk. i puke but with a urinal cake wedged into my skull it backwashes down through my body and squirts out my nose, puke that tastes of windex and rust flakes.a man grabs my ear and leads me up the street but i stab him in the asshole with a butterfly knife chew through his achilles tendons push him into a garbage truck passing by full of starving dogs that rend his body with their teeth.limping up the street in a stupor, i stop at a roadside stand speakeasy pick up the two gallons of wine and hide in the back doorway of a spanish restraunt that throws their buckets of leftovers onto a corpse laying next to an immobile drunken homeless man laying behind the structure, suckling on the wine, and watch the face walk past,the man who was born with the bottom of his right hand stuck over his face, covering eyes, nose, and all but the corner of a mouth where he would gasp for air and insert the occasional cigarette or pipe, walking around searching for these things, a few dollars in his pocket. he stops next to me the side of his body facing me and i chug more wine. his body shifts into slump and he ambles by after i nail a mouse to his ankle with a tackhammer and a molar. i finish the wine then use the hammer to pry a living crab out of my throat that had been swimming around in the wine, and had sliced through my vocal chords with its claw, scurrying down the sidewalk with them pinned in its claw, celery stalks wind reaches into my enclave and scoups me onto the street, into the shifty eyed visions of skin seperating gentlemen peering foggy cleansed ammonia eyes out of beer soaked brains down shrieking city corridors dotted with intermittant burning birds coughing tearing feathers and fingers out with coiled cartilage wings to pierce open spilling the ink liquid bijou onto aggravated bleeding dirt warts and corns.i shambled back to the room, dragging the wine, colapse when someone dumps pennies out the window that land on me. making it to the room, i find wrapped in wallpaper standing at the entrance with a bleeding broken bottle, quakish face chin,three different peoples hair tangled around his hand, the broken bottle,the icon.

 

lip

the walls breathe
the television breathe
the white film breathe
empty bottles breathe
pairs of old shoes breathe
my brain breathe
books edge across the floor
and slithers out the mailslot
making it 3 feet down the street
before they slide into the ground
footsteps breathe
sky ball pulsates and moves
nails seperate point upward
float towards surfaces and drill themselves in
razorblades sink slowly in the atmosphere
on tiny colored threads
teeth bang shudder mouths craned open
trees melt fold curling shit on themselves
broken and mangled butterflies with birds
bob incorrectly against the sky
crash into things and convulse in sighing roadwater
a man follows me slowly up the street
moaning indecipherable sounds
into the ear canal pulsate lung
groan strained sides face
my fingers are bent backwards for passing dogs
to chew on my meat pulps
worms hang by wirey pubic hairs slither into my skullcracks
words words words
imagery sarcasm my legs walk tapping up the street
my torso dragging behind
mouth open gums dragging the pavement
wet open eye sock suck kiss the sidewalk
me breathe
you breathe
wind breathe
life breathe
wall breathe
can breathe
want breathe
cold breathe
mind breathe
no breath
the mounds of my skies rise fall and sink
breathing and coughing
gasping for air
before my hand

 

lensebrain

masturbate on a knife
stabbed rain girl
gutters carousing light
bemixed blank water
twisting slfp gro n lig bo t tra il well
roof well roof
stabbing loin girl
with semen coated blatddse
piercing opening dicing
one of her legs in the sink
the other knotted up in the
showerhead pipe
he crawled atop her
fucked the mess he created
left into the rain
slapping the needles
that hovered outside mosquitoe skull
tossing his shoulders
into the sewer
she survived
long enough to
give birth to
a starry eyed
pink child
leftside of the body
inches smaller
than the right
he chews
his skinles blodless
fingers
behind vending machines
laughing congenial men
read their condom wrapper fortunes
beat glass for peanuts
chocolate

 

pearshapes

something that washes it away
silences the sounds
the screams, the grinding, the high pitched machines
the political poets
priests whipping out their derisions against bloody walls
cars laughter
that rinses the pain off the body
shuts out their shrieks
numbs my limbs and torso
to the blows raining down
on my welted and burnt skin
fires their gawking sarcasm and playful jokes
into churning grey
their bodies beat against wooden aluminum walls
clatter and strike
tongue from mouths crawl from lips and through wallcracks parting asscracks and
poking their way in for a taste
nostrils and tastebuds on a steal tipped tongue
asleep in a buzzsaw
your eyes and your mind manufacture lies
something to wash subtly
between the rocks
to clean the dirt off the garbage
droplets fall
in between my ears
collect in blood beneath my face
i havent been so dead in years
i have already left
i walk on no grounds
my mouth hanging tiredly ajar
the sun arrests me with its golden lights
shaking me in the grass
away drunk plummeting
slowly upwards
through their emotional needlepoint russian roulette mockery games
standing their ground on the sidewalk
cracking eachothers skulls open
with small stones clock radios
my teeth reach out of my lips
to gnaw on the lightbulb
flickering from an aperture
in my ceiling
sitting reading laughing
the forehead melts into the lap
sitting alone
faces pointed out windows
bellowing raucous laughters
down
cotton has filled the room
and my fingers are swollen
into pear shapes

 

gudterwug

artificial light
stale television tongues slurping on my braincunt
voices foot tap step is ing voice
a young annoying man appear drove my slapping myseo lf head
i bought a bottle of wine and slink down the railraod pass a highway
lay on a hill to drink a wihile with no thoughts in working in my head to create thoughts i wouldnt understand
up
i cover my face in dirt drool and sob untill its mud then i use it ass a toothespaste with my golden inxdeds finger with a fbrown nail
three girls walk passt me, dont notice me
i jump up they scream and run down the street i chasre them a little ways
hidden behind immoral words a tuxedo hangs from a coasfhtanger a tree i set fire too and a bear tackles me wrenches my wine bottle away and runs between rusty buildings, garbage piles, tree clumps, dead horses and cows still on their feet,
into a bold patch of forest. i grimmaece and follow with a knife
he sits on a stone drinking it
it a a man sin bear a it is a man in a bear suit
with skittle eyes
pebble teeth
i draw my small razor blade adn dive on top of him knocking him into a shallow ricver he strikes me, knocking me out cold, drinks the wine, smashes the bottle over my face, blood darkness trickles into my eyes
i come too the thenstx nomronsing to see written on a wall
GUDTERWUG
in red crayon
i piss on the wall
that night i drink a bottle of wine and sink into his patch of woods with a human spine, he huddles over the river
i dive out of the tree and force the spine into his esophagues
he writhes and shivers in the dirt, and i cross out his name on the wall with
one of his bloody breasts, sliced from his body with a handful of thorns

 

statement

keep away from me
i dont want to hear your pretty flowers
i dont want to know your secrets
get your competitive pen away from me
i dont write for you
or for anyone
but myself and the ones i think i love
and the ones ive hurt in the past
your art is flowers
and you are a flower amoung many
destined to be plucked by a pretty little girl
and kept in rot on a bedside
your art
and yourself
are only shadows of your lusts and jealousies
so keep it the fuck to yourself
keep away from me, in your halloween costume soul
i want to maim you
your hair grows out of your face
while i chew your prosthetic lips
save it for congenial teachers and parental figures
leaning and bobbing before a chalkboard
they will use your beautiful artwork
to wipe their dripping orafaces
miserable in their rooms lives
why bother if you cant reach those dead souls
that wait with their walls for something
anything at all
you will disappear
before my secreting eyes and black teeth
gnawing some sun-bleached soup bone
behind your house
as you rock and dance
inventing daytime television poetry
and cleaning your carpet for the 1000 time
in your kingdom of lies and blank stares
nothing here for you
nothing at all
are you dying?
is each word you speak a mockery that you will soon be dead?
remember the stench of the earth thawing in spring
as you walk in your false youth
dreaming about balloons, clowns, and bards
suck down this smoke
drink the water that flows from shattered limbs
you are nothing
but a compilation of meat
leering at the sun
hopeful of something

 

american television

bukowski is dead
he liked beer
his carved his name
in a pile of my shit

i am a pile of
my shit laughing
teenage girls
tell me i am a horny
psychotic rapist faggot

poets tell me i am
nothing special or
a fucking genius or
pass the brew or
miles dock head liar car pass
shit that pissglove door lo ck
ed bradbury and EE cummings
swallows my shit wrapped
whole toilet paper is
anything you can fit in your ass

the masturbating muse meat
stoned girls tipsy insanity
why did you come back here

toolshed poetry faggot
father fucked boypoet stereotype

they will be hungry
you will shit in my boot waffle
and i aint even racist
get me a gun theres
a bird on me

lovers in cars chase
CD cases down the road
and worship the antichrist
rich living in los angeles

relax child you are hated
but safe here
maybe ill make enough money
to do so seeing as how useless
they tell me i am
i should have been miscarried
i am a heroin overdose gone wrong
i am tired of holding
this pen i need psychosis

poetry is chainsmoking
without black lungs

set me afire kill me suck on my liver
bury me alive jack off on my face 10$
the famouse kids have enough dope untill next
year when their forgotten even the poets

all the matters is your bloated head
asleep roaring in a bowl
of soup GET A LIFE GET YOUR LIFE GET A LIFE
THANK YOU FOR THE ASSFULL but i have
another oral surgery at 1am

ever had an orgasm while
riding a ten speed cymbal queue

bitches brew is over

how far will his psychotic
ass make it before his brain
explodes the human mind is a
salt lick for opression

i think this is the end
i have nothing to add
its all over this poem
your stroll down life street
over,
all over

because your god of course
sucking his own cock in a kitchen
how can things improve at all

american television

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