And the wine is in my heart
and there is a stone in my chest
that looks like bone
and you
are curled up
in my pocket
like a dollar.
Skull and dross
bones burnished
blank from the sun.
A pirates lair.
Passive.
Winter.
Cold.
The radiator gurgles and hisses.
Are you my girlfriend?
Am I your boyfriend?
No.
My pirate fucked your pirate!
It sure did.
How do you feel? Id feel a lot better if youd kissed me.
When its happening its beautiful, the snow without contractions. It is. White and such as it is I see no contradictions. It is as illusive as your affections yet see how it stifles the earth.
Look you now. Saw you my love?
is grammatically correct. Even if you had seen my love which is physically impossible, metaphysically dross.
Drivel.
There are things I want to tell you.
If you were here, the things I could do to you.
One cannot see an emotion. One cannot feel an emotion the way one can feel another human or A knife.
For one Id tell you to come back to bed.
The snow.
Its cold outside, lets snuggle.
Fag.
Heavy out back, fat and fast, flaking to the ground but by the stove where the heat wafts up it sort of drifts and floats in the morning half-light of 7:00 am.
Part the pink waves with my tongue.
She couldnt possibly be running in this. Youll catch a cold. Freeze that wonderful ass off.
Wonder if she talks about me.
Id be a whole lot better if youd kissed me.
Id have to bring her a hot cozy.
You know, I dont think it would matter if I were the second coming.
In a perfect world she wouldnt have gotten out of bed in the first place. Best birthday present ever.
If I ran into burning buildings for a living If I saved a small child each day in your name Indeed, I dont think it would matter if I were the highest paid fucking Yankee in the history of baseball: It still wouldnt matter; it wouldnt impress you in the least. You are the most recalcitrant and impervious woman I have ever met. In fact, if I werent in total denial, Id swear Id fallen in love with a lesbian. I bet that if I dropped dead right here right now while talking to you, you probably wouldnt even notice. And God do love your tits!
No two snowflakes are alike. Thats what they say, but how do they know?
Arrogant bastards! Im telling ya: not to be trusted.
How do you prove something like that?
You might as well say God lives in my closet.
If I did this for you I would do it out of love. Not because I want to but because I am in love with you.
And I would grow resentful because I am unrequited in every way.
Moss. Thats what resentment is, moss, or better yet a fungus that lives off the air; it accumulates like snowfall. Im thinking of the gray-green king, the kind that you see on boulders all flaky and ancient looking. At any moment you expect a hobbit to come running out from behind a tree.
God lives in my closet.
Yesterday I wanted to grab your head and force my love into your mouth. I wanted to swallow you whole the way you have consumed my entire being.
It is. To be or not to be is, is a weak verb. It is a weak verb to be a being. Even in its entirety. In its wholeness, happening.
Its true Im tit man.
Moses shat in my bathroom.
People speak of things happening to them and it pisses me off. I mean, what ever happens to me? Thats what I wanna know! Well Ill tell ya: NOTHING! Nothing happens to me. Or for me. For fucksake its my day off and Ive been up since 6:00 am!
What is all this shit about falling in love, anyway? Oh I fell. Did ya now? What? Did ya trip over a pocket of air?
I wanna be a hero God damn it!
Theres nothing more nauseating than a happy couple. Its truly revolting.
It was love at first sight. Thats my favorite. What a whopper of a cunt that one is. We just knew we were made for each other.
If only I had a gun!
Id open the closet and unload.
Theres something about falling in love that implies: Victim.
Theres nothing attractive about a victim.
Unless of course, youre a perpetrating, sadistic fuck.
Look at that doting piece of shit. Thats what theyll say followed by someone kick him.
My sisters ex husband
cant get no lovin,
walks around sad-faced and hurt.
But not me baby,
Ive got you to save me.
Youre so bad. Best thing I ever had
She loves Tom Petty, Baseball, Greek mythology, a cat named Toe, and Bourbon among other things but nothing more than the New York Yankees.
I always imagined that Moses might be shorter. Even in sandals hes about five eleven.
The fact that has a corporate logo tattooed on her wrist gives me cause for concern.
Ive always been kind of fond of moss and fungi. In Albuquerque quirky there is a moss that hangs from the branches of the trees up in the Sandia Mountains that is called Old Mans Beard. It is soft looking, ethereal. At any moment one expects an Elf to leap up out of the forest floor where the ferns canopy mosquito hordes.
I have a sneaking suspicion that maybe she thinks Im to short. That would be so shallow.
I just saw two snowflakes that were identical.
I think I may be in love.
Have I mentioned that God is dead?
Funny thing about closets. Never mind, I have nothing witty to say.
If Im so good looking, how come Im single? The next person who says Im good looking, Im gonna punch in the face!
Unless of course its her.
And Im not that short.
I was thinking about that time I grabbed her ass and nearly fainted. Im such fuckin Nancy.
Im a disgrace to the male gender.
You dont think I work here for the money? Yes I did say that and its entirely true or at least it would be if I could find another job.
The really pathetic part: I don't think she believed me.
I dont have a closet.
Did I say fungus? What I was thinking of was, Lichen. I like lichen. Not quite fungus, lichens are a symbiotic associations of a fungus with a photosynthetic partner that produces food for the lichen. You can lichen it to, you scratch my back and Ill scratch yours. Ba da bing!
Wiki makes me smart.
Ocellaris clownfish. At what point does a symbiotic relationship become an unhealthy codependency? Inquiring minds want to know.
Who is the enabler here?
I dwell among the tentacles of Ritteri sea anemones.
A.k.a. Telephone Bar and Grill.
I just dwell.
I am a late bloomer.
Which is really just a euphemism for an aestivating mudfish.
Im a grown man and Im jealous of a cat.
Would jealousy constitute a form of love or a degree of sickness? (Love)
God really does live in my closet.
Well at least he would have if I didnt just shoot him.
I just lied. I dont have a closet. Everything else is true though. How many people do you suppose believe in true love?
Not even a hug did I get! Is there anyone more woe begotten?
As a confession I would like to say that the only thing Jean Genet and I have in common is that we both like to shit in the dark. I find it quite soothing, the darkness and the dank fecund aroma of excreting fecal matter. I cannot speak for Genet on that matter though. But the feeling of being expunged of waste is quite nice and the lack of light offers sense of intimacy with the self and its eminent demise.
I only know that like me, he like to shit in the dark.
Moses does not.
Is there no solution to this equation outside of Pah! Yorik. I knew him well, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest.
Doubt thou the stars are fire
The one who should read this will never. A little more of me undermined.
My previous scatological confession would upset my good friend Damon. He would say you had to go there, didnt you. And I would say one has to go when one has to go. He would not be happy.
One does not say, I am in happiness or I am in sadness.
Words. Words. Words.
I would like to point this out. They may say I am in a house or I am in pain. But you can walk out of a house. You most definitely cannot walk out of the pain.
You can walk in pain but you cant walk into it the way you would walk into a wall or a subway car.
You can fall in pain but you cant fall into it.
You can fall off a cliff but you cant fall off the earth and that really pisses me off!
Because Im really fucking in with love you and Im telling you, it pisses me off!
You Bitch.
and there is a stone in my chest
that looks like bone
and you
are curled up
in my pocket
like a dollar.
Skull and dross
bones burnished
blank from the sun.
A pirates lair.
Passive.
Winter.
Cold.
The radiator gurgles and hisses.
Are you my girlfriend?
Am I your boyfriend?
No.
My pirate fucked your pirate!
It sure did.
How do you feel? Id feel a lot better if youd kissed me.
When its happening its beautiful, the snow without contractions. It is. White and such as it is I see no contradictions. It is as illusive as your affections yet see how it stifles the earth.
Look you now. Saw you my love?
is grammatically correct. Even if you had seen my love which is physically impossible, metaphysically dross.
Drivel.
There are things I want to tell you.
If you were here, the things I could do to you.
One cannot see an emotion. One cannot feel an emotion the way one can feel another human or A knife.
For one Id tell you to come back to bed.
The snow.
Its cold outside, lets snuggle.
Fag.
Heavy out back, fat and fast, flaking to the ground but by the stove where the heat wafts up it sort of drifts and floats in the morning half-light of 7:00 am.
Part the pink waves with my tongue.
She couldnt possibly be running in this. Youll catch a cold. Freeze that wonderful ass off.
Wonder if she talks about me.
Id be a whole lot better if youd kissed me.
Id have to bring her a hot cozy.
You know, I dont think it would matter if I were the second coming.
In a perfect world she wouldnt have gotten out of bed in the first place. Best birthday present ever.
If I ran into burning buildings for a living If I saved a small child each day in your name Indeed, I dont think it would matter if I were the highest paid fucking Yankee in the history of baseball: It still wouldnt matter; it wouldnt impress you in the least. You are the most recalcitrant and impervious woman I have ever met. In fact, if I werent in total denial, Id swear Id fallen in love with a lesbian. I bet that if I dropped dead right here right now while talking to you, you probably wouldnt even notice. And God do love your tits!
No two snowflakes are alike. Thats what they say, but how do they know?
Arrogant bastards! Im telling ya: not to be trusted.
How do you prove something like that?
You might as well say God lives in my closet.
If I did this for you I would do it out of love. Not because I want to but because I am in love with you.
And I would grow resentful because I am unrequited in every way.
Moss. Thats what resentment is, moss, or better yet a fungus that lives off the air; it accumulates like snowfall. Im thinking of the gray-green king, the kind that you see on boulders all flaky and ancient looking. At any moment you expect a hobbit to come running out from behind a tree.
God lives in my closet.
Yesterday I wanted to grab your head and force my love into your mouth. I wanted to swallow you whole the way you have consumed my entire being.
It is. To be or not to be is, is a weak verb. It is a weak verb to be a being. Even in its entirety. In its wholeness, happening.
Its true Im tit man.
Moses shat in my bathroom.
People speak of things happening to them and it pisses me off. I mean, what ever happens to me? Thats what I wanna know! Well Ill tell ya: NOTHING! Nothing happens to me. Or for me. For fucksake its my day off and Ive been up since 6:00 am!
What is all this shit about falling in love, anyway? Oh I fell. Did ya now? What? Did ya trip over a pocket of air?
I wanna be a hero God damn it!
Theres nothing more nauseating than a happy couple. Its truly revolting.
It was love at first sight. Thats my favorite. What a whopper of a cunt that one is. We just knew we were made for each other.
If only I had a gun!
Id open the closet and unload.
Theres something about falling in love that implies: Victim.
Theres nothing attractive about a victim.
Unless of course, youre a perpetrating, sadistic fuck.
Look at that doting piece of shit. Thats what theyll say followed by someone kick him.
My sisters ex husband
cant get no lovin,
walks around sad-faced and hurt.
But not me baby,
Ive got you to save me.
Youre so bad. Best thing I ever had
She loves Tom Petty, Baseball, Greek mythology, a cat named Toe, and Bourbon among other things but nothing more than the New York Yankees.
I always imagined that Moses might be shorter. Even in sandals hes about five eleven.
The fact that has a corporate logo tattooed on her wrist gives me cause for concern.
Ive always been kind of fond of moss and fungi. In Albuquerque quirky there is a moss that hangs from the branches of the trees up in the Sandia Mountains that is called Old Mans Beard. It is soft looking, ethereal. At any moment one expects an Elf to leap up out of the forest floor where the ferns canopy mosquito hordes.
I have a sneaking suspicion that maybe she thinks Im to short. That would be so shallow.
I just saw two snowflakes that were identical.
I think I may be in love.
Have I mentioned that God is dead?
Funny thing about closets. Never mind, I have nothing witty to say.
If Im so good looking, how come Im single? The next person who says Im good looking, Im gonna punch in the face!
Unless of course its her.
And Im not that short.
I was thinking about that time I grabbed her ass and nearly fainted. Im such fuckin Nancy.
Im a disgrace to the male gender.
You dont think I work here for the money? Yes I did say that and its entirely true or at least it would be if I could find another job.
The really pathetic part: I don't think she believed me.
I dont have a closet.
Did I say fungus? What I was thinking of was, Lichen. I like lichen. Not quite fungus, lichens are a symbiotic associations of a fungus with a photosynthetic partner that produces food for the lichen. You can lichen it to, you scratch my back and Ill scratch yours. Ba da bing!
Wiki makes me smart.
Ocellaris clownfish. At what point does a symbiotic relationship become an unhealthy codependency? Inquiring minds want to know.
Who is the enabler here?
I dwell among the tentacles of Ritteri sea anemones.
A.k.a. Telephone Bar and Grill.
I just dwell.
I am a late bloomer.
Which is really just a euphemism for an aestivating mudfish.
Im a grown man and Im jealous of a cat.
Would jealousy constitute a form of love or a degree of sickness? (Love)
God really does live in my closet.
Well at least he would have if I didnt just shoot him.
I just lied. I dont have a closet. Everything else is true though. How many people do you suppose believe in true love?
Not even a hug did I get! Is there anyone more woe begotten?
As a confession I would like to say that the only thing Jean Genet and I have in common is that we both like to shit in the dark. I find it quite soothing, the darkness and the dank fecund aroma of excreting fecal matter. I cannot speak for Genet on that matter though. But the feeling of being expunged of waste is quite nice and the lack of light offers sense of intimacy with the self and its eminent demise.
I only know that like me, he like to shit in the dark.
Moses does not.
Is there no solution to this equation outside of Pah! Yorik. I knew him well, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest.
Doubt thou the stars are fire
The one who should read this will never. A little more of me undermined.
My previous scatological confession would upset my good friend Damon. He would say you had to go there, didnt you. And I would say one has to go when one has to go. He would not be happy.
One does not say, I am in happiness or I am in sadness.
Words. Words. Words.
I would like to point this out. They may say I am in a house or I am in pain. But you can walk out of a house. You most definitely cannot walk out of the pain.
You can walk in pain but you cant walk into it the way you would walk into a wall or a subway car.
You can fall in pain but you cant fall into it.
You can fall off a cliff but you cant fall off the earth and that really pisses me off!
Because Im really fucking in with love you and Im telling you, it pisses me off!
You Bitch.
I especially love the line "heres something about falling in love that implies: Victim."
Totally agree.