Vulnerable Poems

At 6am I’m never awake

From noon to 6 am I’ve been alert with the love light on.
I opened my eyes to 88 degree sunlight and
now I hear the earliest birds singing in cool darkness,
propped up on my elbow, punching these keys.
Stereo glow blinks like Christmas in my hot bedroom.
The ceiling fan doesn’t spin fast enough. I sit
with my legs spread open. I replay dusty memory
reels in my head. Old haircuts, the way things used to be
shaped and colored, thinking how life feels vintage to me
now. I strive to make the future old news, like I never used
to be a Toys R Us kid. I like to spoil my own fun. Paranoia
perhaps? Trying to dodge the cancer bug, but killing my cells
and feeding the surviving ones garbage. Eating like a greasy king
with a silly crown. I hate hats. The love light is so bright though.
Really, it is. It washes out the cancer bug with immense shine.
Who is death?
Fuck him!
He is real?
Still-
Fuck him in the ass!
The love light is now a sunrise at 10 to 7. The birds have began a chorus
with the squirrels and the frogs and the lizards.





What Gives?

Potato chips before bed-
Drinking from the carton-
Flickering flame on the floor-
Frigid as stone butcher shops-
Dream pop and whisky sleep together.
Why doesn’t she want to blaze and listen
to Aphex Twin,
in bed,
all day?



TERROR
WOMEN
ANGELS
NUNS
GOBLINS

TWANG



Little Skeletons

There’s little skeletons everywhere-
Happy valentines day-
Yesterday-
Lovely time slipper,
day sleeper, kill
the dragons.



Legs

I have beautiful legs.
They turn red in the sun &
I pour bottled water on
my pretty knees.

She has beautiful legs.
They turn dark in the sun
when she pisses down them
wearing skinny jeans.

Hours later,
my legs scream like
boiled lobsters when
I leave.

I put on high socks
that clench
my pretty legs
inches above
the ankle.

Hours later,
I am still wondering
about her shiny legs
and wet socks.





The 12 pack is $9.99 in this county

That means I am drunk.
That means I breathe through my nose heavily.
That means I’m thinking very hard about the past.
That means I’m letting the future head-butt my breaking brain.
That is what I’ve been doing for years and years and years and years.
That means I have a wrecked personality.
That means I force feelings upon myself.
That means I rape myself.
That means I’m gay.
That means I need to fuck my girl.
That means she is at home, asleep, without me.
That means I’m on vacation.
That means $9.99 is a good price for a 12 pack.





I’ve replaced smoking weed with masturbation

My lungs have been cleaning themselves since I left.
I cough up dark phlegm every morning. Can’t smoke in Florida,
I don’t know any dealers. But pot isn’t like crack so, I’m breathing fresh
air.
What can I do instead of burn?
Find a fetish site
and beat it, all day, six times a day,
while the folks are gone, while
the folks are asleep, beat it, beat it,
beat it.
A self-rape hobby.
Getting nasty, alone. Digital
girls make messes and I need
to smoke a blunt.
Soggy cotton
fantasy, a kinky spoof
for dank thought.
Cumming
into the carb of a bowl
piece like a condom.
Burning erections like leaves-
The fuck crop-
One outlet stripped,
another abused.



Blue

To mold you.
Brand new.
To scratch an untouched paint job is beautiful.
It becomes my paint job.
My blow job.
Mine to chip into a million pieces or keep shiny.
Curious thing
like a picked lock.
Curious about
my cock.
Amateur when you touched it.
Lovely, looking at it.
I’m blue now, I’ll be blue forever.
Unless, I change color
like glass bongs or raw meat or
bra straps.
Why blue?
I ask you.
“That’s the color I always thought it was.”
Too cute to be mute.
Blue is the new
blue.







I’ve done it

I nagged the right person.
I’ve done it.
It’s like I found the treasure at the end
of the rainbow.
All I could muster-
Making me blush.
I’ve done it!
I think I’m going mad because of it.
It’s wonderful!
I find it sexy,
cutting edge.
Like I’ve one up’d everyone,
a lottery winner.
Crashing and surviving and being the hero,
all at once.
I’ve fucking done it.

Go to my apartment, go ahead-
You won’t find me.

I’ve made off, with the girl, and
the money, and the record deal, and
the endless supply of grass on a
motorcycle with a bright red
leather jacket and my hair
grown long.

You fuck’n pricks, I’ve done it!
I’ve created a timeless memory!
I am invincible-
It’s time
to get
to work.