your expectations wants demands tactics tricks and commands are just a mirage
i too can do unto others but i choose not to i am at the disposal of my mind heart and soul exclusively
i break barriers and ceilings with the ultra sonic boom of my love quietly in the middle of time and my shed tears turn into diamonds
from my breast i nourish innocents the army of all
with a turn of my fingers i knit the cloth to shield innocents from the darkness of your claws
rain stuck in the gutter mud needles even glittered pine cones from Taiwan congregate in rubbish soup
lines long at city hall and the soup kitchens too Star Bucks forget it i might as well be gone
yet i love her like a mother loves her son when the battle of the souls is lost
pinpoint to the time when spewing truths out of our lungs picket signs pro this con that
here we receive old boxes filled with wasted time to keep forever under downpours of collective pain
time what is it really just illusions how can one waste what is a lie just a mist in a dark cold swamp a little village of my mind it sits there and wallows remembering memories that never happened like kisses from my mother i have full control when the birds sing time what is it exactly me thinks of time as the breath of the gods the heartbeat of the mermaids the haircut shavings of the gnomes in the forest deep green cool moldy forest located in the left side of my heart untouched by time still waiting still haunting time
I woke up mid morning thinking of how many ways can one skin a couch. I slept on the floor boards of the 8th floor room of a woman who used “whore” as her pronoun. I smoked too many things last night and my head was throbbing. My nose bled some too as crunchy clusters of dried blood dropped onto my arm cupping my head.
Last night, on Werdin Place there were lots of people hangin’ out and doping up. Lounge lizards sitting on about half a dozen couches, right there in the middle of the musky alley. There was one couch in particular that was just foam and wood. It was still very clean, but as hard as I looked I couldn’t see where the cloth covering had gone to.
So that morning I started off with two canned espressos and a diet coke that I had in my book bag from last week. Tiffany came in from the shared bathroom down the hall. She was pissed or maybe her traced on eye brows were crooked. I just looked out the door past her calves. Someone was getting yelled at then she slammed the door. Her eyes were hard and mean; beady as hell too. Tiffany once told me that her momma had an affair with Elvis after her daddy left them to join the Navy. I never doubted her.
Tiffany lit a bong shaped like a big purple cock. A present from one of her many admirers she gasped between inhales. She offered but I politely declined. I was a few years away from wanting to explore those kinds of shapes inside of my mouth. I could see she was offended as she smacked her lips and twisted her neck at me. It hadn’t been the first time so I hid my smile from her.
Taking three long slow drags from the bong she stood up slowly and dropped her worn out Wonder Woman beach towel. The dirty blond pubic tufts flayed from her arm pits and crotch were stiff and wire like. Tiffany sat back down and I could see skin hang like Christmas decorations from collar bones and ribs. She was beautiful in a medical way.
We didn’t talk. I stirred around my back pack and got the works and a rock out. Tiffany held her chin high and words crawled from her ashy lips. You can cook and shoot if you let me fuck you. She smiled and said she had wanted a taste since last year. I wasn’t fazed by her condition, but I was inconvenienced because I didn’t really want to walk down to Werdin. I answered under my breath. Tiffany told me to get the hell out of her house. I said ok but thanks for letting me spend the night. I was growing tired at 19. There were 700 rooms at low weekly rates and I couldn’t just yet rent one. All my assets were tied in under the counter investments.
i woke up mid morning thinking of how many ways can one skin a couch i slept on the floor boards of the 8th floor room of a woman who used “whore” as her pronoun i smoked too many things last night and my head was throbbing my nose bled some too as crunchy clusters of dried blood dropped onto my arm cupping my head.
last night on Werdin Place there were lots of people hangin’ out and doping up lounge lizards sitting on about half a dozen couches right there in the middle of the musky alley there was one couch in particular that was just foam and wood it was still very clean but as hard as i looked i couldn’t see where the cloth covering had gone to
so that morning i started off with two canned espressos and a diet coke that i had in my book bag from last week Tiffany came in from the shared bathroom down the hall she was pissed or maybe her traced on eye brows were crooked i just looked out the door past her calves someone was getting yelled at then she slammed the door her eyes were hard and mean beady as hell too Tiffany once told me that her momma had an affair with Elvis after her daddy left them to join the Navy i never doubted her
Tiffany lit a bong shaped like a big purple cock a present from one of her many admirers she gasped between inhales she offered but i politely declined i was a few years away from wanting to explore those kinds of shapes inside of my mouth i could see she was offended as she smacked her lips and twisted her neck at me it hadn’t been the first time so i hid my smile from her
taking three long slow drags from the bong she stood up slowly and dropped her worn out Wonder Woman beach towel the dirty blond pubic tufts flayed from her arm pits and crotch were stiff and wire like Tiffany sat back down and i could see skin hang like Christmas decorations from collar bones and ribs she was beautiful in a medical way
we didn’t talk i stirred around my back pack and got the works and a rock out Tiffany held her chin high and words crawled from her ashy lips you can cook and shoot if you let me fuck you she smiled and said she had wanted a taste since last year i wasn’t fazed by her condition but i was inconvenienced because i didn’t really want to walk down to Werdin i answered under my breath Tiffany told me to get the hell out of her house i said ok but thanks for letting me spend the night i was growing tired at 19 there were 700 rooms at low weekly rates and i couldn’t just yet rent one all my assets were tied in under the counter investments
she thrived optimally when lost in LA
salty sassy loose and Catholic tube top wearing even on cold days
mother of three husband gone missing foul play by the finest in town
she talked back and took what you had with scorn and laughs
yet in the sun light at the plaza when traffic is quiet beggars and convicts safe in their bags
she fed the pigeons ever so delicately threw breadcrumbs at them not like a DiMaggio but like a Pavlova
then they were fed no more
words less spoken 