That bloodstream is susceptible to alcoholic enlightenment, with all of the tributaries running off into the ocean of sleep… the fingers are sore and the mind aches with fatigue like an SAT testing center during the final minutes of futile scribbling. I am the same child, scribbling in futile circles on a notebook of keyboard typing in front of a panel of judges. Seated on this mahogany bench are Aristotle, Dave Eggers, Einstein, Jack Kerouac and his crew, Woody Allen, Stanley Kubrick, George Carlin, Dave Grohl, Kurt Vonnegut, Freddy Mercury, Voltaire, John Bonham, George Harrison, Fat Mike, Karl Marx, Antonio Lobo Antunes, Henry Rollins, Celine, Conor Oberst…. all shuffling with anticipation and feeling extremely antisocial. They tap the desk with their knuckles and eventually attempt to bridge language barriers but many fail and are left confused and alone. That is the success. How it is to be alone and to write such interior dialogue. How it is to go insane and write a novel. Does anybody feel anything similar to that pressure?
How is Iceland this time of year? I looked at your villages and fell in love. My roommate told me he wouldn’t go because of your lack of cities resembling the insane cities of the United States and that he would never find anything to do. What about creating beautiful, honest music? The colors transcend the boundaries of capital cities and the glorious landmarks fall under the weight of momentary claims.
I accidentally ripped the top off of a group of browning bananas.. sheepishly ate one and realized how much waste I am capable of as a human specimen. I drink too much for free and write too much for free. There are words that I can apply to something disgusting and volatile. Wasteful. Some unforgiving business decision to find my sole purpose for writing belligerent scientific prose in a delirious tedium..
Fine, fuck it, I will write for your weekly spinal column.
Your science fiction narrative resembles all of the dead horses beaten in those horrible interviews. All of the ideas turned into evaporating liquid in front of our faces when we both knew instantly that I was not to be the hired man. The empty chair on the team would surely be filled by a man blessed by a more formidable build and shinier shoes.
The repetition and predictability is almost taboo. The smoking and the television. The drunkenness of a date and the sobriety of the driver. The ability to keep time so sensual.
“How can I achieve the ideal body of a fan fiction protagonist?”
How many sit ups will it take to avoid the blasphemous dietary claims of the unintelligent and painful chain restaurant aficionado. Will anyone die for this?
“It’s in the 2nd amendment sweetie.”
Believe in empathy and a sense of direction from the other side.
I lose twice because I will be judged harshly both ways.
Moon light girl, with starry, sparkling eyes. You made me a beautiful, healthy lunch and I fell in love with those lagging eyelashes for the hundredth time and then I lost count after the conspiracy of the couch and the leather blackness of it, we fell into a delirium of full idiocy and how are we supposed to live in a climate of hostility and violence and ridiculous ignorance paired with unstoppable generosity?
It is so god damn hot and I can’t complain enough about how my body feels now. Horrible. My eyes are burning with sulphuric acid and acrid smells of immense grape distaste emanate.
———
streaks of light
grape flavored swisher
speaking in code
to foreign majority
no need to vote
they are one in the same
and the same song refrains
we reap what we sow
and get what we pay
but money is not a hostile thing
we shouldn’t be torn apart by this
meaningless, ridiculous existence
sometimes you must just accept a compliment
rather than shoot it back, bring up a bleak past
you don’t deserve this
any of it
jokes about suicide
in the pseudo science lecture hall
the kind that has stained glass walls
and students never take notes
they pretend to understand
the lecture as an entirety
with learning as a natural disability to some
the bell rings and wakes up some
off to another weekend full of cum
god damn rhyme but the heat and the timing
the wasted six pack.. the heavy drinking
never stopped this brain from thinking
clearly you have a problem and your parents perpetuate due to guilt for many wasted years of early adulthood.
I was clearly lost and alone.
I wrote a lot of sad poems.
No one read them.
Dwellings 