my life is greater

my life is greater
if i die in battle
even if i do not
see my victory won.

it is a disease

it is a disease
you fucking idiots

i don’t really know
if there’s a point
in bothering to
try my darndest
in convincing you
anymore

there can’t be
another explanation
it’s just like germs were
when big fucking louie
was first tinkering
around (WHAT DUDE
THERE ARE INVISIBLE
INFECTIOUS MONSTERS
SQUIRMING ON DAMN
NEAR EVERY INCH OF THE
EARTH FUCK THAT SHIT
LET’S GET DRUNK LOLZ)

it’s that brainlessness
this stinking rotting contamifuckingnation
this writhing in pain of
purposelessness and this failure
to see these CHANT CHANT
crossmyheartintheshapeoftwoplanks
ofwoodthatwereusedtohumiliateand
suffocatesociallydeemedscumoftheearth
so-called “solutions” that strip logic from
belief so powerfully that everyone
must (KILL EACH OTHER) must
siphon out what little beneficent
neural activity is still struggling
fucking CHANTS
just
aren’t
working anymore (WHY LOLZ) because

because look at you
when it just doesn’t make sense
and the only thing you can say
is that you see the “truth” in “little things”
or some shit
i’m left gagging
in the closest pair of laundered
socks i can find
instead of explaining (TO ME?)
-yes yes you it’s always me
goddamn yelling
take out the ear-rape electronic
diarrhea polluting your ears-
explaining that

if you’re seeking justification
in anything
for a faith (written by peers, for peers!) that
requires no AND IN FACT CANNOT have
any justification
then the façade is broken
and our arbitrary ethics are still

all that’s holding us here
if all that killing was for nothing

that is
if you are
seeking justification

which
of course
you are
because why wouldn’t you
it’s terrifying out here
put down the book and
huddle closer to the fire
yeah see this is good
oh shit we even got
a fresh jay.

i am euphoria

purest love rising in the ridges
of the softest fiery flesh,
pursed so slightly to suck slowly
the aching wound sounds from
a forever sunlit skin,
and embrace the collateral
damage of our world, fueling the
ashes in our hands of understanding
in a shining wordless kiss.
here, even bliss has no ground.

between my two, god extends
his mighty biceps, to – with naught
but grace – hammer softly the
chisel which cuts away dry
flaking pieces of past and
lust, and the marble smoke
clears to drown me in the
warmth of lips that eat
tranquility and squeeze trust
as if it were a dirty rag, dripping
tears onto ostrich wings
folded side by side in rapture.

time doesn’t fade – it becomes
all the more precious. glowing
grey, green, blue gazing forever into a
light-infested cobalt ocean.
an ocean casting its own spotlight
as she strums from the dark into
the heart of the world.
the soothing truth of simplicity
that begs to sing down mountains
like we have infinity.
countdowns cease, and like
these (likely) eternal hands,
counts more forward.

counts move forward,
widening, stretching, breaking
into a smile that gives god
a chance to rest and admire
his work.

the turn around

alas at last
we come to the culmination
of this most wretched odyssey

ascending here
to a stillness
relinquishing the reins into reflection

nothing but
the fact that we are done
left to breathe our bated breaths

the sag
where judgment does not lift its head
raises neither rifts nor ruin

no surging beams of light
no grand gesture of massive
applause or sinking wall of disapproval

just one brain
fizzling out into sheets far too nice
for dirt in a hole in an ancient fair ground

where did the rest go
never quite hit the mark
just tired of walking now

i’d rather others
have their time to climb all the way
up and then trudge it back down

to the turn around
the breath
the cold unfinished

end alas at last
the end there
was love.

what is an orange

other than
waiting to be eaten.

solo coal

burning star
sizzling tin foil
beneath the pulsing
orange glow

funky rhythms
in my hands sexy
sally and chloe
the last

beacons that could
successfully sustain me
in the briefest contentment
sad but

not anything more
than disappointed
thinking that this might
be where a grounding faith

could hold me here
in this last light
the orange glow
(clink clink) blow.

semen at the brim

(ful)
are those tears i see
you can’t possibly think
i wouldn’t love you
fucking infinitely

rationalization
cannot even contend
in this wretched amalgamation
of jizzing on fate’s face
a welt-ridden (definition of)
griggity-grotesque
leaking out into this
barely normal sense of life that
i’ve found

and i think the thing that is
most remarkable
is the smiling faces

that is
there is
actually something
under this revulsion
of all that which once suddenly
began to make sense
in the least rational of ways
touting

NIETZCHE I finally understand
your rather unhelpful
time-fast-forward
consciousness of what
makes us all seasick
the lack thereof
the predominance of fucking
so(crates)’ implementation of the ceiling

until blooming
blooms boom
blooms boom
blooms up
nothing down
believe (smile)
no please
it’s got to be okay
right

right right
as long as we look up
who could be down

it’s cold
but who could be down
who in this fetterdom.