Cold and Early nights sometimes make it worthwhile

did you seriously just do that?

yes, not that you care.

JACKNIFE.

55.

like a dagger.

the entire state of central illinois.

stabbed.

bleeding, bled on the dagger, all the way until we found our way home.

three bottles, and two albums later.

we were back from where we started.

we where nowhere and it was good.

we needed to be somewhere, but were too late, we were sure.

but no one really cared any more.

no one really cared at all.

and driving home at 3 am, seemed to be

perfect.

"Agony, Always Agony"

if you want to make you'r life worthwhile and meaningful, read Bukowski.

whores, part one.

sometimes, when i read the bulletins of my peers, i feel like god must of before the destruction of sodom and gomorrah.

doctor, doctor.

you don't bathe tonight.
in the gulfs.
frost, but quiet confidence.

the girl over atop the cliff
selling faith for nothing and nothing less

abundance of overconfidence
and the sun will see you through.
once you thought you were safe
the moonlight.

and all the air is cool, and the world
is sleeping, calm, tranquil.

conscience will beg at your door.
and i hope your heart swells.

ill send Jorge over right away.

Rivlet no.3

id be better suited to drowning in the deepest ocean
or
pounding my head with stones.
then to stay here.
daily.

rivulet no.1

your waves of lament
wash over me
lament

i can pray to the brightest stars
that my prayers might be answered
the ones who perch high above us all
and still like the moon, i will stay stuck

stuck, stucked.
the moon will bob and
float
in its lethargic mood in the ocean
sleep.

night sky (so oceanic!)
so fair (night sky)

return to me with your song nightingale
let me know im still breathing

return to me with your song nightingale.

A Ocean (or SEA, HORROR)

AT HOME:

I saw the cripple and her companion. The look of delight as they called each other, and the process of helping the cripple into her clothes and onto her wheelchair, both excited to meet the cold!

Grocer:

I wonder if the fat woman cries herself to sleep, or does she know?
does she-
-look in the mirror
recount youth
-does youth make her feel pretty again?
-look in the mirror and see someone she doesnt want to be
does she hate going in public, when she looks in the mirror?
does she cry when she think of what her kids might think of her?

lots:

sean rucker

sean rucker
'
an epihpany in my prose!

im too disconnected from myself, my feelings.

disenchanted, denial, but i never acknowledge direct reasons.

so instead i write prose using lots of metaphors and vague imagery.

Imagine! me saying rainy days make me sad instead of

"i saw the sky brgin to tremble, a million clouds examples of it's brute strength. then it started to overflow, and as did my heart, my eyes began to bleed".

pigeon fuckers.




THIS FOLLOWING IS A SUITE. A SUITE OF POEMS I WROTE IN THE FORST. K.

A Day In Woods:
Leaves.

Mf,1014

There were a million of you shark suckers on the blanket, the carpet of the forst.
As my brain mushroomclouded against the windshield, i noticed my soul still lingering
and the tiny man inside my gums played accordion till nightfall.


TREE

Tree. think about it. think about the universe, the meaning of life, what is reality, creation, life after death, the vastness of our galaxy, all the achievments, the uniqueness of every object when compared to one another which ultimatley leads to thinking about existence and life as a whole and then think.

a fucking tree.


Voyuers

i felt the two men at the edge of the sand were waiting for me to jump into the sea of leaves so they could run in and erase me with thier hands, amongst the silence of the trees.

SIDENOTES.

It's not my fault my brain works at a higher level therfore allowing me to function as a genius.

VOYUERS.2

does the man think im a student now, writing in my notepad, therfore now wanting to kill me more?
damn you, good times video.

MUSK.

the entire east side smells like death and looms like one entrenched in history, looking more and more however like a wasteland.

Snlght

squirrrellssss keep running they blend in amongst the leaves look like a combo of rat and shark.


THE

the hills roll with history,
the roar of the highway makes me imagine the roar of a large lake instead
young couples playing and tranquilty abound.

Fearsuites

The mouth of the beast was open ahead of me, displaying a calm, welcoming invitation to venture in, but i was scared and too reluctant to exit my vehicles of safety.

beige

what if the guy in the truck was cleaning out his sons truck because the night before he was brutally murdered?

tree waterfalls are great.
i realized im writing backwards so the transferring process might be difficult later. damn.

the man over there last purchased a hooker on his sons 8th birthday.
a weeka go.

my hair is growing so fast and curling even more, im afraid i got bit by a werewolf.

im convinced there is a forecutter, a scalper waiting to devour me in the woods.

the last time a woman touched my testicles, i was beggining life anew in a scenic town, perhaps in new zealand, or australia, or hell maybe even california.

ENDconclusion

I deal with alot of of selfish inconsiderate people and since my self worth is cracked i tolerate it.

NOT ANY LONGER.
HAIR=SAMPSON BITCHES.

Firebombs, Playgrounds on.

256 Bones

I never want to be the grizzled old man.
hands worn, heart cold.
putting in work to some selfish bastard
daily punching a clock, signing my death certificate
O-N-E letter at a
time
Living my life (or am i really living) waiting for things
that will never come.

if it does, will i be too frail to have happines encompass my body and fill my heart like a priceless vase?
it's yours to keep, but i cling to nothing.

Ethertrips

My heart might swell like an ocean
my anger might consume me whole
but my jaw keeps me connected to life.

STeals

Everyone else is stoking thier fire
villages, braggards.
i watch from afar
retreating, repeating.

dumb

so it was a nice and shiny day, prolllllly about noon when my world was changed.

pack yer bags, we're movin to montana.

what? why?

(i had just come from new york, i seen the five boroughs, i wanted to visit queens again.)

no. im not doin it.

you dont got a choice

kill that nonsense. give me your keys.

no.

im not fighting with you, this isnt a struggle.

abuse dictates no choice?

and i hated it. i didnt want to leave my apartment. the nooks and crannies and oddities ive come to appreciate.

ying, the newspaper salesmen...Walter the alcoholic carpenter who wasnt home much, and when he was he was LO UD.
patrick, the boy who worked at the grocerer and just got out of college.

im not moving.

but shit, we did.

or so i thought.

And Now The Results of My Study Concerning The Worst Sounding Word in The World.

abortion.