Probably,
Muttered and ground up
Syllables tripping over themselves
Like an indivisible Greek unit
With no magnetism

Stuff made of the electronic void

Oh well
Oh well
Oh dry and bitter well

Ineffable.

the ones that got a way

Once I had ||:a way
Of speaking smoothly
In a tempered voice.

Once is just a way
Of being unforgiving
for other's movements
And how they pray.

Once I had a say
And it relieved me
Of being human
Because my choice was just:||

Interminable illness

Not enough drugs in the world
You tell yourself

Greasy black soot
The color of all colors

When there are too many of them

Never wear a brown suit he says
Obamer did
And he was still part of the gang

Blah blah blah mark... that and whatever this is
Tuckered out little fella? So sad so what so metered

oh well

Wainscoting around the belly of the beast
Trained dogs
And apathy.
My father suffered from stillness
And fear.

Poor little groundhog
Poor little dear.

Easy came
Easy went
Belly up through the tunnel of absenteism

Oh well
It's not like it's
Turned my asshole out...
Not quite a virgin
Not quite his fault

I've lost the plot, completely. why? why? fucking why? I'm sick to death of myself and of trying to avoid the everdark inside me. I am incomprehensibly sad... still. Every moment that has passed i miss, even the worst... what did i do? what have we done?

blah blah blah, will try again tomorrow

anger disbelief sorrow anger acceptance sorrow, moving forward; anger disbelief sorrow....
nope unchanged, so angry so scared so disconnected... nope nadda not happening

fuck you

fuck you

fuck you,

no shit

not gonna happen while you're listening..
ha, great, you're so cool you get this

poem coming soon

wat's a past gonna do for you?
fuck off stupid

stop translation here...
blah blah blee blah aint right
nowhere


stay away from it, you're not the one to grasp

blah blah blee b lah

wah wah wee waaa

fuck you

refuse to monopolize the words,
the language is not yours
or even ours....
refuse to let them destroy what is in order to
hold on to what was,
fuck it
fuck you
fuck your parents
fuck every idea youve thought you had
leave me alone
its the only way through this.

this is not a poem,
but you don't know this,
this is not a poem,
but this is not your fault.

you don't care for poetry do you?
it's not really a question but it
needs, begs pleads to be asked.
fuck you and all that surrounds you
pardoning this insane ineptitude to live.

who do you think you are?
what?
when has it mattered?
forget it and be better off as the thought never questioned is


pained as you are there are others more pained
and they know
this is not a poem...

fuck you,
deal with it

stained as the window might be, fuck you, you've got nothing i've got nothing and still we proceed; with what in mind? i don't know, i couldn't rightly try to tell you. the only one i thought knew offed himself in the modern tradition of giving a damn... fuck you to start it the only way i know how to, fuck you, who are you as an A U D I E N CE toi decide what youre going to listen to or not, long windedly; guess what you don't deserve peotry, write it for me....