halloween eve eve

God bless you if
your dying wish is peaceful,
but i can't see how it should have to be
cause if death is greedy why cant we be too?
God save me from these greasy spoons,
the last laugh crowd of the afternoon
who pushes past me while i pedal like hell
on my bike between a puddle and a sewer grate.

but if you can dance worse than I can dance
God help you.
I keep your memory in the space where my
brain once was,
my head's between my knees on the sidewalk
in front of a Dunkin Donuts,
spitting blood into the empty cup
of a hazelnut Coolata.
Things keep getting better like they
know they oughtta.

HaHa show#1. A promising group of people, this will be a promising show. I promise.

fur in my parka

rain under the staircase
with a coffee cup rush
turns my subtle brainwaves
into a mound of
mush.

sweet things

i have camels and a cardigan
and i cant wait till i get
home.
oh, i will come home.

and i was such a sweet thing,
me all weekend, such a sweet thing,
kissing everyone and everything
i own.

tuesday, wednesday, thursday

shaving my face gives me something to
savor.
I can't use a paintbrush
so i
use a razor.
There's no one to bother, no reasons to stop me.
I'll go to a party and drink till
i'm ugly.

spit the spit

i bit off a piece of my bottom lip
i swallow the spit. i,
i'm gonna be sick.

you dont need a camera
to picture
this feeling.

WHY DO I ONLY TAKE PICTURES OF THE SUN?!

WHY DO I DO THAT ONLY!?

wet weekend.

The rain comes down like
school kids running down the steps of the sky
and when I turn off the wipers on the windshield
It all turns into a cloud,
and I’m facing down a liquid crowd,
humming quiet buzzing bass lines in my Volkswagon Beetle.
I am young and dumb I’m
beautiful and warm and
not afraid of where my feet will
leave me.

i move a little slower in the winter
my blood and muscles are frozen still

i take a shower before dinner;
a Mountain Dew and a handfull of pills.

Just because ive got a betting streak
doesn't mean im good at card games.
i've got no mischeivious grins,
no mustache ends to spin, and hardly
any tricks to fit into my sleeves.
Just a couple of dirty jokes and dreams,
a sheet around me when i sleep,
and when the drugs begin to peak,
i'm the sweetest soul you never
really got to meet.


somewhere theres a record playing
in a room,
but right now i've got no simple tunes to sing on.
im burning up the American dream,
learning nothing from what everyone
thinks is knowledge.

New Brunswick.

I sold my soul in a yard sale
to a shaman in a sideways hat.
He gave me cigarettes, a penknife,
and a stifled laugh.