but everything is simple

i'm something of a raw intention
clutching virgin memories
innocent as daydreams,
plain like the moon.

But deep inside
where layers live
no longer lie
(one but two?)
or don't
but do
the folds uncover?
yes.
blood deep enigmas spill to my pores.

i'm thinking that sometimes depth means simplicity; that my skin is soaked in ideas floating up like dead fish born again; that simplicity is often the greatest trickery.

if you trust yourself,
if a cliche can undress itself,
you'll see
that what you seek
is on the surface.
go to a mirror now.
stare, wait
oh...
now i see.

best

for me, it seems,
the best, for you,
i think, i know
a distance born from doubts and fog
up to the knees and down to the sheets
a gap to carve up time
or stretch it closer
i wonder
there's more or less left
to right
this train track life
forevers gone in high
speeds of fears and
washed down with my first cigarette in a month

isolation sculpts a truth
a lonely longing loving
or a love(ly) longing loneliness
i've been here before and again i'll go
into myself armed and hungry
full of swallowed words and knowing
things i'll never know
which maybe should be burnt into a stone
and dropped in the water

call to weird

gimme a clear rope
gimme a tight rope
let a spike of fear jab my gut
today a wild fog gave birth to a crisp blue with marshmallow toppings like in Istanbul.
something went funny
i have no money
got caught running, keeping still
a monkey mind man, i caught the line man
you think i'm made of mercury?
i'm no cure no, just for myself, yea
a bubble in my vein yells, Let Me Be
i'm still coming though, politics matter, hope
is just a message to shoot at fear
but if fear keeps swallowing, and everyone's wallowing
following, then maybe we should all get more weird...
-
or have a beer
or feed my mind
with vicodin and coffee
to cancel the effects
make em into affects
and get me the fuck
out
of
here.

death of paint

friends who twinkle in their light rooms
empty with crumbling convictions
and the yes yes yes i'm ready
but the no no no you're not

because when did we cut the corner
but keep the hiding spots
when did the wrinkles in our veins
drain the melting pot

squeezed until the bleeding stops

red is red or something else
but not a blue or pink
but maybe pink
but not black

when you say all the colors are the same
they drown in your blindness
and everybody becomes white
and black becomes white.

don't forget the names of colors

jumble

sand pockets and the nasty spill of forgetting into the wash away shoreline where mixed up childishness meshes with wetsuits and dolphin dialogues which rattle til forever as the night swallows the day as a shark swallows a tuna and the sushi on my plate swallows me with its scrumptious suspicious fishiness. and i laid in bed til twelve because dreams exhausted me like the time i road a wave until i crashed into my lack of want and tore into the saltwater with a grin and a fall that gave me a backbone and a song to sing when i again took hold of my guitar

hello

in the soaring heights of a tomorrow
a dawn whispers its way,
teasing
giggling at its trickery,
licking the dew from its rested fingers
again
putting one on
the tip
of a blade of grass - the way you look at it when you're lying with your head on the ground, staring sideways, with the one warrior in site, standing strong amongst an army...
or maybe
petting a notion of patience
while the sun squirms for its spot in the sky
and the chirps rise and twist with the symphony of cars and horns and vocal chord vibrations.
tomorrow is already today.
hello.

trudge

grilled skin
pink to my steel bones
brushing indifference over a fucked canvas.

it's all a sloppy second
biting at my bursting bubble.
i'm hungry
vomiting feral strokes to cover costumes of permanence:

time spit the river
time fucked virginity
time crushes the diamond

--man in scottish dress shoots
white plates in the sky
raining over sprouting landscapes.
water over a desert wanderer
muddy socks, wiggling my toes, catching my breath from the air-

i'm sopping wet with my forevers
snorting the blues through harmonicas in a minor
grinding the squeeze
licking up the in betweens/
i'm gonna wrap up the extremes
take them to the dogs

got a funeral in my body
hearst carving up my arteries,
death crafts the flesh road
brain cut with cheap prose,
and lizard lexicons.
i shake hands with a wizard who takes my coat
gives my knees a shine
asks about the days where i carried a past
asks about the wherever in the supposed to be
and cackles when i say i sculpted lies out of truths in reveries
he says remember me and
sends me off in a rocket
baggage dropping out my skin pockets
like crumbs off my tie after apple pie.

Zeus bolts

got the tail on the donkey
pinned, missed the spot
smacked my skull when i was strong
faked a war when i fought

fished paddles from a pond
upstream, eating flesh
cold pirhana life sinking ships
captain, a noose
flags, a ruse
the fast the fact you choose
pry a heart to shove a goddamn Zeus bolt of
conquest
blue fools

poster heroes, bloody veins crooked
seeping yesterday's life with a pirhouette
and a dip into streams of consciousness
skipping stones
wondering where to go
stop the world
gooey guitars mangled from blistering fingers
been too long
spinning worlds halting, one collides
dradle twirls on my holiday hair

friends who twinkle in their florescent chambers
squeezing out crusty convictions
throwing a contradiction like a boomerang
and cutting off your grip on the slippery globe

from a sad and lonely time:

you have no serotonin left in your brain.
your empty and withering away. pathetic
moving.
routine.
alone.
solitude with another.
myself.

wanting to die.
literally getting to that point.

friendship, love and needing people?
do you have that xandre? do you really?

you've never needed to actually take care of somebody in your life.
never.
you don't know what it's like.
to be in it together.

you need to get away.
and go somewhere. probably what people don't expect of you.
is what you should do. because that is probably the right thing.
get away. get away.
the music is there.
it is important.
you need it. it needs you.
but get away.

cut your hair

find stuff that makes you laugh. comedy.

buy DIRT.

dance.

together from past scribbles

arched over the white fence
my view has a slight bend

But I'm aware now
And I'm riding a ripple
to the edge of the world

sunset eyes,
cradled crescents of flipped moons,
the dark side melting
with innocent smiles of self-conscious modeling

insanity is what people say it is
who said the world is flat?

lines for this artificial conversation
creeping up my spine
like lemmings so I take
the first step
nonsense
consequences carry no weight when they land in the future.
when im sad i want to die young anyways
i've got dreams that need to be thrown into reality first

rose1

stitching quilts of ripping patches

forward but noisy

like chains dragging on asphalt

shelves with closed books

tired pages

Reaching for
MoRe.

grinding (to) bones

stripping clothes

foreskin hanging to my toes

growing nails to my nose

inhaling my past

ghost hit
shoooooooooooooooooooooooots
my boomerang cerebellum
to a Purity
like a quiet rose
in a glass vase
with petals fluttering,
blowing kisses of death
whispers
into grand charades
so a thorny stem
basking in a moment
free
from itself