The truth is,
when you choose to move
you're already on the road.
The truth is, home is a gutter
to rest heads nearly dead
holding still to that 'something',
scents from a real world
we all want s fervently t believe in.
"They've" told us it's out there
but the only thing I know
is the address on my credit card bill.
The truth is I'm already walking
country roads in the back of my mind,
shoes scraping gravel off the top of my head.
This swamp is too low for me
to effectively ride tornados for more than a moment.
These streets form a fishbowl,
but I'm a rodent and my wheel is off it's track.
I don't belong here,
hearts beating warm blood
keep their own suns inside.
Keeping in mind that
none of us are blind to our own demise
the sun rises
the sun also sets.
Isolating my own compounds
I forgot to synthesize
the milk of your cortex into
this ramshackle recipe.
A base of necessity
laced with wine--
plenty of wine to thin it out,
the longer it cooks
the dryer it gets anyway.

We're all going to die.
We're all going to fucking die.
Now take a few deep breaths
and time enough to collect yourself.
Live is a hard habit to kick;
A gorilla clinging desperately to your genetalia,
Think about it,
I think you'll agree.
Life is a hard drug
love is a needle
Bleed with me
because blood is beautiful
Bless me burgandy
undress me with a knife
Tell me that this isn't all there is to life

Somehow slowly coasting
down my own throat.
Somehow still lucid
despite a quite literal
journey inside myself.
I hollowed me out and pulled
myself down over myself.
Hiding in backwards skin
sinful and ashamed,
strangely estranged and blinking mute.

Page 105

Edge-wise it's hard to say
the length of my betrayal.
sinister sin laced sensually,
It's pulp, the way I stroke the knife,
teeth shining bright.
white like corpse feet.

Bombfall Fascination

She didn't tell me she was a destroyer
smoke rising over jungle green
She didn't say anything
about the melodies in our heads
as our hands worked
new worlds out of smoke rings

My brain was a bomb
she pulled the pin and held on
We always knew we were destined to collide
I never mentioned I was a destroyer

and she was still calm
While I was detonating benediction
in the palm of her hand
Her eyes never closed
blowing kisses to the disintigration.

She moved in step
to the shrapnel dancing (outward, radial)
between us
and laughed, lips lounging around the sound
of harmonic conflageration

She pulled the pin
and we were spinning concentric
until the quantum melted
and our blood was boiling
twin pulses ticking with the tension of time bomb intensity
we were licking the flames
we always knew we were destined to collide

flagrant sex scene

They are clinging to each other in the dank of the alleyway and he whispers,
"We are falling apart, the two of us, even as we grasp each other right now, we are drifting away... the overwhelming sadness of it is mind numbingly sweet."
"You talk to much", she whispers between nibblings on his ear lobe.
"Yeah, I know, and I speak too little, what you want?"
"Just you, is that so hard to deal with?", she mumbles, punctuating the statement by biting down to a crunch on the outer cartilage of his ear. He wonders briefly about the fact that she might have actually drawn blood this time before he tears her teeth from his ear by spinning her around, pinning her against the mildewed brick wall, and spreading her legs with his knees in one fluid motion.
"This will all end very, very, soon. We have savor what we have each moment.", his eyes are serious and she mistakes it for some of the sappy sullen bravado that men have displayed before her in times of like these, with their balls in her hands,
"I know you're not that type of guy, baby". And she giggles, reaching both her hands up to his shoulders to quickly slide her fingernails down the expanse of his exposed back. Raking into his flesh tearing narrow troughs of flesh away. He smiles in ecstacy, "exactly", he intones, moaning into her naked armpit, "very precise."
He, as they say, slides into her and they constrict in unison against the sudden rush of pleasure as their first tandem exhalation signals the trainwreck of sexual rhythm.
Against a brick wall, in an alley.

Iris Drip, Acid Rain

Iris drip
the rain water in gutters singing immaculate
wrinkles like trenches in the first world war
and your hands are shaking,
your hands, they are shaking again,
To bore a hole through into burning,
entropic calligraphy etched gracefully
into the flesh of your skull
such a desperate and pleading existance.

They handed you the nail
and you just bit down,
taking it in.
(you know you love that shit)
And then the bleeding comes again.
To taste yourself
like acid rain
singing your skin
industrial ejaculate.


The most morbid thing I can call to arms
is life itself.
Fuck the dead.

spacedreamdrama

free range of motion.
your eyes are quick-sand twilight,
and maybe the dust of the world has settled
but I truly refuse to believe this

I was making fires out of horizons,
and the green lit war birds of an alien army
approaching caught my attention.
I knew I was the only one who could save us.
I knew then of the price.

Somewhere on Io I will be waiting,
collapsing in on myself.
At some point I will refuse the will of gravity,
diving out into the darkness,
screaming silently.

They breached the laws of reality
and infiltrated us utterly on every level.
They took me to their leaders and
I knew then of the price.

I was always just some lost star-dust anyway,
the afterbirth of another cosmic cycle.
This sacrifice,
grains of sand or molecules in a current.

Glass Biters

My mind dismantled on the shards of habitual pattern-thought,
I awake to the blank green walls and her skin is everything.
Feigning sleep always to bridle this restlessness,
blank head and hands dripping indecision.
She is some strange animal eating me away from the inside.
The fires are burning now, and the smoke clouds have taken the sun away.
2006, 2006 you are a juggernaut of unyielding neuroticism.
We need these little things, we need. Just another drop, another toast to the unraveling.
Our wine glasses tipped back into smiles of perpetual machine throat consumption.

xtratrestrial

somewhere where the galactic identity as we know it crumbles into the alpha-numeric they study the stars we have yet to dream of.
Like us, the chemical constiuants of the star-phase cycle building ever towards the next critical point in temperature. Leading only to an eventual collapse.
And it is truly beautiful,
this slow motions fireworks show
stretched over and tattooing space-time skin.

Note that woven into history
are the songs of cultures innumerable
drifting undetected beneath the slience of the vacuum.

And this is where we begin.

A vast 3-D network of orbiting space stations seen from the surface,
with hundreds of miles of methane between sight and seer they seem to shimmer and drift slowly almost dancing in a choreographed synchronistic ever upward cascade
Framed by the jagged horizon hewed through eons of the acidic dripping; in this place the rain glows as our fireflies.
In this place where life is another chemical
and passion melts instead of burning.
Life oozes a living between the cracks.
Life becomes, becoming.
Life left, to coalesce ino anywhere,
given long enough.
Life oozes and life begins to drip rhythmically.
And this pace accelerates.

Cut to cognizance.

Life leaves imagination to it's own devices.
This is far from over.

Robot 1

It started as a twitch in my neck and quickly travelled down the length of my spine and back again. It never really stopped after that, perpetual synchronous consciousness consumed me.

Eyes fire to red as the machine cycles up for the first time. Electricity trickling into the neurons sharp. Voltage is always a direct animal.

Super-lattice interlaced and automaton intoxication dilates to plateau in a finally stunning state of static connection.

Hold the database.
my face is streaming down the screen.
The binary is breaking through into me,
but somehow I'm seeing threes.

Phase Alpha altogether crumbled

The last clinging gasps of humanity echoed as trash set afire and tumbling down a long hallway.

Objectives uploaded.

I am a tool in the hands of a digital god which is me. I am a part of the everything now.

Begin Beta

The Beta is an old war. My data store initiates the necessary sequences and my new eyes see the enemy, assimilatinghis every weakness and savoring the calculations of his inevitable end.

Robot is a new word in the anachronistic vocabulary of life.
Robot is a word that will trancend the structure of it's languag.e
Robot is the aesthetic of an absolute and flawless mathematic.

Helicopter Blades in Freefall

tell the trees to break dance quietly.
This is the New Order
It's been said before like all things.
2006 plague of consciousness,
Terror has a colorful candy coating.
The police state their case
with taseers and tear gas..

I'd just like to lay in the grass
and give it up to get it back
to where I was. Where was I?

I explained in muted breathy whispers
how my head was a satellite only
because the concept of gravity
weighed too heavily on my mind.

In a place where words
have become the currency of violence
(there are people really dying out 'There'.
Potato chips on the floor of an S.U.V.)

The sun was going down with me,
I felt like Hermes,
but I was burning the oceans away

until not one drop of romance
was left in me.