Poem

Bones

What if a tooth or
Two fell out?
Could I still smile like this?

What if my bones just
All barfed up?
What if I slowly took inventory
Of them
Laid them out, labeled them logically
And wrote
Instructions
For how to build me?
Would my dick be in the
Diagram?
They say it’s not a bone
But to her it always was

And if it’s she

Who pieces me back

If she sees me

And thinks I lack…

Will she piece me for me
Or just turn her back?

This is a Poem I Guess

I already fucked up the tip of this pencil
My hand is already tight
I can smell the wood
It smells pretty weird
It’s hard to believe this used to be a tree
The lead used to be in the ground
The metal thing around the end
Used to be a robot’s dick
And the eraser was a dead man’s nip
But now it’s altogether a pencil
In my sweaty hand
Tapping on the side of my jaw
Scraping against a different tree
That ended in a flatter fate

If that nip would flip and clear all this
It might become poetic
Nothing would be better than
It’s shitty ending credits

Soulginaenisbutthole

Our wallets have been taking shits
Isn’t that good enough?
I don’t care why its empty
I just want to fill it up
There’s pressure palming my temples
And it’s got me looking off-eyed
At my ears, finding symbols
For why I am bleeding from my
Soulgina
From my soulenis
From my soubutthole
Look at that zenith
Reaching the sky
Becoming a temple
Wondering why
It was so simple
To
Smush… smuuuush that skull into those brains
So much triangulates of pain
Releasing stars
Like a big black hole
Forgot it’s in charge
And let its guts control
Let its guts control
Its guts control

Guts control the stars

Sitting

What am I when I’m sitting?
Am I a tool?
Am I lost?
I’m using my brain, I’m typing shit
But I can never recall
What I said
It feels dead
It feels like thoughts are gone
What am I when I’m sitting?
Bountyless, boiling blood

With potential bubbling up and floating away
Levels lowering every day
I had hoped that clearing away the old shit would reveal some super special
Thoughts, some ground-breaking, sky-shattering, skull-fucking ultra
Ideas
But the ground and the sky and my mind
Are fine
They weren’t destroyed and rebuilt better
They weren’t upset, no transformation ever took place
Potential just bubbled away

When it’s night and I realize that I sat all day
With the hotseat cooking my ass
I let defeat take over me
I let uselessness last
I sleep in it
I dream in it
And when I wake, it feels just fine
Then I do it again
Again
And again
Hundreds and hundreds of times

When I sit, I don’t know what I am
But fine, fat, and stupid
Come provoke me to wise up and stand
Is the message in the mirror I plan to slam
My face into
If I can remember to

Yesterday’s Debts

I work today to pay yesterday’s debts
I pray for forgiveness too
Then draw in breaths to remind my body
What it’s like to feel goo d
I dribble the ball and pass it
I really want you to shoot
You need to know how to do this, I
Just need to survive this cruel
Adult brain
So full of debt
So full of hindlights beaming regret
On repayment
On forgiveness
Touchable things yet so distant
I feel like I can touch
The water bubbles rolling
Down those cheeks…
–
From
The people and the
Places
That I
Owe –
That’s where I go.
–
It’s like a had a hundred friends yesterday
Now I’m all alone.
–
To
The people and the
Places
That I
Owe –
You will know.
–
How much I always love you
Once the debtors fold.

Fart.

Arm in a Sling

This pain is really starting to hurt.
I am embarrassed in this shirt.
The book is never open.
The food is always frozen.

This pain is really starting to hurt.
I’m a bug unto this earth.
A loose tooth falls down my throat.
They say they love me. I say oh.

The butter’s really starting to churn.
Teachers try not to learn.
Duck, something’s flying for your head!
It isn’t truth. Truth is dead.

Toilet Not Taken: A Tribute

Two toilets diverged in a nasty bathroom,
And sorry I could not dump in both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it clogged in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as disgusting,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was nasty and wanted wear;
Though as for the asses passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In stains truckers trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a fart
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two toilets diverged in a nasty bathroom, and I—
I took the one less besmirched by,
And that has made all the difference.

If it isn’t already abundantly obvious, this poem is an ode to the Robert Frost classic: A Road Not Taken.  I’m sure he appreciates it.