NIGHTMARES ON SALE – GET 2 FOR THE PRICE OF 1

April 1, 2012

I TRY TO IGNORE THE WHISPERS LOUDER THAN THE SCREAMS. IN DREAMS I WALK WITH YOU. You Roy.  I AM TRAVELLING. Always traveling. Moving. New apartment. New house. New CCITEE-Y. NEW STATE. STATE OF MIND. Party goers and house warmers and birthday goers and CHRISTmas mass attendees gather. I know some then I know everyone. I am no one. They don’t see me this way. He doesn’t see me this way. She. You.

 

MR SANDMAN BRING ME A DREAM.. I know you. I love you LOVE! I carry buckets of paint to your house and the party has just begun. I GET NO KICK FROM CHAMPAGNE either Frank, baby. Seven sisters of love pies stare at me and glare at ME AND THAT LOOK. THAT LOOK. IT SENDS CHILLLS DOWN MY SCARS- inside and outside that run against my heart. Let’s get this CHORDETTEONIAN PARTY STARTED MR JIMMY!

 

I put my arm around Grandmom to say I love you. People STARING. People caring. Empty people fill the crowded party. Acting hearty. Listing their character defects. Last chance. MY DEAD GRANDMOM TURNS HER HEAD AND SAYS “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!”

 

 

I wake up smoking and drift back along the sea of asphalt, scraping my fat ass and ripping my favorite dream jeans still wondering what I did. WHAT DID I DO THAT GRANDMOM KNOWS I DID? Was it last summer Jennifer Love?

 

I am alone. ALONE. MY NEWEST OF THE NEW HOUSES. Sir Raleigh comes with news. I thought he said PRESIDENT REAGAN HAD DIED OF INDECENT IMPLOSURE. I didn’t care until I realized he wasn’t just dreaming about my Dream girl locked in his dungeon TIED UP WITH VINES and THE SISTERS OF REJECTION.

GIVE HIM TWO LIPS OF HATRED AND VIOLENCE. RESTRAINING ORDERS, BRIGHT LIGHTS AND SIRENS.

 

“SHE’S A COKE HEAD” HE SAYS.

“SHE USED TO GIVE BLOW JOBS TO HERMAPHRODITES.” HE SAYS.

 

My throat fills with vomit and joy. IN DREAMS I DO COKE WITH YOU.

 

Stolen emotions and borrowed gifts are shared at the airport and train stations and parking lots and I’M STILL NOT SURE WHICH IS WHICH. IN DREAMS I TALK TO YOU. Us is back and you is cornered and still slip away. Reptilian monkeys bred become bread for the children of Elizabethan peasants but I grab two of them and hand them to the girl with ruby slippers and she vanishes like the Dark Knight into the dark night when she hears Bruno approach.

 

“I’ll whip you now my pretty and your LITTLE MAN too! Hahahahaha” Bruno yells but not enough to find her. I find her in her Old Kentucky home with three wooden porch steps away and I go into seizures. Jules Vern hides Tu-Tu Hundred Feet Under The Sea Under The Porch. I pass out. DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM –DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM. MR SANDMAN WAKES ME. The ape lizards have grown by the time I reach the inside. The Dark Huntress awaits me wearing a smile and a bra. I am excited to see her but worry about poor Mr Vern. Guilt reddens my pink face knowing that I shouldn’t be THERE. The Queen would be quite jealous and take away my deconstructed addictive Kingdom. SHE IS THERE AND SHE IS THERE. IT WAS A DUBIOUS PLAN OF THE HUNTRESS OF DARK TO HAVE Mr Vern under the porch and watch my web of lies unfold. The evil one IS not Bruno and I NOW KNOW WHAT GRANDMOM KNOWS I DID. I JUST DIDN’T DO IT YET WHEN SHE TOLD ME.

 

Caught in the trap admiring the salamander gorilla’s ability to change in size determined by the cage they are in. I imagine if they were let loose if they could grow bigger than the entire world. My Darling Queen and my Miss Huntress dance and change clothes despite the height and come out laughing at me and yet forgiving me and I feel a calm as MY DEAD GRANDMOM SAYS “ I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID.”

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Suck My Fuck

February 6, 2012

Suck my fuck

I’m out of luck

The Sandman took

My very last buck

 

I want to live

I want to give

I want to love

I want to forgive

 

From God I’m forsaken

I feel he has taken

Unless I’m mistaken

I cannot awaken

 

I’m sick in the head

Stuck in this bed

Moving I dread

I feel so dead

 

All I want is love

Without a kid glove

Yet pure as a dove

I’ve been so void of

 

Cursed

Blessed

Thirst

The rest

 

Fuck a suck

Eat a duck

Mind is muck

No more Luck


A POEM: Keep on

August 26, 2011

Tattered black hair and perfect white teeth. Drunk and sober she was the same.

We liked to fuck. And fuck. And fuck. Sometimes we’d fuck again.

She was an agent in some secret bureau or agency or something. Secretive shit but she liked to fuck. And fuck. And fuck.

She worked a day job as a paraleagal at a huge law office. She liked it ok. But she liked to fuck. And fuck. And fuck.

Prettiest green eyes on her Angelic face. Perfect body to fuck. We fucked. And fucked

There was romance sometimes. When I could. When she could. She was an original. Spontaneous and well planned too. Confused? I am. I was. But we fucked. And fucked.

She went to school. I graduated years ago and had no secured future. She wanted more than a good fuck. The fucking was good.

She’d leave me. I’d mourn her. I’d get her back. We’d fuck. And fuck. And fuck harder with more intensity than ever. I wonder if that’s why she’s leave me. Make up sex.

The break ups got easier each time. I was beginning to get the hang of what to say and do to fuck again. And again.

I loved fucking that perfect body. We fucked everywhere. We’d meet to make up and fuck in the streets, our cars, her bed, my bed, couches, public restrooms, anywhere. Fuck. Fuck Fuck.

It ended a year to the date we started it. I was hitting a low point of my life and she was afraid it would affect her secret career. I wasn’t good enough as a member of society. Didn’t even get a last fuck.

It’s been years and we still haven’t fucked. Or fucked. Or fucked. Or even talked.

I hear she keeps fucking. And fucking. And fucking. Sometimes she fucks my friends. And fucks. And fucks.

I haven’t fucked much. Or fucked.

Just wanted to say goodbye to her. Goodbye to fuck.

Goodbye.

*written for you Kathryn. Keep on fuckin’*


Shit. Piss. Fuck. Blah blah blah . . .

August 24, 2011

 

Shit. Fuck. Piss. Etc. Man this new way of life is making my new way of living extremely difficult. Blah. Blah. Blah.

 

My bills exceed my income every month. Ever since I moved in this house of hell in October 2010 with my good friend and now moody, secretive passive aggressive roommate. My  landlord is also a friend and an aggressive no bullshit type landlord who gets upset when money is late for the rent and the electric and water bills he pays for this house. Blaah bla blah.

 

Piss. Shit. Fuck. I’ve been out of work since May 2010. I was living with my adopted mom. I had a lot of money in the bank and little rent to pay. It was a great deal and I wanted to get my creative projects finished despite my little unemployment checks. I published my first novel a few days after I was fired for example. I wanted to carry the unemployment and my savings as long as I could. I picked up a little labor work with my uncle here and there. Life was good. Not for my Mom. I could tell she wanted me out. Blah. Blah Blah.

 

Fuck. Piss. Shit. An opportunity arose that I couldn’t resist. My friend owned the house next door to his and was renting it out cheap. It’s a 2 bedroom house and I knew a friend that I had talked about getting a place together for years. It was all set for October 1st 2010. I had plenty of money to last me 3 months or so. I figured I’d get a job at that point. I know I’ve written about this shit so many times but I need to update it for me and possibly you. Blah. Blah. Blah.

 

Shit. Fuck. Piss. When all other options were dwindling I tried to work. A good friend of mine at the time hooked me up with a phone collections job where he worked. It was straight commission. I have 10 years experience doing phone sales and I had high hopes for this job. I was excited. The guy hiring me interviewed me and hired me pretty fast but kept putting off the training date. A week before I was to start my Trigeminal Neuralgia (TN) came out of a 2-year remission. It affected me pretty badly and my Bipolar disorder and anxiety were back in full force. I over slept on my second day of training. I tried calling several times to save my job to no avail. My friend that got me the job told me to just come in person. I was in pain and depression and fear. I lost the job. It was then that I realized that maybe I am unable to work.  Blah blah blah.

 

Piss. Shit. Fuck. It was around this time my adopted mom suggested I pursue the wonderful world of Social Security Disability. She was the last person I know that would support me going on SSD. She has never thought that I was incapable of working. She saw the change. She even read up on Trigeminal Neuralgia and Bipolar disorder. Several acquaintances also suggested I try to apply for SSD. On even had an agency that handles everything for you for a percentage of the retro disability reimbursement called Allsup. I called and started the process back in February 2011. It’s now nearing the end of August and I’m still getting letters and now doctors appointments with their doctors. Blah blah blah. Shit

 

This shit. This piss. This fucking piss shit waiting period could last forever. I have another appointment with a neurologist and then I’m told it will take another month to process and make a decision. I’m kind of happy I get to see the doctors and they can see for themselves what a mess I can be. Blah. After a month my SSD case can go several ways. The best scenario is I get accepted, Allsup takes their cut of my retro pay and I get a check just big enough to pay back the people I borrowed money from, catch up on my immediate bills and then get my barely comfortable monthly check. Blah blah. Or I get rejected and Allsup will fight the rejection and it starts all over again and can take another 3 -6 months or more. Shit. Blah.

 

Fuck, shit piss. The other option is that my case will be moved into another level of evaluation whatever the fuck that means and it will be a few more months of waiting. Then there may be another level of waiting. Waiting. Blah. Fucking blah… My unemployment may be running out in November and if there is no decision by then I am more fucked then I feel like I am now. Blah. Blah blah.

 

Shit. Piss. Fuck. I have had enough. I have never been so broke. I have never had to ask friends and family and friends like this before. My depression, anxiety and face pain are at the extreme. Despite this fact I go numb with denial and escape and want to run, hide (if I could move) or take some deluded yet creative and possibly successful drastic moves. Blahhhhh

 

Bills piling. Shit. If something doesn’t change I could be carless, homeless and broke in even more major debt than ever. Piss. Helpless? Hopeless. I’m not sure. All I know is that I had enough. Enough.

 

Not sure where I will go from here to deal with this shit. All I know is that something has to be done soon before my life is complete udder piss. I have to fuck things up somehow in a different direction. Fly my own . ..blah blah blah… etc…

 

Must win or die trying.

 

 


Today Again

July 28, 2011

Shit. It’s today again.

Lazy. Not so much. I sit. I lay. I spend the day trying to make my meets end or end meets or meats.

Pay bills. No money. Get money. Owe money. Pressure. Stress.

Mail. Social Security sent me 5 separate 10-page packets to fill out. Explain my disabilities. I tell them that the experience of filling out the forms triggers all of my disabilities. It’s true. I get almost halfway done and have already medicated myself with over the counter and prescriptions.

A night of watching Kevin Smith movies and eating the sheet of dried seaweed my roommate gave me. Wash it down with any liquid I can find to dehydrate and rehydrate me.

I create imaginary masterpieces to get the toxins out of me and into you.

Piss more toxins and negative energy away in the toilet every hour from drinking too much water all day. It’s good.

More pain. More anxiety. More pills. More time.

I sleep peacefully.

Dreams are so much better than my life sometimes. I wake up disappointed and sweating. My bladder is full. I spend 5 minutes straight unloading.

Stumble in the hot house turning on every fan and I play with the thermostat.

Drink water and wait for my coffee. Cigarettes and water.

Shit. Today again.


A POEM – Piss Thoughts

July 6, 2011

I just took a piss. Nothing extreme. Nothing impressive.

 

I was just thinking. I think when I piss. I think about what I might do after I piss.

 

Sometimes when I piss and I’m going back to a party or a date or hanging with a friend I think about all of the things I am going to say next.

 

Sometimes I think about how I’m going to get my date to kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me.

 

Sometimes I think about the impressive things I am going to say to people when I am done pissing. Deep and meaningful thoughts while I piss.

 

Sometimes I think about what I am going to write when I get back on my lap top like now.

 

I just took a piss and thought about writing a poem about my piss.

 

Here it is folks. My piss thoughts. Not thoughts of piss.

 

I wonder what you think when you piss. I wonder what you think while I’m pissing.

 

Do you hope I don’t come back?

 

Do you wonder if I am thinking about you? How I can kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?

 

Do you wonder what stupid thing I am going to say next to be the center of attention? Do you wonder if I am going to come up with something to say to warm you up to me?

 

Do you think when you piss? What do you think?


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