guerillas point

want not.

it's the unraveling.

interjections.

and he insists he is not dissapointed

love me less
but for a long time
give it a rest
cinema francés

flooded and ill
your kisses, they kill
i'm exhausted and weak
you speak
i become meak
then leak.





desidero
el cerro
i climbed
time slips
away it nips
at my dry lips
wet pillows
smoke billows
cigarette after
cigarette before
devestation or laughter
build, postwar.

go jump in a hot lake

minute poetry and what's necessary's messy

i'm so in love with you
i'll be forever green
sick and jealous
i know there's something i could do
but i don't
you can't take it anymore
and you won't

italicize and fantasize
romanticize and jeopardize
i gove
in front, you dove
attention was a disease
corneas, the remedy

so now i've gone
respect never given
to you, always
and yes please
thank you but no

oh.

पीला

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5L2r4qxMnY

lips pursed
like the purse i grip
as this relationshit
becomes a forced friendship
yet that force that brought us together
is tearing us apart

heart.

fanfare

&c.

Orestes and Pylades

mon amis
go get your gun
for we shall pull a texan
tell everyone
celebrate us
because we always have fun
when it is just the two of us
without the aid of rum

we need not show off
because we both recognize each other's tricks
and when we blow a fuse
both of us grants the other one a bitch
sure you might be the woman
and i might be the man
but it doesn't matter if both of us
goes into the same can
we're not only close
we're also separate
we're so alike
in that there's so much difference
and we're so kind
that it's a bit malicious
and we take what we can get
and put back from the other
because both of us know
we stick like floor to butter
and what of that piece of toast
fallen to the ground?
it's the way our heads droop down
when either one of us feels like being the clown
and however many fights we get into
or things we let slip out
i don't mind if you leave
just don't not come back

you know how people
throw around "i love you"
as if it were "lol"
well if you were ever to say you didn't
i'd be in a living hell
i realize that was a bit
of a cheap rhyme
but that's the thing about friendships
you'll let it slide in time
and what of the passage of time?
and the hours we'll share?
i can't wait to grow old
with you in the next rocking chair
and if we don't get gangly and decrepit
we can harbor no doubt
that if both of us stick to it
there will never be a drought
and if you annoy me
and i annoy you
we'll have each other to annoy
and that's better than just you
or just me
because it's us
and no matter what they say
it's forever or bust.

OMG!

omg!
at the least, i'm beautiful
and i'm going to take
a lot of pictures of myself
and i'll look at other girl's pictures
so they'll look at mine
and i'll leave comments
that are the opposite
of what i'm thinking such as,
"love it" and "too cute"
and i'll use countless question marks
and exclamation points
and purposely misspell things
and revel in the typographical mistakes
because i'm proud of my ignorance
and peroxide induced stupidity
i think, no i know, i'm the best
and i have an almost deafening self confidence
in my screams and shouts
for attention and if it's ever brought up to me
that i might be too much
and that my bumping and grinding
and posing with a bud light bottle
is a bit transparent and it's apparent
i'm making up for a lack of genuine reflection
upon myself not based on what others think
but what i want to be
i'll look you up and down
scoff and text some nasty thing about you
to my friend who will
by all fault of her own
send it to all our other vapid friends
and we'll pretend like we're in high school again
because there are millions just like me
perpetuating that old adage that we're better
because we swallow what's shoved down our throats
among other things
and you're weird for resisting
you're convincing
you're exotic
you're fun for about a half hour
then you're back to just being that
fat fag hag rag bland creature
a beast from the east that smells of yeast
you're teeth aren't as white as mine
i'm running out of time
i'm not going to be this thin forever
my vagina will stretch out
as i'll shit out puppies like it's my job
which it will be because
i'm going to get married
and leave school
fuck my life
i want to wipe my husband's drool
and he'll leave me for someone twenty years younger than us
when my tits reach the floor
and as i stuff those dangling mothers in my socks
i'll get a gun and end my life
and you'll read about it
or hear some bizarre passing comment like,
"oh did you hear about her demise?
those last couple of months were brutal
he'd left her for some girl who turned out to have hepatitis c
and when he found out he got himself checked
he tested positive for hiv
and she didn't have it but, boy was she sad
she kept thinking of a plan
and then death didn't seem so final
i guess, she thought she could go out with a smile
so she exercised her second amendment
which was about all the exercise she'd done that year
and shot herself in the face.

but that didn't take so she shot herself again
and she didn't die but she was immobile
and in the hours after her agonizing death
she got a text message
and it was a lawyer and her divorce was finalized
and as she lay bloodied on the ground
she realized she's been living a frown
quite literally upside down
because that's how he liked to do it
and she only did what he wanted to
because he was paying the bills
and her son turned out to be gay
and her daughter was raped by some frat boy at a party
and ended up on the internet
like mother like daughter
and once she died she realized
that going up to heaven wasn't so bad
but she ended up in limbo
because she was unfinished
and lived her life not as she planned."

zach

i can feel it
your exit says it all
i can see it
the back of your head
through the smudged glass
of a window in which you've disappeared
as you become smaller
against the horizon
i can hear it
your wet steps
and your sigh of relief
no more dealing with it
no more grief
i can taste it
your lips on a bottle
picking up the throttle
no small death from you
but there is more to life
than to arrive
there is so much
to be said about staying
which you will not
do not
want to
why not?
thousands
or naughts
i do not know what to think
of the best years of my life
how can i classify them
if they have not a name
everyone can get behind
as you were
behind me
then front and stopped
and then you left
and have left
and will come back
but only abstractly
and for your things
and as the door continues to shut
and as the door continues to slam
i wonder what it would feel like
if you never were here in the first place
and sincerely it feels cold
and looks lonely
because it would have been
but in all honesty
it would have been better
better that i not to have
a you shaped hole
in my heart
or would i not?
you were the best that
i could have hoped for
and as i open the door
i can smell it
you are still here
you are still near
you are always dear
but you are so far away
and i wonder
if you were ever there
and when i'll get to see you
again

et al

speak up i can not hear you
over all this noise
and stress
and fear
and anger
you convey so much
in such a little package
with such a big head
and you are so tall

you are not small
at all
we should rent an atoll
for the two of us
to live in
and stand face to face
for centuries
or hours
or days
or weeks
or you
or i

why ask when you can answer?
why speak when you can strike?
why miss when you can kiss
those lips that have tips
about not eating after six?

and her beautiful quips
and marvelous hangups
are stronger than she is
than i am
i was
i is
i were
i am not and never will or could be

i wish i were her
with her beautiful edwardian mane
that flutters ever so carelessly
in the gentle yellow breeze
of a cool summer morning
while my cold gordon black hair
like a hurricane it rages
not flows
in a grey winter after

plastic all around you
and not an inch to pinch
i could fall in love
with chicago in the fall
and i already have
so i guess i do not have to say
that i could if i already have
semantics were always the death of us

i am afraid to let you go
because you will not return
but it is my loss
and your gain

i am so sorry
but i must shit on myself
for i want to show people
how to do what they are so willing
and ready
and prepared
and excited to do
have done
will do
to you question mark
never
you are so clever
you are great
you have got spunk
you are funny
smart
wit never seems to fail you

it is as if you have
a full staff behind you
of writers willing
to have you seat your ass
on their lips
grips
ships

oro y topacio

ahorra solo queda el eco de las frases
de las que decias antes
de los delirios de los amores pasados
de la fragilidad de entregarte entero

en frente de un beso
los labios te saben a azucar
la saliva a sal
y en torno morir en tus brazos
seria la sentencia perfecta

y jamas seras lo que pense yo de ti
y mucho menos espero tu llegada
espero mejor el futuro
lo que hay detras de tu salida

magnifica illusion
el que derramba la sangre
en un flujo de oro y topacio
ver de espaldas tu cabeza por la ventana
un cristal mas transparente que mis sentimientos
y manchado

edge

you look to the left of a window sill and DON'T necessarily use any contraction at all
because it takes time to register all of the information before you
the sleek steel and pallid concrete are flipped over on their respective heads in order for you to see, in the correct perspective
the one most apt for judgment and ridicule
the rain flows down from upwards, a heavenly note, as the sky becomes more and more complex the more i stare
into the blue, then white, then blue
field of retinal manipulation in the form of dark inverted dots in the distance yet right on the surface
love is a lot like those pollack inspired splits of infinity
microwave technology has required us to feel metallic inside and psychologically tonal modernity
shows up in the form of the everyday fabric
i hold on to my keys as i walk these streets
unwashed hair and saggy eyes
his smell still under my nose, both intoxicating and tiresome
there is a certain luxury that comes with urban warrior skin
it is a testament to having been born and raised in anxiety, fear, noise, anger, opinion and cable
i implore the public to forgive such shameless depressive antics; it is not sadness, it is contempt.

two thousand seven.

everything, never.

forever always, full of mistakes

options

playful

quirky

cathartic

bittersweet

brooding

angst ridden

cathartic

earnest

acerbic

confident

street smart

bitter

intimate

tense

anxious

aggressive

provocative

confrontational

harsh

reflective

i will pretend
that it was fate
that brought hate
into our lives

i will confess to
you my demise and in the midst
i'll realize dreams and succession
of secrets lined without direction

with you i fight
because you're blocking the way of the light
you're contagious and i'm sneezing
i'm wheezing and complaining
to the nines

i'm classless
i'm restless
all i want is to stay alive

morning drifter

things don't happen like they used to. it's not so much the taste as it is the digestion.

Perhaps I’ve been asking for it all along. Why have I been the subject of such a rage? I’ve got a few ideas, although, none of them are very credible. Maybe I am just a fag in other people‘s eyes, I‘m fine with that. It’s the people who look behind the outfits and passed the sarcasm, that are worthy of my attention. But I’m not changing for the likes of these, my enemies default. I haven’t changed anything for my family, I didn’t change anything for school, I didn’t change anything for the city. What makes people think that with criticism, I‘ll somehow feel bad and change the way I talk, dress or conduct myself? If I haven’t changed for that which is most conventionally sacred, why should I change for you? This city is full of them; contemporaries on the verge of a nervous breakdown. What makes us stronger is talk. Like a waif to a camera flash, what is most important is one’s reputation, good or bad, and to perpetuate what the social circles, that one has so involved themselves in, have figured you out to be.

There will be a lot of people, just as I, that will cross paths with those with shit for their brain. With an undecipherable fear of being the center of a lonely attention that paralyzes every cell in their bodies. What most astounds me is the fact that I had once had these people as friends. I guess I never really did have them. If their intent was to hurt me, they’ve only hurt me in this respect. What was in my eyes a companionship, has turned into a bitter rivalry. How far people will go.

No one really knows what existence means, what the point of it is. I’m pretty sure it’s the imprint left on the social fabric of your most immediate or your most distant fabric. A chance to say, I existed. I existed and have, many an outfit, to exist.

it's here and it's now and it'll never go away.

sometimes i feel like crying, too.