when the rules are broken

i become translucent

and

drunk
so
fucking drunk


though i am recovering from subconsciousness



there sits like a faithful dog who bites his master


the mahogany, autumn, and soil and soil.

the backwash dirty water

blackwater

from middle america

ferment. for me.

the sour mash.


it tastes like sadness to me.
sit in my throat.
be caught in my teeth today.


today. i awoke and wished to remain absent from everyone.

beset in fest. i am a

wild

voracious
beast.
unkind.
vicious of my kin. of my kind.


no teeth to my bite
no fist to my fight
no will to my might

crippled amputee.

cry for me.
says the ocean, bleeding salt, bleed me salt.

they would come to taste.

i asked the eternal question of the burlesque viz.

would i hit myself with my own life?

i would with a brick.



the world today is suspended like a liminal tv screen.

please decide whether you will be white or dark.
for her. for me.



i am 10 stories away from a fall.
we climb slower and more steady every day.


but the woman who sleeps two stories above me fucks all the time.
she finds the dregs, the hearts with holes, the empties, the sunken eyes, the ugly of uglies, judas and says
im easy.

i get sick when i hear it.


the woman i love does not find happiness when she thinks of me. i am skinny, love.

the father i love does not find happiness in life

the mother i love wishes to take her own

the sister i loved has given hers away

the brother i love has forgotten he is living

the friend i love wishes to remain fucked up on:

passing women
whiskey
cigarettes
angel feathers
sad songs
bad poetry
greenery

the self i once was is becoming stronger through the crushed veneer

that was indiana, that was yesterday

do i have anything that i can keep?

everywhere i travel i carry them with me.
so i travel light.

keep me together for the rules.

i have been starving for the little bits of inspiration in my day to day. and enveloped in that darkness of self loathing and pity that often comes when you live in a basement and disregard much of everything you must do i realized that which is common sense, i have made myself this way. well thats ok. sometimes its good to grieve for the death of a former self. i keep making it up anyway, and i have been forgetting who i am with every breath so its something like the death of a stranger at this point. on the topic: someone i barely knew died last week. it was one of those things where you think you should be sad but you arent quite too sure what you should be feeling so you just kind of feed off the general malaise around you. i would feel fake if i shed a tear for someone whose name i only know. thats probably because in all my years of breathing and glowing i have never opened up to anyone. i dont think i ever cared about anyone, anyone that who isnt my family, anyone who i know would call me to see if im still ok, but they never do. which brings me to say i am sad that everyone i meet is stuck inbetween everything. i came across a girl who sits like an anchor around my chest, but at the same time i could say i will see you go, and so be gone. but then when she is speaking with other guys i feel betrayed. and i ask her who else is trying to love you. and she kisses me. and i feel then like i imagine Jesus did when judas kissed him, but not in the same way. i was going to ask her to dinner but that was someone i knew a long time ago. i guess i should invent, invent, invent, invent like everything else.

two years ago i saw a road sign that said speed limit 65 i was going 90 and thought about driving into the cement barrier that divided the highway from the wilderness. no one would get it though and i wouldnt be around to tell anyone--that being the main idea at the time.

when once i said catch for us the foxes i meant it as a personal endeavor, but not for a collectivized self, a solitary one. yet, so noble am i, the judas, the second son. what was it? all the foreign substances? yes that was what did me in was it? no man! think! it was this paradox, to remain in the light you had to shut everything off, for it all perverts you the moment it touches your skin. yet afterall like a fool you still fell. i couldnt take the solitary confinement dammit! and so i am like a child in a bull ring. or maybe i am the angry bull. the foxes have raped my vineyards of any hares or small happy creatures. the creative edge perhaps lain to rest. well exactly not. it was the other self newton briggs. he was the one pushing me to it all. i stopped listening. we thought it was this great idea to write. for what purpose you ask...i never knew, we just did it. it was supposed to be for everyone so you could write a book or something. you know all that damned work. there is got to be a way out. "the future is coming. can you hear it?" he would say. "yes, it sounds like hell" i would reply. "no no, thats just the idiots next door fraternizing with fate" newt said. "exactly, dear friend, exactly" i would reply. and we had a good laugh. how i miss him sometimes. i dont write him often enough any more. we had ideas for two or three great works of literature. but now we are all so busy busy busy with the life we tired to run from. it was because we both feard of going mad. i wanted to love someone in this world, maybe the next. i wasnt every too sure. i tried any way. so i just need to find someone at the nexus of sanctity and depravity. one who walks lines and pushes for the better. so catch most of the foxes in the vineyard.

vile conspicuous teeth, waiting in the wake of a dream. waiting for me to slip and fall into despair. you would so be inclined as to close around my feet if i dared, so sitting on the edge,
haunted by that indifference, that urges me to go and find myself at the bottom of it all once again, to pretend theres nothing going on here, no nothings going on in here, just a gray mind a placid faced disguise, oh tell me friend do you think sometimes you can never die? so do i, well so do i. scares me to death, ha ha ha, well sometimes i see someone smiling and i know its not me.

cascade from 1996 been tossin and turning since that waterfall, in experimental cures to the inevitable disconnect of this sullied up mind. oh so im wandering. the black people talk outside like lifes just fine, in the projects. where would we be without somebody doing something to someoneelse so we can all talk about whose going to wear the crown of disdain. i want something. something that makes me believe i can endure the here and now. dont pretend everything is distant for you...

im weaing the size medium 16inch inseam mesh high school lacrosse shorts lying bareback against the cool permeating from the 50's lead based painted wall of the house where i currently live. not because its dangerous, but because i am willing to tempt death for sound comfortable night sleep--or really anything to escape the musty smell and heat of this century old house. i only hope its ability to contain heat carries through to the winter--i care little for drafty homes--this from living out in the african bush for a month with the hunter gatherer group called the Hadza. when dwellings were built they were built with stronger intentions of providing shelter than the physicality could perform. that adventure is another story entirely however. but back to the main purpose of this whole thing: i felt that when uncle kurt would talk of certain people being within your karass he was making a play on words about how crass it is that we as a race strive to make meaning and categorize everything. we could say "oh well johnny and i were in the same class in elementary school and now were in college in the same class, must be fate that we know each other...now what?" now what? for some people who have lived a somewhat sedentary existence by a seaside, cornfield, or skyscraper where faces remain changed only by time it is difficult to understand the genious of uncle kurts works involving the curiously humerous invention called a karass. i lived in one place no longer than 2 years from the time i was 0 to 22, well currently. so i see a lot of faces, meet a lot of people when i feel like it, forget a lot of people always, and am endlessly attentive and watching. there are a few souls who by happy mistakes or whatever fate wills for me to discover have crossed my path unwillingly, unknowingly, unexpectedly. from an initial introduction to a face pictured on a wall to crossing paths in work then again else where. in some instances its as if we are all aware something creepy is going on here and so naturally we stitch our lips closedand speak not a word to any of us. then by some circumstance we end up in the same place on the same time. im not talking about things like going some place to eat, i mean things that matter like life plans and how we carry them out. such as how two timelines of life in their entirety overlap. its maddening. only time reveals what purpose was indwelt. i wonder what will come of mine as people come and go i shall be watching with bright eyes, galvanized, to see what new there is to learn to embrace and to live.

i just had a idea about sin. but forgot it. i have been forgetting the little things a lot lately. age is no excuse im 22. and as i was thinking about sin i forgot i was not back in my own home, back east. then i remembered i carry the abatross of a consistent interior design--though it changes every now and again. i purchased the suburbs today. it is the adorned child you are not immediately taken to, but as time passes you grow and understand more, so too the whole damn thing becomes so damn beautiful and you wish you could cry--partly because you missed it the whole time and partly because its so human, and mostly because its all wonderful. i have some plastering of my body to this lead based wall to do.

after all this wanting
burns in your heart and bleeds both your eyes to salt

so goes on this haunting
you will be reborn
a white lion on green green lawns

just as an after thought

im feeling that i could live alone. i belong in some seasoned state of absence. living as a telescope to microscopically confess everything that is questioned. its when i work myself into destructive situations. all of everything that my parents have instilled come with all my joy and sorrow, to inculcate and brand on my mind with their love with their laughter, its the exact same feeling of sudden sinking when you find that youve wronged, or sinned all along. were relatively lost in a relative struggle to maintain our stance to reposition again as a new old plan to reignite the fires of passion to burn the world to a funeral dirth to ashes in urns to sit on some mantel where we watch and learn that passing love is all that matters all that death in selfless action. preaching the sameness.