i spilled my guts. . . . . . . . . .i spilled my guts
you dont hear much with your ears burned to the side of your face or your head stuck between pillows and half the football team taking thier turn with you like some annual circus ride. the linoleum floor captures the silhouette of you and your vacuum-like mouth caved in tied to a pole with your teeth on fire and me dancing around making shadow puppets on the belly of some pedophile as he cums his life away onto your face. . . . . . . . . . . stability is a dead horse.
what he said. . . . . . . . . . . drop everything in your pathetic life and tell your friends you were drunk when you said you loved me. you are far more beautiful with your face ripped off i carved a hole from the bathroom wall to your bedroom where i get off on watching you try too hard. remember on our anniversary i stretched my vocal chords from here to there i played 'em like a damaged violin and the birds came crashing down for us. your reflection is the peeled-back skeleton of some fucked up held captive concentration camp employee.what he said
. . . . . . &
wept. . . . . . . . . . . . . thighs spread wider then the smile i wear you swarm bed to bed like some hive of bees in their gathering process. shoot yourself in the fucking ankles and meet me on the floor we can pick through your vomit and count how many 45 year old drunks had the time of their life in your mouth last night. dear needle arms, is this how you show you love me? i will be hugged by the front end of a train you can find me in three million pieces sleeping with the worms. we are cancer captured in a jar. p.s im dead. . . . . .wept
date raped a ghost. . . . . . . . . . . . . the bumper wore your ribcage and all like some badge of fucking honor earned in cubscouts. do you remember what it was like to be so young? a womb laced with crack plays an important role in ones memory of his early childhood &ndate raped a ghost
Finally, a poet who can depict emotion in the correct manner.
I'm not sure, but, this could be the sign of the death of the "cut my wrists and black my eyes" generation.
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10/11/04
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repentance is vomitting.
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