1.31.2011

Day 19 (Financial, Notes, Vogel, and Understanding are the words I just read but not in that order)

Cryptic is my emotional discharge coded language and pretentious referencing of the upper echelon wrought with quotations and paraphrases to yield some sort of praises in this free verse seldom rehearsed collecting of words that frequently borders the absurd thoughts wrapped in feelings sliced and diced into a fine companion to Merlot and smooth jazz but is this sophistication or simply mental masturbation? 
Tongue in cheek is the only way I have ever found acceptance in a world where personality comes from Macy's in aisle three next to the hand bag perfume and toaster set but god damn if that wouldn't look great next to the spice rack I've never used because I only know how to cook frozen food but there is a chance in hell Ill live to die from cancer I just hope they let Gucci design my chemo drip bag.
Rind stones make me happy they sparkle and shine like the blinking eyes of the divine deities of lost Grecian faith they usually leave in a state of dazed confusion a little lost in my lovely illusion someone once told me one God is better than 10 and Nietzsche says god is dead and necessary to invent Descartes lost and found god in the course of a weekend and wrote a book about it now its a required reading for those proceeding to higher education.
And my life seems targeted stretched across the Wal-mart cart driven high quality inn living 300 hundred thread count sheets covering hammer toed feets that spent the day in Birkenstock which are German and that's in Europe so of course its Superior to other brands of a similar variety and though their Malaysian factory is just a block away the quality is assured by the standards of the highly paid or is it sought after fuck whats it matter the point is that I need a new way to consume a thousand calories in 10 minutes is there somehow we could wrap bacon with lard and deep fry it without blotting the grease just make sure and add a tomato I don't want to be obese.
Dear god or gods I just hope I live to be deceased.

1.27.2011

Day 18 (Requiem for Winter)

A single solitary breath slips slow past over and down slick wet throat lost hope to float down to lung's inflating ego and here lies the ease and purpose of the forgotten lives on a molecular level but the beveled edges of a societies clean clipped hedges never can determine your futures fate we all start with the clean plate and hammer toe and over time and with age our honesty fades into a plastic smile pasted over our sullen and woe begone Anima.
And it's the stiff upper lip chin upheld communicable disease affecting out social self conscious so we cling to hand puppets and poetry til we reach a vegetative state can't hardly wait for the pastures golden grazing lands just beyond the welcome mat at the retirement community aptly named for the colorful charm it so seemly lacks beyond the family welcoming center where they provide a cup of orange juice and a cookie to all who inquire.
Touching the emotional side can bruise pride indent flesh its a mess must hide deny derail the train before it runs over you and splatters family and friends with remains and brain matter dear god crawl and hide it's so fucking scary outside the black cat licking up the fat of the land just waiting to cross a path you set last month or was it a day ago time is stale like this mornings toast and no matter what you do there wont be a comedy central roast.
And there are no indentations or apostrophes here a self reflexive statement for the purpose of abatement but the who what and for lost in the fog and mist of this lack of solidarity but calm your running mind the gentrification has begun and all that is frightening will soon be starbucks and target combinations to make ease for buying sugar flavored coffee hand soap and the box set of Alf to feed childish nostalgia.
Wrapped in our blanket of comfort food we rest assured to muted sounds and image flicker it's cold and it's winter.

1.26.2011

Day 17 (Five things found on napkins in my pocket)

Thing 1:
Digging and pulling flesh for some simple understanding please let me know and be a part of this collective Miss-giving my third eye is blinking yawning for some clarity but my aperture is in fixed position and I'm flapping like a flag to pull in the patriot.

Help me I'm hungry for (writing intelligible)

Thing 2:
Here in my bog I slip into a tight wrenching confusion why am I here to dance for your pennies I have nothing to buy I just need a liquid fix to fuse with my mind and blur my vision of your hand in hand... our slow waltz begins a tango to eternal nights exquisite ball.

Thing 3:
'Tis the Season we purchase that which will own our paper tiger souls fill the holes and voids therapy suggested we need cover up so wrap it up with a bow and for once try and give a fuck.

Thing 4:
Dipstick mother fucker get stuck on brother tickers fine chicken selection.

Thing 5:
Public transportation impatient determined complacency.

Day 16 (I love mornings)

The periodic table of your emotional tail wrapped slow around the fickle limb of fascination within your slow coffee drip morning routine of ligiment stretch and yawn.
Slow walk through silent halls brings the nothing much of your impending activity to clear morning fog holding light captive in simple drops of life's long found liquid.
The questions of where, what and when roll through your mind like so many waves crashing gently on sandy banks, eroding simple lines and reclaiming what could have been.
The here the now give way to a future tension and perplexion displayed by muscle's fine merrit badge winning knot and face's fine new crow's foot line.
With each day you lease ownership of your stretched tight facial features to year's hostile takeover stock option buy out proceedure.
But this is life unless you feel the need for knifes slice and quick adjustment to fleshes natural course.

1.21.2011

Day 15 (I have a special relationship with my Ikea Catalog)

If I am what I eat my spine is a liquid yogurt and wheat germ protein powder concoction here to slide slowly to a successful state of mind over body but to the matters at hand which are worth more than two in a bush and its entire past due administration to the point skin composed of a banana and some green powder I bought at whole foods when the pretty lady batted a tender lentil based eyelash my way a smile wink and nod before I put another organic fruit or vegetable into my gullet and choke on the extra pennies for the apparent lack of chemical interference.
1 in 4 will fall victim to cellular suicide so we might as well enjoy the slow ride up.
But fuck it which is funnier said than read and only if you take on a childish persona anyway before I waft like a wind blown aroma there was a point to prick minds eager eye for sweet tear drop and tender liquid lover or something tapping into the poetic and Divine musings of a collected articulation of the human experience which seems so diverse and undefined though according to the theological teachings of the followers of crossed sticks all this shit is planned and laid out before us in a euphoric path that we must blindly tread as followers in the flock of woolly white creatures who drown in their own water dishes.
1 in 4 will commit cellular suicide, but for the rest of us there is a nice plush hospital mattress dripping poison into soft vein draining currency from pockets simple arithmetic chemical drain on society but socializing health care and accepting male on male relationships killed the dinosaurs put a hole in the ozone or so I am told.

1.20.2011

Day 14 (I ate bad meat)

Patron saint stain on flesh's confused canvas will you save me more over will you betray me? And how is it I can trust what I lust after? The patient waiting for blades slick and baiting shimmer and shine is it mine all mine? Can you stab slow into my soft putty? Slice section and segment this fast enigma.

Fear the helping hand and welcome the slow burn.

We dangle on this fine silk woven from some simple worm and we dine on the unfertilized with every wake and rise. 

In the dark water drains from our collective eye, slow slide down curved porous place it navigates to the unknown while we search for false comfort purchasing plastic smiles at the nearest chain proclaiming local support its chic to care so pay the price live the life no paper or plastic but simple cloth ad expression of our sprint to and from depression.

Suns quick glint on steamed windows tint the glimmer of hope in a fog of nothing much weighing down and bending brittle bone to new shapes and contingencies the snap crackle pop rings through broken and clogged drums beating for futures past tense nostalgia for what was never really there.

Tie yellow ribbon tight around swollen and exposed throat crush larynx and asphyxiate. 
Manifest Destiny

1.18.2011

Day 13 (What I scratched into my office desk with a broken paper clip)

Grey sky bleeds into grey walls surrounding the tapped and tamed imagination but its patience that persevered to guide this blind hand to beating chest to focus on the the pain because when you leave it will be all that will remain and its mine all mine this selfish one breath line traced down plastic wall to find the linoleum dream dark desolate and overjoyed the room sways the blink and murmur of your tragic ends slow crawl to the fore front of your dream flicked minds eye.
oh please
oh my
slice and slide my way to pull a heart string or two my fascination is simple in line with your oscillation hip move and displace let me out of this area I hate this place finger nails break against cold carpet torn capillary blood red wet stain soak through to keyboards click clack and heartfelt message zero one zero sign off the drowned out instant message blackened lung screams for our cyborg dreams and here in the corner of my blind eye lies the fragile pedal of societies forgotten flower float and fly its way to the earth to be encased lye fore both hope and soap float and dissipate to meet a water bound. 

1.16.2011

Day 12 (Ode to a girlfriend I have had or will someday have you decide)


Deep and dark the curious swirl of your bitter aluminum whipped skin desolate is your sweet sultry canvas taught between ceramic borders dark deep pool of my lost understanding long stare and finger search the calm sleek features that surround you

travel down

travel down this eager pallet

slick you wash away my sinful nature from my simple hand to my harbored feelings I think I've lost control a prisoner to this dark confection my lustful intention has me gagged and bound while you travel down this simple feature

1.13.2011

Day 11 (Morning without coffee)

Disgust we discussed to determine the shallow depth of our perpetual kiddy pool of dream splashing water wings flap hard on surface tension stretched hard over canvas the last step and first regret of our low fever pitched screenplay

Fast hand couldn’t grab and hold slick tail fell fall and fail

Slow drip quick sip simple slip

Left me lost in the right hand column of your determined refrain and disillusioned distain cut my veins in search of fast pulse tender beating fleeting moment of our slow desire the quag and the mire holy sinking vessel fleshy temple with no soul to save.

1.10.2011

Day 10 (Questions of a rhetorical fashion)

Slip fast crash through my evenings last laugh the feature operation has failed to pass the time honored test and tradition of nothing much and its long lost creation shed a tear from dry ducts taped and sealed for signed delivery status this package never sent but filled to the brim with the child’s simple hope to repent before mythical bearded beast and mothers calm cool hand.
I want to cry a river so I can get off this land but it seems to close for contact lenses to pull soft focus and pan the bitter torture scene so placid while flesh slips fast from its jilted muscle lover.
Images dance and hover overhead to beg my attention to what could have been in life’s past interpretation and current fascination but the light blinks through my yawning thin skin, a waning aperture longing for some celluloid to taint with these blurred representations of what could soon be a day end dream scape painted in crayon.
Push hard nail through soft skin to provoke some sense of logic but nothing more than the red drip so realistically painting a picture of my pending mortality across mashed pulp confection.
I slice gentle hour down minute by minute until I can see each screaming second.
My dance is slowly ending this tango on a fault line.
Please lend me cold shoulder to profess my endless whine.
Heart palpitates the slow render of my accent to the divine
Please quench my fickle thirst
Please calm my raging mind
Let me hold onto this nothing
Let me fall into the void
Let me find comfort in the fall

1.03.2011

Day 9 (Hippy in the city)

Here we are in precious wasted time clawing at our heaving veins while searching out a way to avoid animal flesh and those bulbous tear filled eyes of the inflated chest wielding models plastered to the side of our gas guzzling transportation devices wheels churning dinosaur burning their way into the future.

We dance on the slow wave crash into the climate of a culture meant for swift change in a rotary fashion compared most eloquently to the slicing wonder of the lawn mowers blade as it tares the tender green tops off our ever growing grass collection to achieve the aesthetic protection that breeds the prideful swollen chest of the balding male found on page three of this months Sears catalog, and in the end no one sheds a tear for Roebuck and his mighty fall from shimmering monthly mailbox entry.