Written at 25

I work through images
They fill my head with romance
And dreams
Dirty at times
It's the focus
But it makes no sense
Where do I come up with these things?
Moving pictures
I'm happy you're here to keep me company
There is depth and passion
With all the silly I do
You're underwater pool
I have picked my face raw
the mini buttercream cupcakes are starting to set
I'm hungover on my knees unplugging a printer
in front of the whole goddamn office
as I screw in light bulbs
I hate the person who came up with the "how many ___ does it take
to screw in a light bulb"
it's hard to look professional
when you struggle inches away from another human being
at least at my desk I can curse and collect myself.
I love being brutally honest
but can only be on paper
I need the control that paper has
the old filipino artist-man and his dog chewy are at the park again
I'm too depressed to talk
I bum a cigarette and walk away
chewy gnaws roast beef
his dog is nice he says
as if we've never met
we met once
have seen them maybe zillion times
I prefer to be alone
put my finger on the outside of my lip
and contemplate the day

why did I sell everything I own
it didn't mean anything at the time
just things
there was that picture of the girl who's arm looked like a dick
I loved that picture

The girl at the screen

There is a girl inside me

in my stomach

she is me.

She sits and stares at a screen

an old dusty comp from the nineties.

It has a black backdrop

and weird yellow writing.

I hide around the corner

in a small pink hallway

trying to get a peek

of that screen.

She does not look at me

only the screen.

I want to know what is on that screen!

It holds everything about me

I need to succeed

but my body is a place foreign to me

and poking around the corner,

this me is not ready.

The girl at screen is dignified

people probably take her seriously

(when not staring at a screen).

I imagine her to be one of those people we all see:

walking around tall drinking coffee.

walking about town

on their way somewhere

somewhere going

they always know where they are going

and what they are doing is important

important and dignified and caffeinated

more important

than what everyone else is doing.

They don't care to stare

at the shoes

of strangers

on a bus

they are very busy

time is very valuable

and they love coffee.


Paintbrush plump with watercolor

smudged ink on a wet piece of paper

from a fingertip.


Gravity has made this possible

to bleed

to drip

to run

to soak

to fall.

It has formed an irregular

impressionistic pond.

To one side

it is more violent.

The rest is rimmed with ease. A ring of


looking on the inside

a nauseating color.

it gets grainy and pixelated

diseased looking.

The middle (as big as halves of two fingers)

flesh tinged yellow.

It tries to be flesh but it is not

this yellow means


Untitled april 25th

half deep into my smoking habit

I began to braid

it lasts loose-tight.

youthy at first

cracked locks









long ago.

I thought I was good with


alternate universe's


secured locks safe

(ex-roommate seeing me in a black and white picture of a mid woman some-park in Paris)

coiled fur were to unfurl

wind widdle one

now brokenshaped

more obsessed than before

makes nonsense

scared flurry alone talking exposed

where to go

for at least a couple hours

to settle

into exuberance

heavy fray

up and down

loose to tight

murky murky sea of drenched clenched

every pulley

taps me into instructions

on how to: disappear

My Boring Spongy Organ

"I want to touch your boring spongy organ."

"why?" I say. "That's gross

"It's smooth and nice."

"How do you know?"

"Everyone has a smooth boring spongy organ at some point, you're in your prime."

"Stop thinking about smoothness. I wish I didn't have a smooth boring spongy organ. Stop staring!"

"It's just so beige."

"Put away your big eyes or I'll get out out my knife."

"Okay, but i'll exchange my eyes for something else."

(laughter) "what is that? It looks like a pink kaleidoscope!"

"Why don't you get closer and look at the shapes and colors?"

"Alright, those red dots are real pretty. I've never seen those before."

"Can I touch your boring spongy organ now?"

"Yes, if I can play with your kaleidoscope."

(motions yes and spongy organ girl gets closer)

It smells weird, I don't think I want to do this anymore."