Sunday, February 28, 2010

i smoked some truth, it was alot stronger than what I had previously had,
im not smoking anymore truth, im getting off the bus here, right here, im off
living hell
poofs of smoke blowing from slanted eyed laughing devils
seductive flashing lights
making everyone beautiful
making everyone dangerous

living hell

Thursday, February 25, 2010

he only has one song now

he heard it in the car on the ten freeway, the freeway is named after a black woman
who wouldnt get off the bus in the 60's, but now it was her freeway
the song started with whistling, he had heard it before, he liked, but now,
he hears it, he really hears it, hes hearing it here, hes hearing it hear
he turned on the yellow blinking thing to say sorry to what he was going to do,
swearving across five lanes, waving, get to the side of the road
this city is her city now, this is the freeway he never used with her
yet i use it everyday, everyday

he pulled the car off the side of the road and turned the stereo up
why has she never seen this freeway?
Im going to stop right here, on the side of the freway
th 10 freeway
before venice
near bundy
im going to stop at the side of the freeway with her and play this song
this song
tell me what is wrong with us?
what did i do wrong?
i haven't changed

what is wrong with you?

tell me tell me tell me tell me

tell me your troubles
tell me what's on your mind

TELL ME

tell me all the thoughts that i can't have

tell me what i haven't noticed

tell me why

tell me why you don't care anymore

tell me how

tell me how to make you stay

tell me what you want me to do

tell me

order me

tell me all the things my mama didn't want me to know

tell me how to buy your smile back
she wanted to keep his sound in her
not hearing anything else until it imprinted

she leaned to the car, wanting to curl up and hug herself
and just listen

to stingy chocolate makers
to wavering scales
to coveting faces pressed against windows
to him

she imagined him reading
his mouth forming the words that came out strand by strand

a piece of heaven
a piece of hell

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

"I don't know what I was thinking. He was a habit. Just a sixteen year older habit that had a car and cash and a bigger playground.
He made me grow up.
He made me grow old. I should have left after the growing up."


And I saw her, pale, with bags under her eyes.

"Girls have a thing with their firsts. I couldn't leave him. I kept going back.
And after all that shit, I couldn't say one thing good about him three months after our three year relationship. I mean who could you blame? He should've known. I was seventeen for christs sake."

Sunday, February 21, 2010

four months of schedules
four months of tax forms
four months of some kind of religion
where the pain and pleasure of the world is mute
four months of embryo
four months of sleep walking and trying not to step into traffic
four months of porn
four months of finding porn that looks like you
four months of wondering if cum can clog sinks
four months of avoiding nothing
of winking at black whores
on roller skates rolling down the side of pch
four months of missing you
billy idol
angry drivers
figs
sex
strawberries
white sheets
candles
red heads (haven't seen any yet)
sex
guitars
grayish blue
ice cream
red hands
lucifer
eggplant
tom robbins

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Eating a box of over the counter chocolate to cap her cravings of true chocolate did her no good. Cheap chocolate just wasn’t the kind of chocolate that would explode in your mouth and fill it with bursts of euphoria. They came in too small packages and were too soft to start with. They just didn't fill.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

1. stay away from women your age, look at Malinda, thats the women your age
2. realize you are at your peek
3. realize your living with death already
4. never park on the other side of the street on wednesdays
5. never forget what it took to get here and start the fucking book already
6. realize your living with death already
7. never trust anyone who's been to Thailand
8. always yell at anyone from Irvine or Monterey Park, we dont need more of them thinking their thinking
9. realize scars is nothing more than cars with an "s"
10. realize your living with death already
11. remember you said you loved her and leave it at that

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

"I have never paid for sex,"
he says, slapping his cock,
trying for an erection long enough to put a balloon over it

"Shit honey, we all pay for sex,"
she says, watching him

Monday, February 15, 2010

the guys come and go
sliding

in and out of her house

in and out of her pussy

parading their droopy dicks

knowing that others have been there
wanting to be the best

or at least the last

she's dry

but once you start its so hard

to end

valentines day 2010

ken and his on again off again girl leah came over on valentines
earlier that afternoon
I got in the car to go down to the beach for a run
but when I saw the row of cars pilling into the parking lot
on what could be called a summers day I turned around, got the skateboard out
and headed for venice, there were thousands of people out, it looked and felt of summer,
today they say its gonna be the same, monday, I will go run this morning, when the weekenders leave, when I feel alone with you, next weekend ken has declared as the weekend of music, no leaving the studio for 12 hours each day, the studio will have two days of beer, chips, and weed, and we are not leaving until its finished...fuck the pain away was a major hit with the valley house, ken played it for me again, "I love the sound of her voice...its so dirty" leah said, when they left I got on the computer to write you when I saw an email from jesus, she hadnt written anything since last summer, in august she said something about coming to la, last summer, asked if I could pick her up at the airport and I told her to give me the date and time, she never wrote back, I never saw her, about eight months later, on valentines day, she sends me an email of her in pictures, in the pictures she looks about 8 months pregnant, big watermelon of a belly, there is a picture of her belly next to an abalone shell, a picture of her belly next to a baby goat, a picture of just the belly, what a strange little valentines day this turned out to be, i will always guess at things between me and her, i will never know anything, yet as i close the computer I have the faintest glance of prophesy, and im writing it out right now so there is a record of it, so months from now, probably within the year, I think the two of you are gonna meet, jesus and jenny, in hawaii, she thinks her pot, home grown, in volcanic soul and sun, is better than anything ken and his labmen can come up with, well see...

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Its winter in Los Angeles and my skin is never really warm.
I am covered in layers and layers until I look like some chicken burrito.
Lights from the television flash in through the half open bedroom door.
You are probably drinking gin and tonic again, strumming that gypsy guitar that your daddy left you.
I am trying to concentrate on millions of women giving birth and snake tattooed lips.

When did music start to have something to say?

I curl up like some hibernating animal and quiver with anticipation whenever I hear paper rustling.
the next song
asleep in your arms
She had singed her hair trying to smoke weed. She stood there, eyes on the weed, confused where the smoke was coming from. The flames had stopped before she realized what had happened.

She saw a ring of white around his grayish blue eyes.
He reached out and brushed off the ashes and crisp strands of hair.
"This is a bad omen"
She laughed.

She was sitting on the counter, legs wrapped around him, wanting more.
She looked up to him. He had stopped moving.
"You have a strand of gray hair"
She waited as he reached out and pulled it out.
He pulled off her wisdom while he was deep and hard in her.

The kitchen smelled of marijuana and blood and sex. There was blood and cum trailing from the white counter to the bathroom, faint traces of heel prints where she had accidentally stepped on the blood. She was standing in the grimy bathtub letting the blood and cum drip out of her, leaving thick pinkish trails on her thighs.
their blood had long been together
she was bleeding all over him
on the counter were stains of red and bile
he rubbed the stain with his index finger
full hard and pressing
waiting for the stain to give

he rubbed out the stain
while she leaked in the bathroom
her legs wouldn't work and she laughed

he liked to feel her quiver
he held himself deep inside her
and gave her the pulse
the shock of being inside her

he sent out a pulse that
circumcision aided in affect
she knew he wasn't trying to cum
and he enjoyed the blood of their sex

her eyes went back into slits of white and convulsion
he held her like this "you have a gray hair," he said
he worked his nerve damaged hands to find the hair
she waited
with him inside her

he found the hair
and took his index finger:
removal, the show,
she looked at it as he resumed fucking her
later on the couch during the tutors
she would tell him he removed her wisdom

he knew they were doing things
neither had seen before
he held the gray hair and stared
at her giving thighs
the light of late afternoon
told him it was the first of several
that he would rip the gray from her
until it grew in places he couldn't reach

he would keep her from death
fuck her in life
and pull all the hairs in between

Sunday, February 7, 2010

crashing cars
wish you didn't have to be in the back seat