
COPYRIGHT: DETOX
they crack your skull
and pour it in
an allusion,
illusional,
elusive
she cracks some sad whip
the poor muck rucks come
raking out
the leaves are brown
the wind near the river
is exceptional
whipping about
grassy potted plants play piano
from underneath, with the upper-concrete
i havent even smoked weed
i just describe what i see
from a train in the rain
boys enter, its three o’clock
they reek of pungent vinegar
it best describes their sour acne
i am sickened and can’t breathe
and my mother’s fear of my being hurt
stops my search before it begins
she prevents those hecklers by
keeping me jarred
but i am AJAR and cute boys keep
asking me out on dates
but MALE BOAR ODOR is NOT
what i want in a mate.
the loose train has fifteen tracks
i am on all of them
like an octopus
doing fantastic disco renditions
of gin blossoms songs
people in general have no idea
what anything means
this is a dream
if i had the money id buy a new notebook
id parade around a shocked look
an evil grin
a kind expression, to manifest some
type of impression
i am not here
but in another place
i only let certain people visit
no one knocks down my door
anyhow
the brown cow
moo’s off my face
i eat him anyway
and watch some shit off netflix
just because: fuck it
rev gave me her password.
(AND JUST AS A SIDE NOTE
the next day i fucked the whole
netflix thingy up from watching too much
30 rock or something).
CLOSE EXIT
November 9, 2009

Copyright: DETOX
some laugh track
in the background
imbues
the starving ghosts
are an emblem
within which
the masculine witch
resides
a high tide surfaces
as seemingly happy families
knock each other over
to make way
well, I SAY
this crude nightmare hardly begins
and its filled with
neverending, full-faced grins
technicolor spins
my laces are untied
when im stoned im uncomfortable
you cant look me in the eye
i cant look you in the face
where are we?
what is this place?
well, I SAY
i wont be much longer
with each deep inhalation
im figuring out
how to figure things out
my brain is in some deep recession
i eat meals like harrison ford in blade runner
every night for dinner
i type into a box to communicate thought
my alchemy eyes have given up the potion
mixed in a chemical seal
i have revealed an emotional layer
boys on the other hand are natural players
i wear my heart on my sleeve
i get up and leave
fastidiously out the door
comfortable with exits.
CONCRETE ZIPPY ZOOMS
November 4, 2009

COPYRIGHT: DETOX
this area pours onto me
the street is my example
shrouds circle emphatic figures
mimicking dance routines
lamped by an urban glow
i flow like this
windowed
turbines are cemented fixtures
with surrounding trees scant
between old, forgotton railways
where the homeless lay
the people make a fast dash past
shuttling harmlessly
they have jobs, you see
i am in a sea
and in the dark my waves
are memory laden of some place
a fully charged graffiti wasteland
i see a city past a river
its buildings are quite tall
seemingly this city has it all
but underneath its bluff and gruff
lies the foam of sham
its not who i am
or what you are
i stare off into the zips
my fleets are soundtracked
by blips
no holster to hurriedly capture
my flipping you off
no camera encapsulates my scoffs
because i don’t make light
i am here in my plight
studying people
gawking at concrete
feeling incomplete
having the taste for something sweet
suckling on the dirt and sheet rock
that compiles a life
within construction and discarded
ever so inter-connectedly
trees leaves grass and images of such things.
November 2, 2009

Copyright: DETOX
the rolling skies are rocky hills
demolishing my retina stare
through a screen
everything is green with pink embers
i was so high i can’t remember
how it looked for real
i cannot feel past the lower extremities
parts of me are peices passing through
a new envisionment
most of me is old wet and tampered with
too fat for you
too fat for school and life
but not pink trees or pink cigarettes
my mind frets
i am transported, suddenly, to another setting
like mars or the jetsons or something
cuddly and cartoonish
all that acid from highschool i never took
CATCHING UP WITH ME1!
and then i vanish back into this picture, back to two years ago when i still felt somewhat fresh, before my puppydog heart was crushed into kibbles n bits by a cruel girl. back when things were ok and tree’s were pink, back then i think that i had it all but i was seriously just as miserable. it’s a constant and perpetual. the past, if we could all just live in the past where we see ourselves as “happy”. too much of living in the past will kill you, i say. too much fantasizing about the future will get you in trouble. the present is OH SO VERY BORING. so what’s to be done?
i love to fantasize, i love fantasy. I AM FANTASTICAL. im fantastic.
noway plz dont say
October 26, 2009
90 degrees on the tops of trees
i fixate strange clouds in a succession
they trickle downward
as i press a button
slurpy and glurpy
tell tales behind my back
they make nummy num faces
and chew on cows
out of big bowls gigantic stargazers
droop sadly for our entertainment
we are at the edge of our seats
in dramatic enjoyment
i am floppy and buoyant
enjoying every minute of this
hostile environment
laughing loudly at the horror
the seconds make way unto minutes
pronounced by the loud shouts of time
and we recognize him by his odd hat
as time tends to wear such things
time says something like:
“its coming on three minutes now” or
“it’ll be a half hour soon” and i’m
growing bored of him
he seems to think i want to hear
his opinion but i hate him
i feel grim, i am a button to be pushed
he is slapping me around with his personality
my thoughts turn from cherry to grape
the walls are very thin, and i am within them
neighbors shout in different languages
but what do they say?
im so sour with delight
i squeal with muddy zeal
ill let you pulverize my eyes
and then cover them with ice
we are here to watch you wear
those tantalizing skirts
spin and spurt
before us
oh plz give me greaze
oh my plate keep me safe
from your harm, im becoming
something else, very soon.
YOU SEE THESE MOM’S ON TV EVERY DAY
October 25, 2009
they arrange you in tiny cupboards
so the visitors can see
just how charming you appear
in such pretty dresses
so polite to sit so quiet
in a small box
you have small pox?
i can’t hardly notice!
how charming! yet how awful
for the mother…
how does she do it?
she stuffs you so coarsely
into that cabinet
its become some force of habit
for you both
the mother grins
to your chagrin you are stuck
as she plucks
your feathers clean
shes not mean
but over blown
you cannot win or
try to compete
a winner’s attitude
admit’s defeat.
but it’s not as if she’s a monster
just a mother.
GET A JOB
October 23, 2009
booming out the bursting windows
of a forgotten time
the ancients make hastey waves
smoking on vilianous leaves
stuck together with spit
out of car windows
sprung together like springs
mystical earth creatures
the music is so amazing
you can hear it from your bedroom
zooming right past you
loud and fantastic
your mom fucking hates it
i am young and free and falling over
neon clothing
no one told me
life was like this
as a child i was spiteful
always grabbing onto knives
and watching a clockwork orange
always writing in my notebooks
now im staring at how folks look
in subways and on light rails
and im studying conditions
enveloping transmissions
because i find life to be so funny
funny little bunny
i laugh at sad dudes
who drive their wives to work
its only friday morning
i giggle at people who don’t know
how to be free
because i am it, and always have been
but oh so stuck
contradictions
the human experience
and if i wrote a book about this
i might just be rich
i am a genius
drunk sick and feeling like
some mad savant
some jackson pollock of a person
poised to be recognized after death
everything from here on is flipped
so we forget, and tied to broken steps
sliced on open car wrecks
so everyone can get a close look
peering out their open car windows
symphonic radio orchestras pierce
in and out of clarity
the sound escalates from loud to soft
i am sitting there in bits and peices
please everyone just take a peek
nobody ends up looking at me,
all they see is a blurred wreck
nothing posthumously stands before them
menacingly
just a blur of a car that once was…
just chunks of metal and shit.
i am wanting to IMPRESSION something
but i dont know what, nothing specific.
HARRY POTTER ANALOGIES LIKE CRAZY
October 20, 2009

nobody understands harry potter
oh especially snide little nasty boys
who pooh pooh everything
without even knowing
anything
simply assuming
snippy little malfoys
small frightful things
boy toys and cartoons
geetars and hillbilly notions
envelope into repungnant potions
that push people away
not that it matters
NOT THAT DRACO CARES
that his actions might be hurtful
he has his guitars and girls
he has other languages to escape into
he has rock music to fantasize about
but he dosent have harry potter
harry potter wants nothing to do with draco
and DETOX is totally HARRY POTTER
in this analogy.
Nervous Life Shit
October 17, 2009
they spit the valve creeks
turning tricks in salty mines
insects crawling up their spines
hot with shame
right as rain
digging deep this feeling sleet
slippery slope
loss of all hope
from down they came
clinking and clanging
clambering
im in tight jeans
tight fitting
loosely wound up
open ended sentences
nobody mentions this
you pass me up in the hallway
just like everyone
passes everyone else
because that’s what the world is
im sick of how things work
and all i have is words
to express my inner-workings
i am lost in a large crowd
and everyone else speaks
another language
i am being quite literal
i have no time for the physical
only the metaphysical
i do not remember names or faces
only embraces, ultimate beings
are the things i am seeing/seeking
nobody gets this
im getting real restless
lets see, how else can i express this…
ill write a song with lyrical prowess
ill doodle fancifully as if that
will kill my unrest
ill design and rhyme and dance and sing
ill bring to the table what others hardly bring
ill shit and spew and laugh and giggle
and act as if im not real
but i am
and its the worst shock
to realize myself all alone
and growing older
and lonlier
what the fuck do i do?
THE ONE I WROTE IN THE PSYCH WARD ABOUT GRETA GARBO
October 15, 2009
Greta Garbo
Swilling that thick
Swedish face
all over our collective
Hollywood past
She is a Bently formed from
from working man’s
ford bones
her engines creak
ever so suspiciously
I am thinking of her
like family or close
personal consiglere
since we are from
the same country
but in other ways I
think of us as just
the same
hiding from some sense
of self we portray
on a screen or
in a dreem
in front of thousands of fans
who do not understand
why should they?
and, garbo, i am
just as bad because
i am so dubious to be curious
i want to know more
about how boring you were
because i want to be
boring too
like you!!
im almost there but this
psych ward thing got in the way.
so they say you were gay
or bisexual or a-sexual
or something ——- BUT
none of this matters to me
as long as you ate pussy!!!!!
and so i havent read about you
in quite some while
but here i am again
and im thinking “damn greta,
you were so dope!!”
because flowing amber locks
swept across lithe eyes
and softened features
accentuated such soft lips
that swedish face filled with grace
and if we were related
we could have still been kissin’ cousin’s
had the advent of time travel
made it so we could meet
age appropriately.
i would have wrote you
a lovely poem mentioning
something adorable i may have
noticed you doing
you would look at me, sillily…
OH GRETA, JUST STOP
BEING DEAD ALREADY!!!!!

