…and who are you ever going to hate more than you hate yourself?

 

GIVING IT AWAY FOR FREE FOR 24 HOURS!

 

As always, it starts at 12:01 on Dec 1^st.

 

New e-chap, fun for the whole goddamn family.

 

If you don’t thank me, your mother will.

 

history lesson

 

and both of us in love beneath

the same dying sun and i am only

sorry there isn’t more time

 

i am only sorry for the

distances both

real and imagined

 

we are moving too fast through

whatever days we have left

poem of ordinary fear

 

and everyone

everywhere

wreathed in blood

 

this war and

then that one

 

monday and

then tuesday

 

someone’s son as he

smiles, laughs,

rapes a 12 year old girl

 

makes a video of it

for his friends

 

for his fans

 

and the 12 year old girl

left w/ the rest of

her life stretching out in

front of her, and then

the temperature

suddenly up into

the 90s

 

no warning

 

no premonition

 

old woman at the end

of the street found

dead in her

flower garden

 

sky streaked w/ pollen

filled w/ the

afterimage of angels

and no sign of christ and

no word from morrison

and after 30 years i am

finally tired of being

yr failed suicide

 

i am sick of yr regret and

yr apologies and

i’m writing this

i guess

to tell you i won’t be

writing anymore

 

i’m asking for nothing

                           really

which is all either of

us ever offered

the other

 

strange that it seemed

like so much more

at the time

someone better than you, someone more honest than me

 

in the soft, weightless beauty of

de chirico sunlight

 

in the silence of his shadows

 

we are not quite ghosts here,

and we were never really lovers

 

is this right?

 

and freedom, anymore, is a

bottomless lake filled with corpses

 

it’s the necessity of taking sides

and how did this come to be?

 

who do we have to kill to

turn our own beliefs into law?

 

figure this out

and the future is yours

[The mission is mighty but the foundation is hollow]

 

some good fucking laughs in the landslide of passing days

 

pinned down in the upstate desert,

all the same old dreams of suffocation,

of being lost,

of the house falling apart like

wet cardboard

 

this woman i knew who hated herself

yet swore she loved me

 

twenty years of silence and then

a letter from her husband

telling me exactly how i was going to die

 

thirty years of driving down

unpaved roads past nameless trailer parks

where only suicides waited

 

and you call what you’ve lived

a life

but maybe you’re a liar

 

maybe we all are

 

point the gun wherever you want

i guess

and just pull the trigger

 

there’s always time

to apologize later

on the occasion of giving up completely

wake up after the rain in
the same place you’ve always known
and wait to feel clean

time is not your friend here

you are only loved by those
who get something in return

think about your father here
and then think about
the emptiness he left behind

is it smaller than you expected?

can it be cupped gently
in bleeding hands?

listen

fear is a given in
any equation

the next storm is already forming
just over the horizon

doesn’t take a genius to see
we’re all fucked,
but it feels so good sometimes
to just sit back and
close your eyes