down in me

in my aloneness i have often thought about balance re: progress.

experiment
take a giant social issue and put little bear cubs on all sides in a circle and have them tug-of-war every which way. as long as cubs push and cubs pull things will always turn out fine, even for the cubs that get hussied up in clown’s clothes.

i am fine this life is fine.

occasionally i am pleased with this consistent low-level hum of suffering. a pain a pain a pain and then a moment to think: life is this i am this life. pretty cool, right? if i look at it all at once the snowball will flatten my face. so no rules or plans but a consistent little chug-along plug-along and you can blame that shit on the sun. i feel like one thousand and seventy-three pounds of excrement. life is shit i am this shit. but also not, right?

cigarettes
in case you are still worried i remind you that my skin though marked is whole.

orgasm
in conclusion, should anyone have a kind connection of that certain kind, i could use a hit to dull the edges so hit me. up.

recommended reading
pee on water
vasily and chang
anchor book

in your face i do not care for i am happy. and what problem is it of yours if i take a tab or twenty-five, if i hustle in the nights if you are incapable of laughing anyway. a magic mistress misses the distance between herself and the furor of her pursuers. but i am not magic. i am see-through and tired and alone.

and it’s godly when you love everyone you meet. sick sweet when you feel the reflecting flesh and you think this is nice and everyone is good and we will all be happy in caring for each other. forever. when you are soaked up to the shoulders and no one can see you that is a good thing.

meanwhile my bark dries and peels and the promise of fruit is distant in the current. it can be spring or may or june but my pollen has ceased pollinating. i will flower given the energy to grow which may be never. i will invent a secret story and play it as my petals drift.

I HAVE SEVERE SOCIAL ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION, I want to shout. THE ONLY WAY I AM STANDING HERE IS WITH THE HELP OF SOME AMOUNT OF ENTACTOGENS AND ALCOHOL. And there hasn’t been enough alcohol but no one is listening.

The reason I don’t like to sit down is that I’m afraid I might not be able to get up again, that this heavy sad will pin me to the chair forever or maybe not forever but just make it kind of embarrassing and uncomfortable for me to get back up again. Like when running you stop for air and to start again is harder because you’ve lost momentum and your body remembers how it is to not run.

Someone says something and a bouquet of flowers blooming in my chest is choking me and I feel a million things at once that I am not able to separate concretely but on top of all those things is a thin layer, like a dusting or a fog that dulls everything.

I want to engage sincerely and it hurts that what I most want and probably need is what my body physically rejects. That just to speak takes so much energy because I have to simultaneously try to still the pounding of the heart in my ears and behind my eyes and regulate my breath and these simple activities take my focus from you because my nervous system is uncontrollable.

Imagine if we had to consciously breathe and make sure to pump blood all the time to not die, what else would get done.

A whole year of beautiful books and handmade chapbooks, including this love is office lighting, penned by everyone’s favorite insecure, narcissistic cumbucket (i.e. me) for 35 bucks (45 outside America, which is a fucking amazing deal re: shipping is a total bitch).

Get it then we can fantasize that we broke into J. A. Tyler’s office and bondage-gagged him to the swivel chair and stole the books and had our way with everything, okay?
 >>

need i say more?

okay i’ll say more. long have i admired elimae for beauty. can’t lie, i feel pretty validated right now, like almost i don’t feel guilty for using up earth space and oxygen. this doesn’t happen often and it doesn’t ever last.

the story is about puppies sort of. it came from a mass of confusion in my belly. it just welled up like tears, bled out like sweat. can’t help being serious: i really really hope you enjoy it.

>> BOY