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asylum rum the death of communication language seeps in to the soil with purulent snow spilled drink cola soggy cigarette filters reject mind candy the death of the individual individuality is pulled apart like a five winged butterfly in a child's fingers each day a new genius is exposed and turns into dusty and particles simply i desperately try to hide my small pot belly in my crooked man's bed frame from women i pass everyone must do some thing the dearth of religion like a child who outgrows the festooning borders of canterbury or grimm fairy tales the death of genuine emotion it has been replaced with medication the only two shades of man now (at least the latter mentioned) the unmedicated and the medicated the only battle to be fought now on america's gentle soul is the was of the cigarettes- how many are you smoking? war of the alcohol how much do you drink? war of the drugs was of popularity war of the genitals but the right kind of pill can fix all my nurse just changed my wristband art is dying, not evolving who cares less bullshit to muddle us smiling or upset sitting or laying down standing pacified in our rooms sober and wielding a chic acerbic abstemious warhol wit painfully mutilated into tongue in cheek bored pacifism i rebel only with indifference i've started medication or else they won't let me out of the can dying generations squeeze their eyes closed in dismay rather to be with memories than with false reality sugar drawn and dressed in the latest styles let them die our lives are devoid we are well groomed livestock set aside to dawdle and dwindle from windows watching sky pull smoke like the collective breath from thousands groaning silent white plaster walls style for men to get a shape removed from their skull in the shape of a puzzle piece like a tattoo they are then without personality they are blanched imitations of human beings do vaguely human things don't understand any of life still cups of water on the table voices murmur halls laughter behind doors that dries out the brain white tennis shoes linoleum white window polite hired souls to wipe rust and earwigs from the ripe brain stuck splinters wig under bush strictly a writer lost in the smokestack lift flex skies mouth walked ajar past bad soured wine and oil mixture rotten tooth smiles lips chewing bit of enamel crumble mixed saliva stain cloth paranoid mocking smiles kind to conceal gossip lust paranoid brain ugly wire silt to describe a wall with fervent emotion and cracker jack prizes when the food was eaten by mouths in the ground the savant became swollen with blood and walked into the famine where was speared open and his blood walk guzzled mouths dust to drop digging in the earth years in the same place to find plant watermelon send miles into salt water the ground peal lies open june peel stth leits open with a spoon a hateful war rages between two men trying to kill each other with ad to dseun san crumb it well to ekilchtohe r wesff collapse two men to trying is to kill each other vengefully with paper bags and become more ravenous with each failed attempt lay back small face in my throat mute scream digestive grunt incorrect punctuation sentence formulaive i've got to get out of this skunk's nest cookie jar can fuck off words as empty as my eyes poetry mocks life life lived pale lights intrusive eyes lust beats walls eyes warning wanton rage remove do not add he was unfortunate i've seen beyond the alchemy and its impossible to put into words all things being change without warning and at any given time all things being are themselves in addiction to something else where there exists a shoe there exists a lightbulb a lip a torn leaf and words without spelling meaning or designation flow unravel like the leaves of a tree in oscillation every slightest sensation to each component comprising can be conducted into words and letters can be conducted into mosiacs lifes strange describing and let it go let it die like yourself, let it go despite incredibly vain simpleton harmless lunatic content for hours listening clock seconds beating inside dim lit ward room listening to mozart a few pills to the wind bad poetry celine proust started anti depressants and if i ever had words blood to be given they have dried out like leaves in autumn to perceive life as they request of you means that a chair is only a chair and the sun sanctioned wants passing molds as dead as they seem and your art is as bad as your afraid it might be head spins aria full fatigue triumphs over my sleeping body abd wgen i awake on the outside ill feed my medication to the birds and play with a stone in an alley with alfred jarry- far words drawn from impression they draw from the brain the drawing fish brain from the valley filled with rain tree grasp soon dark knits watch was hassled by his boss at work cry couldn't afford eyesight doctor never spoke but had an imagination like a tiny furnished kitchen innocent was the mindless slave of the can faced broad living down the hall with the jug of wine as sour as her face billouette forgot everything he knew each time he heard a sound kissedher was once a great artist but visit mental hospital one day acute pain and afterwards was a great cashier wheelchair stole five dollars one day and never felt the same stubbcup couldn't seem to get over my sleeping body rid of his cough go was miserable in his face tihgo gave away all his money because wanted friends vilv built a sandcastle up to the sky and it rained before anyone could take a look and i cant smoke a cigarette and its impossible to write in here cause the nurse checks on me every five minutes and they wonder what i'm doing and i need to feel better cause i feel patronized and shit almost stabbed someone before i came in everyone here smirks me down i'm not here cause i'm upset about not being in a boy band i'm not upset because i'm not on television i'm not upset because i lost my favorite cd i don't find that funny or pretty please die i'm not happy this is my misery the one thing i have left to myself i don't want to wander around with a capacity for complete false optimism and no other emotions to experience what are we doing? just shut the fuck up, stop it please, cut out all the bullshit, no more lies, no more television dream angst agony curling up the teeth of the rig "i'm just doing my rounds, ok? stop assuming bullshit, stop laughing, stop jerking me around your living in a fucking candy land of imagined men's money wants drop the act, escape i'm suffocated i'm lust i've been enfeebled and you are nothing like me said the dreams we wandered from out paroxysm heavy sleep into the sea up to our legs the cool water pulled when poetry becomes nothing becomes self loathing self loathing into nothing poetry doesn't exist and only words letters objects remain like clutters sidewalk onto a boat and out into the sea out into the surf sink silently under spun waves spurning the surf asunders his voice singing write not poetry... but of the failure of poetry...
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