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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 

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
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-

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

his voice singing
write not poetry... but of the failure of poetry...

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