Kissing the editor.

Looking at a mountain and remaining unmoved.

Me online looking at pictures of dead shit.

Me online in the aftermath of nothing.

Solving for the equilibrium
is me looking up synonyms that I won’t use.

Me not eating for days
and becoming bigger than the moon.

Wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t stare so much?
Wouldn’t it be nice if closing your eyes
made them stop working?

Groveling Psycho Dumbfuck

Me good at it all.

Me on top of a mountain
with 360 degree peripheral vision
is me not noticing
the stains on my ass.

Me smelling like dead shit
that’s also dumb.


Me spinning in wheely chair
saving the whole world with my emails.

Me good on a Thursday,
with no better quality
than being hydrated.

My trauma versus your trauma
is me making you cry before I do
and winning.

Noun Versus Verb Form of Steep Ends in a Draw

This room has you in it
maybe you’ve got the room around you
you and the room are present in the same blurred photograph.

Best not to dwell.

The mantra on a summer night
where you still couldn’t decide
your relationship with the room.

In any case,
I will be happy for both of us,
unembarrassed, bare-assed.

Presumptuous, me.
But pumped full of goodwill!
Bursting at the seams with something we both want to touch and see.

Every Weekend is Me Humping a Gallon of Ice Cream (Abstractly)

The coins on my eyes are pennies,
tails up.
My feet uncovered by the white sheet
that makes my body an alien landscape.

Little people who live on my skin
take residence on my back between my shoulder blades.
They are quiet and do not see where I walk.

People in heaven are too busy to look down.
They told me all my waves are in vain.
They told me the sky can change.

They told me that a hill viewed from above on a sunny day at noon
is not something I should think about all the time.


You wouldn’t know
when you’re in it.
So like
you could be in it
right now.

And all that freaking out
would be funny.