Resurrect the Dead

September 20, 2013 § Leave a comment

On his backside lies a fleshy cinder
Secreting jelly from every orifice of his head
And the infested ovaries of his fatty loin,
Tentacles of the circumcised moon.

It’s a garden of severed limbs
Harvesting mutilated steel from its paunch
While carnival vultures dine
On the nerves of the bloated fly’s teeth.

The Observer

August 13, 2013 § Leave a comment

In this tan room cluttered with art deco mirrors
The accompanying voice, dancing like a feather, says “I heard you’re very lonely.”
This room is an endless labyrinth of rooms
turning over on themselves with no explanation
like a meat grinder of rotting bodies,
A chandelier in God’s sensorium.

My dreams are reality; painting the theatre bizarre
Mere moments separated by suspended animation
Two tiny abruptions ruling my perception.
Every bundle of absorbed organisms looking through their own viewfinder,
one no more true than the other.

Walking through walls like wading pools
I often wonder what I look like to other people
Behind every I resides the seat of sensation
stampeding in blind fear,
Trampling and suffocating the Observer.

I look in the mirror and I only see darkness, an eternal abyss of black depth
There’s something there beyond the other side.

Eat Your Eye

August 6, 2013 § Leave a comment

Slumber’s breathing darkness
crawls down like black tar
towards virile swine agog
mutilating itself in fenced-in little pens
screaming glass shards from their chests
waiting for the death blow.

Enveloped faceless molasses
skates through the crowd like a velvet noose
curling around the moment God died.

And lying amidst putrid fog
some weird conjoined uterus
Waiting for something parasitic
to be enamored with.

The mouth is just a portal to the brain

June 26, 2013 § Leave a comment

Image

Hanging from the ceiling is a pile of bodies fucking and writhing
Looking for an orifice in the kitchen of my youth.

Suspended by a rope
This breathing, throbbing mass
A viscous fabric of moaning goo
Reveals an eyeball in its vagina,
like the Malevolent Eye of God
glaring at everyone in the night.

And on a dessert spoon
this mutilated male
feasts on the sacred heart of time and destruction

The mouth is just a portal to the brain
And the Devil’s sea
pirouettes on atoms of steel geometry.

Embryo Exam

December 27, 2012 Comments Off on Embryo Exam

Tiny puddles of blood on my doorstep
A dead baby bird.
Everything that disgusts me in one small crushed grey shell
Lovingly, its eyes still closed.
Faint and motionless, teeming with ants, (god forbid) you spend your daily life ignored.
It’s because I’ve never felt as lonely as I do in a crowded room.

When something is soft and malleable, the universe doesn’t know what to do with it
Except to destroy what it can.

Everybody pretends they want to know but they don’t want to know
The things that make you tick, and cringe, and make your dick hard are not topics to explore.
Talk about pleasantries.
And that time something ironic happened to you.

My organs are a festering pool.
Spilling out wherever they see fit.
Moving into locations they aren’t supposed to know.
Eroding my esophagus into an acidic crimson glow
Until eventually my anxiety aggressively spills out like projectile vomit painting someone’s party dress.

What is someone to do when they feel their opinion no longer holds weight
And they are incapable of giving a shit?

Shallowness is depth, and depth is disgusting.

My skies are never darker than they are in October.

November 29, 2012 § 1 Comment

The sky, a golden glow of lavender as I gnaw on my knee
We are nothing more than bones and red meat.
I have this pain in my ear like an earwig is crawling its way to my brain    slowly
Screaming.
Revenge for the time I watched some little shithead pull its legs out one by one.

All my life I’ve been hiding behind someone’s leg.
Crippled by my retarded speech.
As children, we are all fooled into thinking we are relevant.
A conveyor belt of nervous breakdowns impatiently parading down my spine.

Sometimes I just can’t bear to be awake.

Under an orange peel ceiling stretched across the bed
Summer evenings spent romanticizing my death
And when it happens the only thought I’ll have is

“I knew it would end like this,”

as I slip into that final moment of self-induced euphoria.

When I had pink eye as a child I fantasized about pulling out my eyeball,
scraping out the gravel from behind the socket
and then boiling it on the stove.

And that bedroom window you were so sure someone was staring into
the car that drove by a little too slow
The frailty of teenage war and sex,    onscreen
Masturbating to an image of yourself in grainy solitude

Somewhere a girl is forcing her friend into a humiliating situation only because she is bored.
Choking on her own spit
Get on your knees to please me.
He even has the nerve to look bored.

Precognition was a state of bliss.
The difference between whether I want to fuck someone or be someone becomes muddled.
I clench my teeth like a bear trap
Death is slow and degrading.

The only thing I like about my life is that it will eventually end.

How to Kill a Rabid Animal

November 20, 2012 Comments Off on How to Kill a Rabid Animal

And he saw the dead rotting corpses rising through the cracks in the floor.
Tuning in to static to settle the mind.

I made instant rice. The sound of the bag bobbing up and down in the pot sounded like someone enthusiastically jerking off.
The last time I used a public restroom and had to listen to the girl two stalls down texting her friends while she took one shit after another.
These are the guidelines for your tiny little public confessionals.
People have sex with mice, they do.
And they write about it on the walls. Every last little detail and each scrape of the nails against their genitals.

I do not know if I want to know this and yet I do because these people have to document every reoccurring exploit.
Every father molesting his child with a fake vegetable oiled tan and furrowed brow –
Always looking directly into the camera and smiling.

Everything comes back to sex and what gets people off properly
And what leaves them wanting?
Those oh-so-difficult periods of stagnancy spent seeking out the family pet,
The younger sibling,
The work out gear, the noose, the plastic bags, produce and humiliation,
the whips, the pills, the sharp device,
Self-containment, swallowing, digesting.

The universal truth is:
Gang bangs are empowering.
Don’t swallow what you can’t fuck.
Food and shit are interchangeable.
When the party’s over, kill yourself in public.

Humanity is highly fecund in its depravity.

Bring on the shaking asses and tits! There are important questions that need to be answered!
“Can they fit SIX fists in there?”
“Is it longer than my arm?”
“What can she do with her puke?”
“Will they eat ALL bodily fluids without exception?” and, of course, “How will they eat them?”

And I am listening to the texting, and the shitting, and imagining her with the mouse at a frat party being egged on by all the flush-faced college dudes who are aching for a new vid to put online.
They’re tugging at themselves while she’s gagging.
They’re high-fiving their friends.
They’re making advance plans to bring the retard girl next weekend.

And this is the root of it all. The reason we’re all here.
Everyone wants to get off. And somehow birthdays are supposed to be sacred.

Poem read by Pat Wenzel
Videography by Jamie Robinson

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