is she real, or have i made her from the strange raw fabrics of my thoughts? did i stitch her together from different patterns that converge into a great madness of heart? she pulls the thread of my being as if to unravel it with obscene prejudice, perhaps to recycle these frayed strings in to…

keep it in your head, these words: angels also fuck. did you think god had made them all at once? that he, in his penthouse of clouds calculated some arithmetic whereupon the number of angels stood on the far end of an equal sign? that some variable perhaps existed to fluctuate, to account for our…

planes coerce the clouds glowing and fading like fireflies the size of distant planets and her shadow mimics everything on the wall behind the bed like a cauterized copy given to by the blue diffused light of the television. though your body is close you are elsewhere as if your parts are halved by some…

ashes in my drink floating on the surface, mildly disturbed by the tapping of a restless extremity, observing cold rain drops streak across the windshield like late sperm racing over a spillway toward some inevitable disappointing conclusion, sitting quietly in question at 2am in the smoke filled cabin of a dimly lit car, running the…

i hear birds greet one another in neighborhood rhetoric, dogs loose from chains bounding yard to yard snapping at the heels of dawn, the highway drone of mechanized passage like wind tunnels from the deep corridors of normal people sleep, dreams of terminal reckoning laid bare in this blue twilight and upon my bed a…

on early spring nights, a breeze from boxfans and open windows, spilling the ashtray and knocking over glasses, crushing water bottles and i separate you from your clothing and we dance, dancing behind a curtain that keeps our light in, enveloped in the warmth of friction, the release of kinetic energy stored up over the…

one discernible star in this city, unremarkable, tame as all others, only one visible from this sad collection of wasted souls, this mess of tangled peoples. one dimly lit star, fading softly a million years on, breathing deep the cosmic breath of this ridiculous scheme, the sound of tires burning and the scent of sweat…

wide eyed circumference, a squeaking ceiling fan and unused human parts, the longing for touch, taste, sound, lust, for anything to feel human, to feel like a man prepared to break down mountains with a shattering clenched fist, a look of passion or a word to halve helixes, anything other than this tired slow withdrawal…

that night we scoured the earth in search of a cure for our depravity and we found the places where god had wept and his tears were of bovine feculence, delivered in plastic bags to our door, we counseled one another as to the nature of this expedition and we consumed gram by gram the…

my tongue burns acrid from nicotine onslaught and my chest heaves and swells and retreats and my lips burn as the filter approaches zero, well beyond midnight i sit with no company other than my own perilous thoughts and ideations, each moment another note from this orchestra of soundless wonder. i can feel the hour…