garbage poetry / the love heap (skip this post if you want to live)

"look at the inflated trash, how it blows right by us. we watch icicles cling to the roof while laying in bed. there's no end to a constant drip, the icicles will perpetuate until they fall off completely. nothing else. so much useless inflatable garbage!"

-chase, the grandiose dictator of the final liege, keeper of the homosapien flame, gatherer of nuts and berries. lover of potatoes and self-sufficiency. never safe and presumably paranoid. fat and chosen, exclusive unto himself.



i.
i've decided to love someone to whom i no longer exist.

she moves as an old wisp right through me. an old haunt
to call regret. hopelessly i come back to her. yes

i draw a line. she is on one side, i'm on the other.
nothing seems right anymore.
and i can't figure out why i call her
but i do.





ii.
introspective for a moment that dies.
yes we can drink to be and yes we can pretend to be;
academia lets me sit on a fence. we can gripe
endlessly.

that last bit was really bad. i can apologize for bad poetry like i can jerk myself off at night. limbo and libido are basically the same. i've been having this problem called life. and every few months, i'm hung up on some thing i can't quite grasp. so i try to embrace it. maybe that's love. who really fucking knows. noun+verb(w/adjectives). absolutely fucking endless.




iii.
i'm writing to announce a pattern in behavior.
just something i noticed, when i get sad or lonely
there is a tendency to phone up a stranger and talk. just talk.
only because i want to know what they're doing and thinking.
of no coincidence, i am usually drunk, holding the telephone
waiting to dial.




iv.
a very deliberate




v.




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