She Only Said One Thing

She loves me.

She accepts me
for who
I
am.

She even loves my
uncircumcised
cock.

It loves her back.

My cock
wants to
marry her.

Now I do.

It's the strangest
feeling
I've ever
felt.

But it's the greatest
I've ever
felt
too.

The world makes sense
with her,
even when we are
both
confused.

Everything is beautiful
because of her.

There is no more
time
to waste.

I must die
now
before it all
ends.

Only a fool
would believe
it could last
forever.

But never
have I ever
wanted anything
more.

The next chapter
awaits us
and the fear
of it all
is behind
me.

She only said
she love me.

Please

Bodybag,
he said,
put me
in a bodybag and
drop me
in a hole.

He had the right
idea.

No sense
dragging on.

No sense in
living old
and constantly
complaining,
habitually making
everybody's
ears
menstrate.

He was right,
I believed him.

Die
when the time
comes.

Live
right here
in this moment
with me
n
o
w.

Complain
when they
zip
you
up.

Please.

I'm running
out of
rags.

This Dream's Not Over

In the night sky
a galaxy
explodes.

The bright fire shines
in my eyes
and disappears.

Like that.

I think to myself,
we could be here
and gone.

Like that.

All of our mistakes,
murders,
and miscommunications,
erased.

Sounds nice.

Then again,
I want to continue to
make mistakes.

I don't want
this dream
to end.

We have no choice.

We must let everything
go.

All lives must
be
erased.

Others can watch
in silence
and think,
for a second,
they
still
have a chance
to make
one last
mistake.

I walk on
pursuing
mine.

They Had Snake Eyes

My idols were
madmen.

They fucked every woman
they could.

Some men too.

They submerged their hearts
and souls
in vices
and flames.

They even destroyed lives.

But I had no one
else
to turn to.

My father was fictional
and just like fiction,
I made up
everything
about him.

Never once
seeing
into his eyes.

But these men,
were not made up.

They were there.

For me,
for countless bastards
wandering alone
in dirty underwear.

They never let
anybody
down.

They knew
what is what like
to be lost.

They knew what
failure
was
and they laughed
at it all.

That's the only
way to live.

Just a roll
of the dice.

Snake eyes
is what I
prefer.

The First Time

The room was green,
the smell of incense
covered my hands,
which were holding
a nudie magazine.

I stole it.

From a dumpster.

There was mold
on the pages,
and women,
naked and real,
or paper,
exposing their most precious
parts
to me.

I worked at it,
sweat began to appear,
I worked and worked,
until,
I felt
very
strange.

I felt like I was
dying,
like my soul was
elevating.

Pools of white
shot out
of my floating
wiener
and mixed in
with the mold.

I was finally
at peace.

Then,
reality
struck.

My mom called out for me.

Dinner was ready.

I didn't even know
how to clean up
the mess.

Sunday Funday

It was early.

We were all hungover.

The only cure:
hair of the dog.

Mimosas to be exact.

We went through pitchers.

I don't remember
past noon.

Here's what I've been told-

I was stumbling
downtown,
climbing the streetlights,
scaring the sober and innocent
with threats of
beheadings and castrations.

I was a monster.

Allegedly.

I eventually made it
to my friend's house.

I was talking
nonsense,
just being a drunken fool.

I decided to leave.

I had to pee.

Her neighbors stopped me
for a nice friendly
chat.

I still had to pee.

I did so
in my pants
right in the middle
of our conversation
and didn't stop
till
I was finished.

I acted as if nothing was happening.

It was.

They were appalled.

I ran off.

To where?

I don't remember.

I just recall
waking up,
in my cousin's room,
and my friend
came up
and we laughed
and watched
It's Always Sunny.

Because it always is
on Sunday
Funday.

The Songs of a Sad Child

I've been dreaming
of her
since
I was a boy.

I'd imagine her
cooking me food,
naked.

I'd create fantasies
of her
licking my balls
and massaging my back
after a hard day's work.

I'd dream every day
of her
and search and search
and search.

I'd find girls
and I'd cry and listen to
sad, sad songs
every time
some young slut
broke my pathetic heart.

 But....

I'd also be
excited
because I knew
she was getting
closer.

I could feel
her
in my heart.

Every step of my life.

I knew
I was with her
this past weekend.

We've been together
for three years now.

We've gone through
many, many
sad and
bad
and some of the best moments
of our lives
together.

This time,
we were in
San Francisco,
staying in a cheap motel room,
right above a
cheap strip club.

She cried
just like I dreamed
when I was a boy.

I put my arms around her
exactly
like I remembered
I would.

I knew
right then,
she was
the woman
of my dreams.

I smiled
and it seemed
like an odd time
to do so.

She just didn't know.

I knew.

I could see
the future
just like
when I was young.

We fought
again
later,
but I didn't seem
to mind
as much as I
used to.

I knew
that every fight
we've fought
has brought us
closer
to our dream:

Our marriage.

It's all I've ever dreamed about
since I was listening
to those
sad, sad songs.

It's Time For a Change

I went outside
to get a drink.

I saw my uncle, Mike,
sitting there,
staring at me.

He was smiling
like I've never seen him
before,
as if
he didn't have
a care
in this world.

He didn't.

Because in my dream,
he was a ghost.

It didn't make any sense.

I was completely shocked.

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

He laughed
and gave me a hug.

Our souls connected.

For, what I felt,
was the first time.

I could feel his energy,
his entire being
warming up
my sad soul,
telling me,
everything's gonna be alright.

I believed him.

Never
have I ever
felt such a joy,
such a wonder,
such comfort,
from a simple
touch.

It was just a hug.

We don't do this,
now.

It makes me wonder,

why?

This is our life.

This is our time.

We need to connect

NOW.

Not in some dream,
or at a funeral.

RIGHT NOW.

We can and
we will.

I will make it
MY
responsibility
to make sure
this happens,
to make sure
ALL
of those around me
feel loved.

We owe ourselves this much.

Not much will come
from the way
we've been acting
so far.

It's time
for a change.

The Last and Only Birthday Card

The ocean
is the greatest wonder
of life.

In death,
it is our home.

The great migration
to the other side
is in the
deep blue.

I have not witnessed this.

Many
with an unfortunate
curse
have.

They watch
as thousands
with their heads split open,
stomachs torn out,
souls mutilated,
dive into the waves.

Right now,
I wonder,
is this where my aunt
is heading?

Is she making
her final journey
with the rest?

I don't know.

I don't have
the curse.

I don't want it.

But, if I did,
I'd follow her
and make sure
her final view
of this world
is the most gorgeous sunset
she's ever seen.

It's the least
I could do,
considering
I never once
gave her a
birthday card.

Screaming at the Universe

I was hungover.

Bad.

I felt like puking
everywhere,
covering every inch of
sunlight
with my bile.

Instead,
the sun scorched
my skin
and fried
my idiot brain.

I kept on.

A tunnel was coming up,
a break from the heat,
but I could hear
madness
escaping from its
shadows.

There was no way around it.

I entered...

His name,
I don't remember,
his face,
red,
his eyes,
red,
his breath,
worse than mine,
his hands
bloody
and holding a beer.

He offered me one.

I accepted.

His words were
incoherent,
but I got the message.

Life is worthless.

Yet we keep going.

To what,
I don't know.

I threw up
after we departed.

I could hear him
screaming
at the universe.

There's really
not much else
anybody
can do.

Eternal Agony

All their lives
they had to struggle
through a miserable
existence.

Now this...

Their souls
held prisoner
in
eternal agony.

There is too much
I do not
understand.

How could
such a horrifying
dimension
exist?

What does it all mean?

If the afterlife
is
worse than our
horrible jobs,
credit,
prisons,
then,
why on earth
would anybody
want to
die?

I no longer want to die.

I love this place.

I love my life.

I love that
I
have the power
to create
eternal bliss
right here
in this dimension.

This much
I do understand.

Nothing else really matters.

The Stoned Comedian

I remember
the first time
I smoked out of a
bong.

I threw up.

My friend packed
the whole
bowl.

Weed to the brim.

Good shit too.

He lit me up
and told me
to
suck.

I did.

It was relentless.

I couldn't breathe.

My eyes were ablaze.

The sound of the water
bubbling
drove me
fucking nuts.

The bowl
at last
snapped.

I coughed
and coughed
and coughed.

My lungs were smoldering.

It was awful.

I was as high
as a motherfucker.

I immediately
ran to the sink.

I drank
and drank
and drank.

Straight from the faucet.

I threw it back up.

I threw up again.

And again.

Somehow hiding it
from my friend,
or whatever he
claimed to be.

Next stop:
Taco Bell.

I threw up again.

This time,
in front of
everybody.

Their laughter shook my puke.

The whole place
stood up
and applauded my
act.

I was the stoned comedian.

Always will be
to them.

I hope
they are
still
getting a good laugh
now.

If not,
I can make myself
throw up.

It's no big deal.

It's my forte.