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Kevin, the illitarit.

somebody take my feet
and string me up
she is restless and waiting
wanting more

the crowd gathers below

we are nights in armor
we are shining
and opening up flesh
with golden skill and
insane amounts of practice

collecting the photographs
strewn about the dance floor
mother Mary
is running in circles
and chasing her tail

Kevin, the illiterate
is sticking out his chin
,but also
more importantly, his legs
while he spins
the noise and whiskey away

to the night
where we crowd up the old ruins
where we start the fires of our youth
and watch them slowly burn
until the sun comes up
and we awake
deep
in the silence
of infinity.

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose

I can't
just can't
do everything once
it's rather hard to accept the fact that
you are not the smartest person in the world
you are not the most attractive person in the world
you are not that amusing
some people might see you as annoying
you are not that interesting
whatever you are good at, somebody is better
whatever you know, somebody knows more
you are not the best
you are not the worst

You are caught
in a useless, unwritten, unused life
in a middle, melancholy, modern American mind
in a bitter, unrewarding existence

all there is to do is
walk outside
look at the stars
and take her with you

Restless, relentlessly

Please don't make me sick again
don't make me breathe in the bitter
thick
exhale of accomplishment
don't let me see the future
and don't
please don't
let me drag you down with me

the sidelines tell a much different story
than the field
the sword tells a great tale,
but so does the shield

yet, we all fall asleep at night alone
don't we?

there is nobody in your dreams to catch you
from falling down the cliff
from breaking your wings in mid flight
from crashing down the bridge

only the killer knows the truth
because he
/she
has learned to see
the truth for what it is

nothing more than a sprawled out
red carpet
waiting for you to step down
all the while
taking you nowhere.

Shit Shit Shit

Soo... I just wrote an amazing poem.
I pressed the wrong button
and it all got deleted.

I mean, I know that I don't write for anybody else,
but really.....
my heart just kinda sunk.
It was good.

I don't believe in Los Angeles

Your primitive smile
quickly pressing down on my lungs
retreat, lover, retreat
looking out through your eyes
I can see the future

I want to move out
and off to new york
to the city that never sleeps
because there are no such thing as angels
and the south beach is full of tourists

take my hand
lover and let your glare
off my lungs
let your hands and your hips
be then end of me


Awaking the dead

Capturing your fragrance
by the air
by the by
and listening to you open your lips
I stare,
in wonder, in anticipation
for you to make a move
for you to breathe in
and open up your eyes

You will be
everything that hides
in the depths of my dreams
when I wake up sweating and screaming

T-shirt idea

Get this.
A T-shirt with a picture of a Jesus centaur.
Half horse, half Jesus.

The shirt says "Jesus Neighs"

Or a raver Jesus with glow sticks.
"Jesus Raves!"

Tide (a song)

We're all just tiny grains of sand
all lonely
with hair pulling in colors
hair twisting in circles and wrapping up our skin
pull it out
and take it off

if the moon
has the power to pull the tide
and bring the sand
into one

than it surely has the power
to pull us down
to the ocean
to the ocean
where we strip each other down
to our skeletons
our skeletons
and again
sink to the bottom
hand in hand

to the altar, back in your backyard
with the arch above,
archers out in the stars
and the moon watching out
to bring the tide
and connect us into one

trapped by our own greed
but we let ourselves free
and pull us down
to the ocean
to the ocean
the ocean