if i fall, you'll die

it appears now

That we are in a lab-like place

i am sorry

i hear the calls to pull you in

but how can i save you

my darling?

i tried love

but it turns out

you're alergic to that

i tried honesty

but it only propels you

into the arms of another

and infatuation

only brings you part-way

i am truly sorry

but i fail to understand

the physics of it all

i'm a simple man

i just want someone who can return my intense passion

like an unbridled flame, one as hot as the sun!

rather than running off with it

to drown in my vast ocean of thoughts and words

to suffocate.

that's all i ask

even the walls in my room

can take my endless profession of love

without complaining

But my hope and patience have no limits

only breaks in-between

when my heart is broken

i run off to the hills and mend it

only to re-emerge

with even less memory than before

is that penance?

and what will i be next?

The "hero"

saving you from a black knight?

or the gift you couldn't open before New Years?

maybe even a psychiatrist

either way

one thing's for sure

eventually your closet will be empty of disguises

to by-pass my security

and when that happens

i'll take my fleet and depart

to conquer some foreign land

only to return

with less men than before

because there's strength in numbers

i think i'm in love!

sshhhh...
silence!
you must understand
this is a delicate situation
that requires the utmost finesse

it's taken us months
to find this rare and illusive situation
don't say it too loudky
or you'll scare it away
just a hairs breath
and the whole thing will come
crashing down
keep it close
keep it safe
keep it hidden
our only hope for survival is
to tip-toe quietly
carefully
Please
try not to touch or step on anything
as you make your way through

The Tigress

so it was the two of them
in a tiny apartment
he
a hopeless romantic
mostly hopeless

she was a tigress
and this was her cave

And he would come around
in hopeful times
hoping that she would let him in

for reasons like
calling out to her fire escape
with a bottle of wine
hoping it was the language of love

and if he was lucky
it was
and she'd let him in

So he would come in
and they would sit down
across from each other
in the tiny apartment
bursting with leisure
and hippie crap

He would tell her romantic things
and she would grin at him
as if
he was what's for dinner

and wine and hippie crap
would fall out their mouths
until the sunset
or the sky was invisible

All the while
she thinking of the gorgeous meal
she scarred away
months back

And all the while
his mind fixed on the romantic
unaware
of how hopelessly hopeless he was

Not even months
but weeks later
i ran into the poor conned
chump
I mean he was truely hopeless
nothing ever added with him
just took away
so i asked him
if he was still keeping tabs on that tigress
the one he was hunting

And he said-
"You know?
For long moments of time
I would sit outside her cave
and watch her
So i watched her as she left one day
and she never came back"

See? Even a noose will work

I break bread over silver tongues
And castrate babies
Feed pretentious bastards with gold spoons
And shake my head with "maybe's"

I make blue moons
Answer shooting stars
And wolf howls

Infect fictitious nonfiction
With once in-a-life time's everyday
And make fun of great philosopher's theories
When I hear people pray

I own a home resort getaway
On the nineth cloud
Where I commence swimming in thunder
And making absolutism proud

"WHO AM I?"
Who are you to call?
I may serve you
But I still reserve the right for a coup de-tat

I make trees blush for lovers
I aim like a sniper
For a kiss from the soulless
While bending hell

I'm sexest and not
Called man
Desired woman
Though no one can really tell

First they said I was one
Now I'm one in three
Who knows what the future holds
Or even if you'll see me

I've burned the walls of famed establishments with graffiti
Crushed whole kingdoms under my third-eye while it's blinking
Wrapped my tongue around whole worlds
All while sitting in my chair thinking

I'm European with blonde hair
I'm african with locks
And if you look close enough
I'm a middle east orphan
who set a millennial
C4 strapped
Alarm clock

freedom
Truth
justice
Providence
The metaphysically empathetic
Your reasons
All seem soulless
You see
Cause in the end
Nothing
And I do mean nothing
Serves your government
Better than me

the poet was dead before you got there

the size of my love
is this breathing light
that puts me inside
a flooding ship
slowly disappearing at sea

You can find it
in Berlin
or behind some great wall
maybe even
inside this metal heart
of mine

a wishful alignment
to a fragile fall
from this day-long act
of suck
and fuck
and the occassional lips
til our skin pressure creates
shades of grey

this social storm
yells after cherished dreams
lost in a subway

sure
i'll breakdown the window
so you can see
and if you ask "where?"
then I've lost you touching me

so don't waste my sunrise
on confusion

true
your perdus gaze
made me afraid of everything
that can pass the time
but
i gave that up a long time ago
so evolution would stay with me

now
i'm a soul stealer
on earthly plane
and in order to fly
you use this energy
teasing me playfully

but
i can smell the minute cracks
in your laughter
and slits of darkness
shine through them periodically

so tell me
how much longer will we play
til i find gold?

pick a number please!
before i slip and bleed
on angels and pranks

i think you killed me

Bored engines
hum queens
with firey changes
and mascara
around their fur

to make the sun rise
a sweet savoring
of no ordinary words
creates
volcanic cries
so elated
you'd think
it was
a riptide of gods
blowing through the world
in neon
to shell out a verbal dream

and now
I'm slowly turning into
sinking beats
and decaying wonder

falling in-between the crack of day

amazing
your love
was a passive
and
forsoothing stranger
that sunk so deep
i wonder
was there a casualty in all this?

her laughter in B-flat

Show-stopping doll smiles
stretched and pulled
over open eyes

To listen intently upon

you need
children yelling ghost screams
through midnight air

To break the fluid consciousness
in hidden motives

You need to
say grace
and speak politely
stab crowds
with a breathing laughter
bought out a candy store

To unlock
complacent angel voices
snatched up by
diseased houses
playing in the wind

strap a forest
clogged with fireflies

to reprint

a mouse voice in the corner
sleeps forever
while sundance patterns
try to choke the closing day

But a smile and voice
is all you’ll hear
mostly a smile

Sex with an Anarchist

Keep my sanded senses out of colored promises
and my gorgeous eyes in gold and steel

can't you see
that all my friends are on fire?
leave my splendid hands
in a fate austere

i can hear everything
when my heart is burning
why cant this worlds creations
slight my rainbow fears?


well then

I'll break the ground
I'll slit its wrists
i'll wreck this world
and swallow your artifice

and if we're remiss
with tradition
we can have a life to save

all we need is recognition
and we can mend these ways

but i'm still incomplete
i need a face or soul
but i don't need your help
stand back!
and watch the birth of gold

maybe if i resolve knowing
maybe if i just give in
if i just...
listen to what they say
if only i could trade what you thought was love
even so
it wouldn't mean a thing

because
i see now
that you can part oceans
and move against them

but this is done backwards
methods are left to ghost
this isn't icarus
a darling felicity

and so

appall my acid smiles
and neon thoughts
that beam with resolve

pull apart these lies
that risk your own kind
obscure unkind
til you risk yourself to find

and if your not lying
holdon to yourself
as if you belonged

and if we're remiss
with tradition
we can have a life to share
we don't need introduction
it will end our days
just recognition

i see now
you drag yourself
grudgingly
through murky halls
of aggravated violence

and scream at them with ellipses

but this is done backwards
methods are left to ghost
this isn't icarus
a darling felicity

it's the main view
of a chameleon audience
transfigured by the rain

werewolf

well
i'm a werewolf
a werewolf

susceptible to moonlight

the scars on my skin
are from previous insights

well i'm a werewolf
a werewolf

i wakeup to each sun
with cuts
and shallow bruised

You leavin?
well
not like anyone'll know
sept that floozy
called the moon

well
i'm a werewolf
a werewolf

nobody cares
and nobody knows my name

their always scared
or looking for fame

well i'm a werewolf

a werewolf

no need for talk you see
minus the were wolf you've seen
take hold of me

I'm invisible to the eye
that is

until you cry
or take hold of me

We're starting to ripe

a culmination of
societies venom
in the form of
smiling white teeth and black gums
gutter smoke poofing out
the onyx concave in-between
empty, hole-sockets
vertical eye punches
repeatedly
dragging away from
sludge and grit
to slither up and down
some pure white coral
ejaculating acid
mud drips down
eroding and draining
while the coral tries to escape
still pure
until the smiling grin moves aside
replenished
with its eyes slithering behind it...

Eulogy for the sun

Her name was Ashley

A sliver of blue moon
behind the sun
morning voice
relinquish burden
inside the belly of conditional shouts

yea
she had a voice that was very loud
we're going to miss her

Her name was Ashley
And she had a voice
with the strength of bulls
So loud
the earth
would groan and pull

Another voice amongst the large
But a voice
so big
it knocked against stars
but the clouds were stronger
so my image was smothered
we're going to miss her


Her name was Ashley
another voice
amongst an army
who fed me
when my eyes
were starving
from relinquished debt
beside my woe
impaled heart-stone
burdens
wrought of sorrow

dipped in a bath of children playing with sulfur
a smile to a chuckle
and then it was over
but i
unchanging to accept
the way things won
found
drops of blood
filled with silence
will scream outside
your verbal lungs
and by then
she was gone

and we'll miss her
she had a whole lot to say
but yea, so long...

bone weak

i speak into her hands
as if i belonged

with evening skin

and a voice
that would grab hold to you
and pull you out of dreams

while dribbling
darling thoughts
onto the leg and calf
the size of my love
sinks so deep
it heckles the sun
to spot G
in her civilian becoming
with a knife-clenching perfection
so elated
she can't even breath
taking in gulps
of this suffocated hunger
until the thick, pulling weight of urgency
traps what's unknown into a breath
that i may

release

but i push through so hard
to bear quakes in a resurrection
that now weighs-in unconditioned
and
swallows her being whole
until
only pieces
can be seen
at the break of day

You're like, so art scene

Hey princess
whenever
wherever
your body lies
when you think of me
and how i'm so crazy
i hope the sun
is burning out your eyes

Shallow Martinis

Darling thoughts and...
Martinis
with a shade of green
beside tables
near the bar
at the door
looking mean

plopped up in chairs
or next to a pole

"Good morning beautiful!"
and goodbye "hellos"

thoughts so unbled
i can't pull them out
even to have something to sit on
while we talk

yet their slowly melting
and reaching out
from the pores beneath my eyelids
calling your name

But don't burst our trifle conversation
because i'm a martyr
to shallow friends
and acquaintances

and if I have to
i'll hand you my soul
on dead pieces of conversation grins

and make it shine
like a new-borne
beneath those lovely eyes

My life in D-minor

if i ruled the world
sun flowers would have holes
morning love would be in fashion
and Green eyes
would be belle
for invitations
on rainy days
to inspect the carpet floor
and throw pillows
with your back in various ways

influenza (in heels)

"Hey baby
don't stay away
or i'll drain you"

"pissing on territory?
yearning for lithium?
i'll cum as i may
but please
don't stay away
or i'll drain you"

Do or die
sit and cry
Your time is running short
when the sun comes in
and opens your eyes
you'll see
i'll have done all the work

The scars are spiderwebs
that don't do
a hella good
to a firing love
that leaves you bruised- "Apologies baby
ignore the echo in the back
it's only saying
i'll drain you..."

Daddy Dearest

wet film
wrapped around
loose-leaf
Morbid chemistry
raped on the screaming backs of
progress (that blind uncertainty)

How much the sound hurts
when you bring it to my attention

A headache so strong
i think that my head might explode

On closer look
you shove
bloodless voices
in the distance
under rain clouds
and me

on the brink of extinction.

Muscle Memory

I pase the walls
and growl at your clothes

what's considered hallmark
is really a prose

so sore to hold her
i'm left re-scarred
while
thigh perfume paints a thinning world
i open your bones
and scream down the halls

professing my hunger
with the conviction
of born-again vegetarians
turn wrong
i'm locked inside
a door slam and seat belied
it seems
I will be trapped in here forever

misquito thoughts
aggravating
the curl of sensation

deep inside my heart
where i can see us fucking

deep inside

but give her only a shard
seeing i
grow from Your whole being
enchanting my worlds to run through smiles
to nurture escape from a generated laughter
and shine upon the moon

Dizzy on Mars

sleep walking past the destruction of a nation
during the resurrection of Jesus Christ
wraps around your swollen eyes in laughter
while leaving you behind
only to stare back periodically

we're all
so much better
than devil laughs
moving to the top of your golden finger

watch us throw up
til you collapse
and wait to breath

our world pulls you into the bleak
and removed
deconstruction
of gilded steps and milky smooth isolation

pulling you out a field of light
into a tranquil exhale of blue smoke and glass
showing whats beyond years
crouching through smiles
and trapping yawns
to the roof of your mouth
just so you can cry
then roll over
to let the world implode
from a speechless conversation

Eeyore's Song

so you can't remember
your reasons now

and you can't see
stars from the ground

your heard your calling
but the voice is fading

and unrehearsed skepticism
bleeds inside

be true to yourself
because Rome can tell you
a very violent lie
lock you up in solitude
where you'll never speak again

The warrior from mars

i spent last night
with a shooting star
on the outskirts of hopelessness

where we talked of
wind and rain
craters and ash

right now
i see that you were eager
i thought i would remiss
but i guess you really needed me to ask

it shamed
the fireball to show
her drowned and sodden heart
soaked in all those months
of liquid fears

and i know
you saw that look on me
as if i was apalled
that small speck of moment
lost in our ears

i wanted more
despite the pyre
from those secretes laced in gold
but my hands flinched
when i moved
to wipe her face

her eyes closed tight
feeding the fire
and so
my heart turned cold
but sometimes
that's needed
to give a warm embrace

Pencil Drawings

restless thoughts unbled

behind fragile casing

a midnight voice

that's kept inside

untouched by rust 

and 

rainbow fears

A pale light fills in the cracks

along a glassy mane of black coal

with tongue and pen

Both glued to mind

strangling the composition of a faded smile

Growing ebon needles 

reaching out to find

breech nerve to reveal

Me 

dissolving with a dripping mist

and

imagine with me

a yelp of escape

so thin and light

it slips through the slits of reaching

and shines within the pale cold 

of writing smiles

pulling you out of me 

and 

pressing down 

til relief is scored

Contract

i tell her
i'm here
demon-bread to drain your addiction

handsome fed all of life's blemishes
to sell to them a meager beauty

drink my refrain
ignore its animation of a bloodless song
in here
buzz words
scrape no stabbing guise

so no reason to complain
even if rome is burning

revel me
and you'll find a pint of rise

Words

words

made in labs by scientists

without love and meaning

processed by-products

no longer their original master piece

mass produced in factories

nourished by recycled laughter

and stuffed with secretes

disassembled and reassembled

to redefine a conversation piece

and if you speak into your ears

you can still hear

the piercing squeel

of an angered beast

rolling green between you and i

in these words there's no oasis

Words are tossed ontop of stars

Words are soiled with meaning

Words are tossed into the sun

placed on coffee tables

between a newspaper and cinnabon

Sometimes i wish

i could throw myself into some situation stuffed with the harsh realities of life. One much colder than my own. War or famine. A impoverished, crime infested country.

I wonder what discoveries about philosophy I'd find. New outlooks on life, I want to know what more are out there. Drastic stretched philosophies beyond the borders of what I can dream of. What discoveries would i find about the human mind.

But that's why artist who have lived those lives keep record. Those philosophers. So that people like me may have knowledge of what can be found within those environments without having to experience them.

But we also have a responsibility to experience those things ourselves. As artist. That we may write and build a truer philosophy, unpainted by the vision of someone else.

i often wonder how high the heights of philosophy from African slaves rose. Or jews. Or.. enslavement, what does that reveal in us? In our minds?

But the language from within that can be so cryptic to me, like trying to find someone in fog. I believe I truly miss the light of their poems and letters.

you know what I think of when i think about design?

I think of the cluttered ad boards @ my school. 

Raped by stacks upon stacks of, often rushed and needlessly designed,

ads. Spilled on top of one another. I think of the rows of bill boards like

loud forests packed onto the side of the highways. Or the movie posters

piled upon each other on the face of gritty landscapes like orgies

in greasy gas station stalls.

skill in art is a lot like skill in martial arts- the discipline's are all relative. There are only great artists/fighters: the winner is they who puts the most effort into their craft.

IS SUICIDE

an option?

it was a word with one syllable

"Hey!"

"Good afternoon."

"Jesus Christ! It's pouring pretty nasty"

"..."

"Phew! I'm so glad these bus stops have the little roof things over'em, that newspaper wasn't cutting it, know what i mean? Is that spot free?"

"Free?"

"Yea, mind if I sit down?"

"No. I don't mind"

"Thanx!"

"Did you bring it?"

"Bring...oh! Dammit, i forgot"

"..."

"Haha, c'mon! I'm just messin with you, course I brung it. I haven't had fun like this in a while y'know? I feel like a secrete agent! But I've never been much good with acting"

"I see"

"awww, don't look so serious, I was just joking, I'll get back into character. Seriously tho, I'm pretty bad at acting. oh! M'name's Daniel by the way, but he probably already told you that"

"He?"

"Haha, sorry forgot. no names"

"I already know your name"

"Oh ok cool. So what's yours"

"That is of little importance"

"o..k. So what's in the briefcase?"

"My part of our bargain. Whatever you want"

"Haha, ok ok, so you're going to trade me this... Oh, it's in my backpack, g'me a second"

"..."

"Ok! So you're going to trade me this 'deed' for anything I want?"

"Yes"

"Man, you really got that whole monotone voice theng down, no facial expression and ev'rytheng. Hmmmm, ok so how much money is in that brief case or is that what I'm suppose to tell you and then you give me however much I say?"

"Is money truly what you want to sell this world for?"

"So, there's no money in the case?"

"What resides in this briefcase are the contents of whatever you want in exchange and only that"

"Even though I haven't told you what it is yet?"

"How can I give you what you want if you haven't told me what it is first?" 

"What? Wait. no. you don't get what I'm saying. This game is confusing"

"What is it that you're saying?"

"So l'me get this straight. Whatever I tell you I want in exchange for this 'deed' will be in that briefcase?"

"Yes"

"Christ, alright! Heh, this is fun, let's see..hmmm, i waaant...wait! So anything I want?!"

"Whatever is of this earth"

"Earthly plane, riiight. And what does that mean?"  

"Whether it be man, machine, human emotion-"

"Wait! wait! Ok, so.. you're confusing me"

"What are you confused about?"

"What? You said man, emotion? What is that, like a magic trick"

"If that is what you would like to call it"

"Holyshit! This really is like some government conspiracy thing! You're really are some kinda secret agent, aren't you? What're you, gunna pull out some long lost relative or somethin?"

"Is that what you truly want?"

"Haha, this is cool! Ok, ok, fine I'll play along. sorry man, I'm having a hard time keeping up this act, it's been a long day"

"Is their some human you would like to have?"

"Human? Yeesh, you guys need to brushup on those communication skills. so..ummm... let's see. Hmmm..funny. Now I can't think of anyone that's disappeared out of my life suddenly, no one close to me at least. Sept for my mom"

"Is that what you want in exchange?"

"But she didn't leave leave, she, y'know? died"

"As I've told you many times already, whatever you ask for will be within this briefcase"

"Hey, watch it! That's my mom, that shit's not funny" 

"I have no intent to humor you. I know nothing of humor"

"So, what? You got like some personal artifact of hers that I don't have? Shit, you guys know everything"

"Is some personal artifact what you would like instead of your deceased mother?"

"No! Ofcourse I want my fucking mom back, geez"

"Very well"

"I told you man! It's not funny, if you open up that briefcase...what's that noise? What's that sound?"

"..."

"Oh my God! Open up the fucking briefcase and show me what you got mumbling under there! I swear to god, you guys recorded a conversation?! OPEN IT!"

"Ofcourse."

"..."

"..."

"fuck, fuck, FUCK! FUCK! CLOSE IT! SHIT! Holyshit!"

"That is what you asked for"

"..."

"Is it not?"

"..."

"Why are you getting up to leave? Our exchange has not yet been completed, 'Daniel' "

"You sick bastard. That was the weirdest FUCKING thing I've ever seen!"

"I believe that was your deceased mother"

"Fuck you! That wasn't my mom, that was some...some... kinda weird...creature...shit. I don't know what the fuck that was! That 'thing' barely looked human. What the FUCK is this? how did- how did it even- And it was crawling out of your briefcase. What the FUCK dude?! That's like, physically impossible. It was crawling out of...fuck. That small little briefcase" 

"That is of little importance to me. I complied with your request and gave you your deceased mother. And that is how deceased humans look. I have given you what you requested. I still require the contract to complete our exchange"

"This thing?"

"Yes"

"This...this isn't...I don't feel right about this man. I thought you were with the government or something. Some kinda stupid joke man, I'm outta here"

"I know nothing of humor. I know nothing of games. As I've told you already. But i have given you what you ask for, your mother in deceased form, yet you have not completed your end of the bargain. In the result that you refuse to comply with your agreement, I am forced to forfeit your life"

"Fuck you!"

"..."

"uh! Hey! I can't breathe! How are you doing this?! I can't breath!"

"Will you complete the transaction?"

"..."

"..."

"Yes! Ok!"

"Very well"

"Awww, how the hell did you do that? You didn't even touch me"

"I can do anything"

"..."

"you may sit beside me if you wish"

"What am I, crazy? You just tried to fucking kill me!"

"I will not hurt you if you comply with your end of the agreement"

"But...ok. I'll take a seat. Just give me a second. I just wanna, think about this"

"Would you like me to retract the gift of your mother?"

"What?! No! I don't want my mom to die again"

"But she is already deceased"

"Can you at least alter her appearance into a normal one"

"You mean, to look like you"

"Not 'like' me but you know what I mean"

"Very well. She will be waiting for you when you arrive home"

"Uh...ok"

"You may hand it over"

"So...is this really a deed to the world?"

"That is true. And i don't know how it wound up in your hands, but i assure you it will be much 'safer' in mine"

"Should I.. do this?"

"Why does it matter? Some say this world will end in fire anyway or destroyed in some form or another"

"here's a good question. What are you? Who sent you?"

"You should already know the answer to that question"

"That old man? The one who gave this thing to me, he sent you?"

"I know nothing of this 'old man' you speak of"

"I don't...i don't feel right about this. I own the world! I should just keep it!"

"Would you like me to retract your mother"

"No! I told you! I just...don't feel right"

"That is of little importance to me"

"Hello?! I'm 'selling' the fucking world! I shouldn't be ok with it"

"But you have your mother"

"You don't get it..."

"What do I not 'get' Daniel?"

"No! Forget it..."

"..."

"What are you?"

"That is of little importance"

"But if you're not human, why do you look human?"

"This was chosen as the only form humans can understand"

"Hope you're comfortable in that human skin?"

"No more than you are in those human 'clothes' "

"I still don't feel right about this. I mean what are you? Are you an angel?"

"Angel?"

"Yea"

"Would that make you feel better?"

"..."

"If I told you 'what' I was, you're mind would not be able to comprehend it. So it would be healthier for you to believe I am one "

"What? But you don't have any wings. can you fly?"

"alot better than you can"

"I can't believe that old man owned the world? I just though he was some crazy bum"

"The 'old man' who gave this to you. What was his name?"

"A..Adam"

"Yes. He was a...curious human"

"He said he lost his wife a long time ago...is that what he got when he gave this to me?"

"Yes. He was a.. curious human"

"..."

"Ahhh...are those human tears? I've never seen them before"

"I don't want to sell the world... this must be how the world ends"

"I see. You think this is the first time I have done this. But I assure you, I have done this hundreds of times before. Your world has lived beneath my lenses for longer than you know"

"Are you immortal?"

"Immortal?"

"y'know? Live forever?"

"That would require time. A concept that seems to only exists amongst man, if that is the case, then no. I am not- from your expression just now I can see you can't comprehend such an existence, so i'll say that I do posses characteristics of your immortal"

"so.. you are immortal?"

"Yes"

"I want to be immortal. Like you"

"If I am immortal. I am immortal because I chose to be. I can be anything I want and so can you."

"What? I don't get it"

"I see. That is why they are in such a state."

"What?"

"You men think it impossible. When what I reveal to you is true. And regardless of what you chose, because it is truth, your opinions and emotions will never change that. Surely, that is 'immortal' if immortal is what you seek. But that is of little importance. What is important, is you perceive these things are all impossible. Only accessible in dreams. You perceive them as pure and callow frivolities, untouched by a world full of grotesque, worthless beings, wandering forlorn" 

"I don't get it! I can't-I can't achieve immortality, it's impossible"

"Very well. If immortality is what you desire, then I shall retract your mother and after our conversation is finished, I will transform you into a thought. Surviving in the limitless space of the ionosphere, sure to wander its vastness in solitude where there exist no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell, no relative or companion forever--not only a thought, but the only thought within existence of human knowledge, amongst a sea of vast emptiness Inextinguishable and indestructible." 

"No! No! I want my mom man, c'mon! Stop doing that! But, if I sell this to you, will I, y'know, burn in hell?"

"Will that make you feel better?"

"..."

"your answer"

"Yes"

"..."

"Answer me!"

"Very well"

"Here take it!"

"Goodbye"

"Wait! Wait! Jesus christ! Wait! What the fuck are you?"

"You have asked me this many times before and i have answered that it is beyond your comprehension, for, if human thought were capable of comprehending my form, it would collapse into itself. The closest I can come to describing my form without destroying your fragile, feeble minds, is by saying that i am not here"

"I don't get it! What does that mean?!"

"When you search for me after this conversation is over with, as you're sure to do, you will not find me. for i am the manifestation of man's inescapable fate, albeit his idiocy and this recital shortend to the point of risking moronity, our meeting will haunt you for the rest of your existence. Goodbye. For 'I' will never see you again"

"Wait! Where you go?! Wait! Come back!...who are you? This all wrong! It wasn't suppose to happen like this! It was just suppose to be a fucking joke. What do I do now...?"

The Decision

Somehow, she'd managed to marry all three of them. Without their knowledge. And after they found out, some how, she was such a muse, that none of them could live without her.

Neither the musician, the painter, nor the poet.

All three of them sat around a table and stared at the gun.

So this is how the decision was going to be made.

It was hot. And next to the revolver laid two bullets. Winking back at them in that goddamned afternoon heat.

All three of them were down to their shorts. With t-shrits tightly wrapped around their heads to catch the sweat leaking from their tar black dreads. The anxiety didn't help.

Anya spit his tobacco onto the dusty wooden floor. Sweat trickled down the cheek and armpit. And melted the crack of his ass.

Chukwu lifted his foot and wiggled off his shoe. Then pulled an old, crooked cigarette from out his sock. And lit it with his last match.

"Fuck," he said quietly, which turned to a yell in the silence.

Then he looked out the window.

"One window. One cigarette. One match. One bullet.-"

"One gun!" Aziza cut-in, snatching the gun and bullet from off the table.

He started loading it.
Chukwu looked to Anya. And on another exhale said,

"Anya, how old are you today?"

"27"

"You know, if you die today, your artwork will be famous"

"Why's that?"

"I dunno. That's just what happens when you have artwork and die at the age of 27"

Anya looked to Aziza, who in-turn looked to Chukwu.

Aziza growled.

"Fuck that! Can we just get this fucking over with?! It's bad enough I'm spending my last few precious moments on this God-forsaken planet in an old shack with you two nuts. And I'm hot!"

Aziza heaved out a heavy sigh as if he were a coffee filter, filtering out the pacifism and retaining the anger.

Anya turned his attention back to Chukwu,

"Well, I'm a poet"

There was silence.

"No matter what age I die at, my work will be famous. Just so long as I die first!"

And then they both laughed hard.

"I hate your poems" Aziza snarled, "Their always too long!"

"What about my stories?"

"I hate your stories" Chukwu cut-in, "Their always too short"

"Oh.."

Anya was lost for words. So he looked defeated and spat again. This time in a jug housed near the door way entrance.

Chukwu leaned back and his chair croaked.

That's when Aziza slammed the gun on the table.

"Fuck! Guys, we doin this?"

"Yes. Yes. Let's start" Chukwu said, pulling forward from his lean.

And it was silent for a moment.

Then Aziza lifted the revolver as if it weighed a ton, and held it shakily to his head.

"O.K." He whispered.

The barrel pressed hard against the wet head wrap, squeezing out a few drops of cold sweat. Then he narrowed his eyes to the blades of sunlight spotting the table from the window.

"O.K." He said again.

And then he squinted his eyes and began analyzing that sunlight.

Chukwu sighed.

"OK. OK?! Give't'ere kid"

"Huh?"


"The gun. Hand it over. It's going to take you forever to pull that damn trigger. This shit could take all day. And I'm hot!"

Aziza stared at him with a questioning look. Forcing Chukwu to reach over that table and yank it out his hand.

Chukwu settled back in his seat and gave the revolver a once over. Then he took a hit.

"Here we go."

and pressed hard against his temple.




It took a half an hour but they finally came down to a decision.

Anya exited out the back room of the old starving artist cafe.
From his white t-shirt to the crinkled, cargo shorts taped to his thighs, he was drenched in sweat.
A dirty cigarette dangled between his lips. Hanging on the brink of extinction.

He walked down the stairs, past the mundane patrons, past the hand waving clerk, and out the door.

It was five pm in the city
The sun was bright.
And the heat wave stuck him like a hot knife.
It showered him, almost mercilessly, with heat and more sweat.
Anya scrunched his face up as if he were on the toilet.
Anya sat down at a broken table and pulled out a wod of old newspapers from his back pants pocket. and discarded the bundle in a trash can beside him.

Then he opened a notebook, pulled a pen creased between the pages, and stared at it. His cigarette had gone out.

There was half lit cigarette staring at him from an ash trey. Anya picked it out of the ash and pressed it to the tip of his cigarette until it began to glow.

He hid himself behind things like books and chess, and opera and poetry. He was the shell of an idea he once had as a kid and got stuck. There was a brief pause, at that moment, where he sat there holding on to the half-lit cigarette.

The two people who understood him most in this world, were now gone.

"Oh no..."

He whispered like something trapped and dying.

But Anya had more inspiration for his poetry now. So he sat and smoked until he was ready to write some more. Then he began scribbling nonsense on the lined sheets of notebook paper.

i ENVY people 

who can laugh at themselves so easily. With nerves of steel. It's like they can see something I can't see. They see past all the blury and fuzziness that clouds my eyes and makes me question everything I see.

Been a while since I kissed this page.

But i feel like the older I get the more I realize how ignorant i am. I write because somehow, I feel like that makes me smarter... what does it all mean?