Let the Words

I watched Cap with his constant hard on and triple folded neck, jam the face of Vict, the toothpick deep into the anus of Dave the camel "Drink the shit," Cap screams. "Drink the shit" Cap ranted. "Love the shit" Cap vomited. "Suck that shit" Cap raged. Cap's a man with greens he rubs them on his cock every night dreaming of GDP, skyscrapers, and silicon tits. Victs a man born of dirt subsisting on scum collecting in the cracks of his mother's kitchen after I watched Cap fuck Vict to death for power, status, and fame Vict's limbs were hacked off along with his eyeballs and dick shoved into a meat grinder, diluted and blended with piss and sold at the mall for $30 a bottle "Profi Komandir," eau de toilette. A billion tears of irony will drown all those that choose to see.

I lay in the rain with a purple sky, twelve suns swirl slowly without ever setting. My breath is heavy and the air is thick. The droplets of rain are like acrylic paint, forming little dotted mountains of color across my bare chest and legs. There is a kind of silence that feels like heavy stones piled a top my head. I cannot move. The rain increases. Putting the world around me into a slick of fantastic colors of red and green, purple and blue, and gold and silver silver streaks. I am becoming part of a painting, not of my own making. I try to stand but my limbs feel like tree roots being forcibly torn from the ground. I am starting to feel the sensation of drowning. Drowning in a pool of paint. I slough off paint from my face, my chest, my arms, my legs. As I slip the paint from my body I notice my skin has become translucent. I can see the fat tissue and beneath that, the sinew of muscle. Alarmed, I finally force myself to sit up. I gaze at my navel. I can see my innards and pushing

"There's a chaos inside that 'll not die down." Unsteady gale wind whips at hair rips souls from their bones leaving corpses of naked bodies curled and crying, wet and muddy Blackness, sound of breathing a scream that wallows, tares from the intestines spewing brown bile, lead heavy words "You'll not drown in a wake of your own making." Shoving gravel through eye sockets, dreading tomorrow caught in a web of mucus, rotting tobacco leaves, dust of glass sprinkled on tongues Empty bottles of fire sing heavy somber tunes, tumbling off the end of the earth, cutting the heads of goddesses bathing in the stars "Turmoil inside suffocates tomorrow and the next." "I know."

Impatient mother scowls sourly at her children and scolds her husband, silent and seemingly dull, with wide soft eyes, for being a lazy ass. Their youngest daughter of four, bobbing her giant head with an amber green stare, smiles shyly at me in a shopping cart full of children, doughnuts, and diet Pepsi. It's 8:49 AM. Sleeping in a parking lot after another pulsating never ending night of nodding off for fifteen-dollars an hour, a woman clearly Tlingit, clearly drunk, and clearly lonely, asks over and over again "Aren't you coming with me?" There's no response. It's 1:37 PM. Steady clicking, pecking irregular bird, chattering confounding words, for future comas to come, eyes dry, brain heavy sack of fluid and distress, "documentation's for the birds," I say. It's 4:49 PM A day has passed and I am ready for a beer. It's 5:54 PM Cheers.

A man on a busy street corner full of voices and rumbling machines, sits at an eloquent bandsaw with a long line of women, children, and sad little men with humorless gazes. Each person in line digs in their pockets upon reaching the man and hands him a series of cards - credit cards, debit cards, member ship cards, plastic business cards. The man at the bandsaw flips a switch and carefully cuts each card in the shape of birds, flowers, butterflies, and intricate lacing patterns. He hands them back to the owner and they smile, amused. They walk to a young boy who's furiously chewing gum standing next to a sky scraper riddled with scaffolding. Each person with their artful little cards gives the boy their card. He then leaps quickly up the scaffolding, removes the gum in his mouth and sticks the card to the glass/stainless steel building. Climbing down and reaching the ground, the young boy puts another stick of gum in his mouth and waits for the next person. * * * A woman with hair

Waiting in the rain until bones gone soggy blood like slush aching clenched fists The bar rumbles with waves of laughter, old rock songs tinkering of beer bottles ice in clear glasses saw her once, all flesh heavy breathing, in rhythm with a man, the rain slid down her cheeks and collar bones like olive oil, white teeth glowing in the twilight wide smile thanking god standing under an eave across the street, eating blueberries I witnessed the pleasures of immortality Swaying like a falling alder leaf, her eyes wander lazily trying to remember the ground a smooth wild pendulum "You know how this is young man, without a crystal moon" "I want you in the rain always singing of immortality" Metal buttons, cold wall, starchy stiff jeans pulled past soft milky thighs, rain water warmed by skin twisting, jittery excitement folding, consuming, gripping shallow drowning breaths until life is knotted loosened again, drained already forgotten Leaning now, buttocks in hands smel