i don't go out of my way to read poetry, and i don't get the urge to write poetry often. it inevitably gets thrown out or otherwise deleted along with everything else - when that irresistible urge to destroy returns. for some reason, these pooems of mine have stuck in my memory, possibly because most of them are fairly short. none are remotely recent. i've included them to give some ideas about my contradictions, although i think some of them give a misleading impression about what interests me now. without further ado:

muses of my undoing

ubiquitous, omnipotent
they compel me
i careen toward them
they're all i see
palms sweat
jaws ache
skin of my teeth is breaking
at last i let go and fall
into the infinite soothing sea
of hot hard foaming dicks


fuck me

he loves me
smiles sunshine and brightness
he adores me

he shits flowers

i lay back
legs open and say
scrape your heart
against my cunt

his trusting eyes don't comprehend
he lays it at my feet



cringing daylight creeps
over hostile land

daily nightmare begins
wind whines in weary trees

we dress in mourning clothes
soon painted, sculpted, sketched

long hard day's journey
blurs dreams into drugs

we are wasted television vegetables
masters of communication

sun staggers in hopeless sky
stumbles, and passes out



my mind caved in on itself
then exploded into space
i can't get the pieces back
and even if i did
they'd be as flat as the world
i want to get off



two lovers in a faraway land
dream beneath a sparkled sky
wrapped snug in enchantment's coverlet
ravished by love's sorcery