i am
  somewhere between Saturday Sunday and two girls,                                   fuck you poet                                       fuck you too,
                                                                                     lost on me                                          she whispers
   as my interest in talking steadily declines,                                      are you words;                                      in my ear,
   burning away like the cigarettes we nervously suck death out of,                                        2:34                          she smirks, i can
   i rest my head on the wall                                                        wasted on me            smoke                       see her, 
   close my eyes                                                                     is your kiss;
                      I n h a l e . . .
                                                                                     your foreign          distant mist
   and feel the bass throbbing against me ambiguously,                               tongue                from a window--
   like amoeba sex.                                                                  slips into me,        tree's claws. skeletal;
                                                                                     and i cannot          beautiful;
   i exhale, and open my eyes;                                                       even attempt          drooping,
   she’s still there, beaming at me.                                                 to try to think       dying,
   somewhere, in the adjacent mass of convulsing spirits                             about even            waiting for the snow
   another girl is haunting me. yet still I sit in this filthy hallway;              maybe trying          to melt
                                                                                     to understand         in silence.
   alone in company                                                                  you who are.
   (clichéd to all hell; fuck me).
                                                                                     behind beauty             click click
   fast forward                                                                      is you;               the radiator calibrates itself
   lip balm on thick pink lips, they shine                                           you hide behind       the truck drives by and now
   moist and sticky through fluorescent smoke-filled light.                          beauty and            the window is shut.
   in mid-                                                                           alcohol and
   sentence, she slides forward presenting                                           just thinking        .and though that world has vanished,
   two slices of skin which I am too drunk to turn down.                             makes me            . and the moment becomes memory
                                                                                     nauseous.          .  between nausea and loathing
   at this distance all girls look the same,                                                           s   somewhere in a fading nicotine haze,
   with their eyes closed passionately as mine are wide-open like full moons         you make me      d    the trees truly are right:
   gazing elsewhere; anywhere...                                                     you broke me    r                  
   why is she to me less valuable than the other?                                    you made me    a          spring
                                                                                     leave;        w            will
   fuck it--                                                                         the          p              spring;
   tomorrow                                                                          leaves fall u
   i’ll wake up
                                                                                                 d                       waiting for the snow to melt in s
    Dilapidated,                                                                                  e                                                      i
   Dehydrated,                                                                                     s                                                     l
  Demoralized,                                                                                      c                                                    e
 And purged.                                she                                                      e                             . dont be             n
                                              is                                                      n                           .  afraid              c  
   if i make it that far                      the                                                      d                      you.       to              e    
                                            goddess                                                     .                  uns          stop             .    
                                              and                                                        .                h              to              .    
                                              i                                                           .              s               end             .    
                                             the                                                           t                             to                
                                              athiest                                                       h              h                                   
                                              our                                                          e               t                             p    
                                              leaf                                                       g                a         create               a   
                                             has                                                        r                e                               g    
                                             fallen, its spine exposed                                a                 d                                e    
                                               now   it is what it is                             a ev                 t                                       
                         I’m a voyeur;               and i aren't                                w                   ye              anything            e
                         I like to sit back                                                       a                                                      l
                         and watch strange things spring from the annals of consequence.           i                e                                    e                                                                   
                                                                                                    t              f                                     v    
                                                                                                     s,           i                                      e    
                                                                                                        you hate l                                       n    
                                                                                                                                                         .    
                                                                                                                                                             
                                                                                                                                                             
                                                                                                                                                             
                                                                                                                                                             
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             
 Infinite dragon’s breath streaming from purple lips;                                                                                                                                                             
 Stereophonic traffic buzz sings to two lonely stars                                              as of the moment                                                                                                               
 As the lawn-chair weeps midnight dew onto concrete.                                              i am approx. 2 feet tall                                                                                                                
 Even streetlamps                                                                                 the walk i took, a walk through the centuries,                                                                            
 Dare not illuminate                                                                              through my own bitterness and under trees, everything                                                                              
 That which the footsteps of a solitary passerby hides in the night.                              green around me except me; my own aura of boundless                                                                                                                               
                                                                                                  entropy crying.