Tuesday, May 3, 2016

hoarding.

i fucked a deer to feel the tension inside
myself again. you can't stop me

from your body becoming eaten
in my tangles.
something is suffocating
from within
the dirt, for once. something is malignant,

weak from awareness and rejection of such
something becoming disjointed though

this is the dirt
for once. continually a story of terrorism

smothers itself lifelessly
even without people. some shit is out there
that not a soul in the population will find out
about.

i fucked useful. am i honest?
i fucked useful not. no none of this, but i fucked hard.

i hurt my habits. they devoured me, diverting
my attention from deprications. every colossal

appetite sees itself, seeks to see itself, something
apart. but no, don't

resist what it is you have. resemble

having enough.
(having enough will never give what
i want. enough
fixates dismissal. )

pry open my jaws to sonorous vibration.
in a shed i feel gnarly antlers
not getting what they want.

my hair slips away
back to a floor.

having life, i am tired
of being a weapon perpetuated by the strokes

of somebody else.
you must duck for cover from the plague

of nihilisms. preserve
your good heart. see the world

as possibilities
without the corruption of seeking permission.