Wrong Size

I’m not sure how to work
this face with this nose
I’m wearing
the wrong size

My voice doesn’t work
No, I don’t know how to work it

If I had the right accessories
I’d know how to move
I wouldn’t appear electrocuted


The mirror lies as usual
and I’m 5’9” in my head
My wrong head.

lol I forgot about ribcages

They didn’t exist either

I just had the mental image of just organ-only people walking around.

Just speaking of the organ-only people.


For some reason, we have skin but

I’ve seen a world without skin
Where someone took his heart
out his chest and traded it
with someone else who offered
him their heart which he thought
was a better heart and I saw children
tying flowers they picked and they tied
them around their intestines and they said
it was so pretty and I saw lungs being rubbed
together as an intimate act and feel my lungs
expanding and you can feel how damp they are
and the texture of the lungs but when people got
angry they could take sticks so easily to the lungs
and it was difficult to put some parts back in place
when they fell out so there were no great sports there. 

"Go eat a sandwich sadly"


Conspirators whose eyes
settle on Roman roads
steady glances cast from
the smell of an old book
I hold out, wind flips pages
on Pointe de la Torche
This feeling seemed made of holes
Sewn up with pebbles and waves
It is the perfect moment after dying
with the tiny violinist
running in terror
from recognition
of oblivion

People Garbage

I hate the people garbage
what day does the people collection service

Arms sticking out of bins
a few legs traveling like tumbleweeds
get onto my lawn and ruin my lawn
and they ruin the neighborhood

Think of the children
Pack them tongue sandwiches
and throw away the people skulls
and people torsos - they take up space

Clean, blank, modern room
To be free of clutter - and people
To have a carefree time
Until the interruption
Sound of the garbage truck
which reminds us there is garbage.


I didn’t know we had a door
Never have I more wanted
Leave it ajar
and paint it something
highlighter colors
I see only a field
I see through
where are walls

if only boundaries could be
bright yellow or bright blue

When was it that I
first had a thought
Have I ever been a machine
Was the machine that I was
ever me
Was that me that was the machine
if I ever was one

If anyone out there somewhere has any suggestions for me, please tell me.

Block of a writer

always existed
have the teenagers
before even the concept
listed in a dictionary
or encyclopedia

i exercise with dictionary
i lift the book

i don’t open it much
it much is not opened

because because
because i say

decorate house
spines of many colors
match wallpaper

very nice
very nice says teenager