Ancient Gods Blew Up the Pizza Volcano; This Is How Life Began
I eat pizza three times (lies:much more) a week
because it is better than otherfood,
it is made out of dago magic that was instilled in them by old timey
baseball, mafia movies, and an over abundance of cheap ingredients.
Then the ninja turtle came about, we’ll say, a hundred years later and
demanded that America’s children understand how weak sauce they are
for not eating their ten servings of pizza a week.
Stupid kids, we really should cut their art programs so they can start
to understand the importance of pizza; once I ate DMT
I laid on a couch, closed my eyes, and flew through a tunnel of pizza
for what seemed like two and a half years of ecstasy,
but was really like twenty minutes.
The point is pizza: the compass of the new golden age.
TV said so, can’t you hear it on the wind, can’t you feel it?
Yes. I said dago.
I have decided under a great deal of mental duress, and by a great deal I mean almost none, that I will now use my tumblr for a new and bold reason. You may be asking, “What? What could it be? Sweet fucking Kirsten Dunst tell us what it is you sick ass clown bastard!”. You may be saying that, most likely you are just trying to take a picture of your own butt with an iphone, which was what I initially going to do with that blog but then I decided that I would instead write crappity crap and put up pictures of my own taking which no one in the history of tumblr has ever done.From here on out the only reblogs I will toss into the internet ether will be from other writers and possibly drunk people I live with here in Chicago. Otherwise I’m going full tilt original content. “Who gives a shit about you? You’re a dickface and your poems are for weiners.” You may be saying. And you might be right but you should still listen to me because I am a doctor. I am your doctor and you should listen to me. Do drugs.
They been murdering humans for love a long time before some st.valentine, but still
In the fucking loneliest,
staring out to the bay every night,
period of my life,
I read your words in a letter
as a storm blew up like clockwork
at four in the afternoon
on a Tampa Saturday summer day and as the sky turned black and palm trees became rubber in the rain I knew that I was not alone.
Girls in Nightmares
I saw a ghost of a girl I used to know
in the vapors that came out of your mouth
freezing as the molecules hit the air or was it smoke
from the engine running in your guts.
The vapor became a mist that became a fog
twisting into a torrent of a dozen other girls
I talked to in bars with their words and their tongues
their eyes, there skin, and their vapors in their lungs.