note from paris

The staircase is a snake to where
regret is eating its own tail
and all the confit is the only thing
I can remember how to say
besides merci. So anyway
last night they blew the tower up
and then I watched a police on a bike
ride circles round a monument
much older than itself. Tonight I sweep
my cigarette butts to the street
and drink campari in a little glass
tomorrow doesn’t need to know about
or come for all I care as long
as there is still some butter left
inside the dish when I get home.

hypothesis

The first symptom of alcoholism
is google searching the first symptom of alcoholism.
It takes four limes to quiet down
the scratching in my brain, in order:
all of them with names like elder gods.

look

its thursday im drunk off vieux carres + im listening to mellon collie + the infinite sadness + if you have a problem with this fuck you

I’m a men’s rights advocate

*farts all over meself* g’day m8

an aggregate

I planted thorns
this weekend made
a sine wave of my blood
across the grass
across the pigeon bones
and mud in quaking throats:
vibrato wrecks
me every single time.

exposition

The next night there were sirens
and I threw myself across the hood
so that he wouldn’t leave, but anyway
the drawing of the cityscape
was still inside the trunk, its homemade frame
no match for what would happen next.
The which I don’t remember dog
was barking static down the modem line:
so 1995 I guess. One day I had a brother
and his name and everything
that came to pass between us
would be living proof the proverbs lie:
there never is there never was a way.

picnic

I’m in the forest with a loaf of bread
and trying to determine why
my throat is killing me. I haven’t seen the sun
like this since I was maybe younger by a year.
Five thousand generations’ worth of hands
have shaped what I am tearing off in chunks
and it will always be this way, just less.
Each minute is a minute I
will never have again and this is one
that I will spend with birds I cannot name.

im the octopus unscrewing the lid of the jar except the jar is my dumb body and also i am dead

hi all ive replaced my wardrobe with that of hannibal’s from the tv show hannibal and also ive replaced my body + soul with a crude facsimile made of mud, upturned weeds + beard trimmings well bye