Sucker

French inhale and throw stones at corpses
Don't sit around and think
Talk and sit and suck smoke from stems of roses

When we walk don't touch me
Don't brush your cold body against me
You remind me of my grandfather's dentures: useful but dead

Square lights and jagged teeth or houses
Cats call at us and ask why our legs aren't bare
And we ignore, vapid, empty people

And we inhale the whole world
I imagine we could swish blue vapor through our teeth
learn from it, taste infinity

Our brains would shake our hands

Po-em

We smell urine but taste oatmeal
In summer sunrises seem too melancholy
Sunset senses the broken day

When I stand with my hands in the air
I think about trees
Spindly, reaching, wrenching the sky apart

There are a lot of shitty bathrooms
In the mid West
Words scrawled on walls, the smell of rebirth

We are wild life in a world of muses
Handle on the stopped up drain
Shards of splintered fingers dot the sink

My hands are fractured
The pen slips from my grasp
Blood and viscous ink, black and red, my high school

I smell piss, I taste it
I live in the bowels of the universe
In light of fecal perceptions

There isn't really much light

Putting off French Assignments

I just discovered that I am facing the ultimate struggle.
Who am I?
Never before have I asked myself this question. I suppose I took for granted that I've just known... To be honest, I'm slightly excited to discover the answer to this question. However, the trials of discovery are beginning to wear on me.
Don't fret. I'll survive. But, I may be persnickety, so beware.

Lately,
I've been writing in the music room.
I've been writing.
I've been complacent.
I've been waiting for April 10th!
I've been busy.
I've been dancing.
I've been tired.
I've been eating Reeses.
I've been drawing. Poorly.
I've been to meetings.
I've been missing New Orleans.
I've been thinking about cats.
I've been playing basketball.

Now,
I don't know what to say.

Therefore,
Good night.