Oct 05 2014



This summer I broke

the neck and killed a bird.

I didn’t kill my father.

I didn’t kill myself.

The dogs had gotten the bird

The way my father had gotten

me. The way the cancer had

gotten him in the gut.

At the carnival of death

there is face painting

and no 1 to say goodbye

to, since everyone is a prism.


Fireworks sound like ______.

Fireworks are confusing

like shock treatments my post

traumatic stress disorder.

I wanted to look at the world

like a baby who’s never been

alone/afraid. Every three

minutes someone dies of

my disease which is a queer

disease disease of degenerate

poors and artists and fuckups.

The president says mental

illness but the war wars create

more and more and more.


I give my lovers my disease.

I understand why they leave.

I activate all their hidden symptoms.

I need to be responsible

with my disease.

If only there was a condom

for the soul,

I swear I’d wear one every time

I’ve started being upfront with

people about the risks

of loving me, if only there

was some way they could know

without me saying it, a tattoo

or a pink triangle or a noose.


That terminal destination.

The light at the end of the terminal.

The angel lust and the fish breath.

The doctor says autism might be

evolution and depression is

a gray veil over reality & the voices

speaking from beyond the veil

bursting the blood vessels in your face

drying up the tear ducts & breaking

the skin of the seed to the soft part.

When is it right to reach in & pinch

the peanut gland inside the brain?

Everyone deserves a party, a wedding

of themself to themselves. A time

for making everyone listen to your

favorite songs even if your voice isn’t

as great as it could have been if you’d

applied yourself. Isn’t that what this is

all about? When is it okay to throw in

the towel or to hang yourself with

the towel or to invite your family over

to administer a lethal dose? When

there is no one left to invite over.

The lethal dose can be slow & invisible.

Some people might just think you

found new friends. A lot of people will

think it’s not that bad or it’s just a phase.


After the genocide the Rwandans

had to expel western therapists

for making people depressed:

They don’t bring people into the sun.

They don’t use drums to start the heart.

They don’t involve the community.

They take people one by one to a dark room

and make them talk about sad things.

I like music because in my imagination

I’m dancing all the time.

I stopped dancing.

I had a panic attack.

I couldn’t handle the teachers

touching my body.

In my third eye I’m dancing

like Nicki Minaj just because

you can’t see it doesn’t

mean it isn’t there.

In the future I’ll be better

at someone else’s wedding

clapping for what love can do

when the stars keep aligning.

This body programmed so

early on to distrust itself

reverts quickly to default

& resists attempts to defeat

this virus which prevents

song & dance. Thankfully

the radio waves wash over

those brains languishing in

the surf, the voices of the

mermaids singing don’t stop believing


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