i spat wine and black globs
became ash became ants streaming
out of the toilet and pooling
precariously near my feet:
a black mass glistening and
writhing like the alien from Alien,
threatening without hate:
i consented to sleep with you but
forbade you to touch my feet.
sit outside and stare at a suit. look
into their eyes and see how they fail
to see you. try to think of them naked
but remember that would kill them. see
through them and into time and see how
little they've changed: ahead and behind
the suit is just
death and wealth
death and wealth
death and wealth
death and wealth
over the earth like
pats of continental breakfast butter
grabbed by the handful and stripped,
crinkled gold discarded.
do not allow yourself
to become distracted.
distraction is as deadly
as a white man.
1) Do you swap brand stories by the chemical fires in the glacial waste of Old New England?
2) Has Kanye's uploaded consciousness upstaged his physical form yet?
3) Did you sneakernet listicles across the Atlantic on a corpse raft after the flood of 2029?
4) Android, iPhone, or a radioactive brick?
5) Which fragmented internet city state has the best memes?
6) Have you found hidden meaning in the miles of scrawled twitter handles and tumblr names covering every gas station bathroom from the Houston desert to the Boise toxic plains?
7) Have you taught Taylor Swift to the mockingjays?
8) Does it hurt to get the implant? Can I see it? Can I touch it?
9) How far down through the crust of impacted garbage and downed skyscrapers does your mesh network penetrate?
10) Did that underground warehouse of surplus google glass make for good DIY sunglasses when combined with the shards of gorilla glass that rained down after the Cupertino Bombing of 2051?
11) You see a tortoise struggling to right itself. What do you do?
for more poetry like this, check out my cyberpunk
and everything else
coming in on the phone lines
the body would die
not my department.
the turrent swung back and forth
and she was lonely.
like badly spliced film
but now after eating poor gurdle?
there's twelve of them
he had no armor
gathering the wild forage
i saw the screen
i need custom work
he always wore his spacesuit
she didn't say a word.
he told the soldier
i will own many shiny
you ever seen that?
but i said nothing
and then i held him away
extending his hand
i owed him money
my mother always taught me
dna death code
the dog was still rather gaunt
look at the weak tree
cry yourself to sleep
i went out on the surface
clanging of cages
She worked quickly now
I was filled with peace and hope
as bodyguards should
“I know what you mean"
"You intend to destroy us"
"Unless you join us"
Same in Galveston:
spiraling out of control.
Glyph 3: The Robots Revolt
all i want is to piss
alone on this mountain away from rude teens
and arguments about hash tags.
i'm not sure how to summarize your day in
like the trees and rocks and
flowers prematurely blooming
i don't love or understand you but
i at least accept you.
suggested hash tags for your day:
hash tag i'll be dead one day
hash tag i hope my body is fodder for flowers one day
hash tag my life is a foil for the steadfast infinity of rocks
hash tag my god is my self and it will die one day too
hash tag when i feel a soreness in my limbs i feel a particular kind of loneliness i can't digitally convey
hash tag i have at least two copies of every friend and i no longer know which copy truly loves me
hash tag great day outdoors
i was challenged to write a poem about a sentient car so uh here you go
my mother: robot shrill drilling my parts together
while dad and dad and dad and dad
made sinew out of molten metal.
out of the belched black smoke
of a factory womb i rolled
onto trailers overpacked with
siblings only i could see.
i can't forget the smiles
of the men gleaming cold
on showfloor after showfloor eager
to usher another stranger
you found me and i hated you.
you ground me down and stared through me
and only at me to judge and pick and re-
configure. my insides boiled over
at the whim of your careless stomp.
i sang the songs you taught me strangled
over wires and wanted to spit them out.
i saw the
i knew fear and joy and you,
then, more intimately than ever: i held you in
at peace now i rest your tool no longer.
in pieces i am whole; in pieces i am total.
tell me you love me and make it hurt.
our ribs are a spear bridge
tearing from me to pierce
into you and it hurts
but we love it like rainbow road
because it is beautiful and deadly
and has no railing.
let's hit boost pads
and go through loops
and look for power ups
and fly radiantly off the track
and die in the stars together
at the back of the n64.
tell me you love me in those stars.
i've burnt every memory onto dollar store
cd-rs and around my body built walls like
snake skin into an upright coffin.
blue and purple are the imperfect reflections i see
of my face on every side and every angle.
in here i am deprived of everything but
myself. i'm in love with false narratives
and dead dreams staring back at me perfectly
preserved but irrationally written.
to molt: i cut the corners of my mouth
and slide each disc in scratching lines
of misperception with my teeth on top and bottom.
my stomach, sick with corrupted checksums, waits to
regurgitate lossy thoughts again tomorrow.
a lesson about swamps for tables in 35 parts
is a thing I made for tilde.town.
read about a swamp.
oh, sweet avenger:
fist my face and pull out my anxieties tarp-wrapped like a river corpse and
mashed together like black mold balled up by shaking fingers.
rub it on the walls and write a poem that smothers
this place with inner filth like waterboarding in reverse
and in slow motion.
now, touch your lips to mine.
shotgun the fetid air from my lungs and
transmute it into perfume designed
by one who loves scent
in the way only a blind person can:
i will love myself like that one day.