Candle Holder

There are a few things that come to mind when I watch the flames belch out between

the trees and the men's shirts burn away. My staring eyes are burned by the smoke

that explodes out and up over the hill. They are burned by the limitless heat of the

flames as they not only lick, but scour every burnable surface and incinerate it.

My eye brows are singed away as I look into down into the fireball.






just some random enters
and then I see
what I want to see
some guy walking down some hallway
leaving
leaving for good
leaving forever
I hope he never comes back
I hope he leaves me alone
with her
I can't understand why I'm so edgy and
I wish I had someone
to explain it to me
so I wouldn't feel like shit
all the time
shit
shit
shit
shi-
I wish I had more patience
so I could get past
some of the stuff
that I cannot get
past
because
of
my impatience
my stupidity
my steak dance
please stop dancing
around the steak
stake my stake
beat beat beat
strike the counter
counter the strike
brilliant
shine with so much
diamond faced hair
and skin
and flesh
no phone
no foam or loathing
Landlines with the spines
old books with no rhymes
and stereotypes and I
absolutely love those pants
they are nice pants
were they cheap?
Yes
they were cheap
and nice
There's a swirling aquaduct
and it's plugged on both sides
and I want some water
but water can't quench my thirst
I really need not
the things you offer
but
I try to take it anyway
little fiddles
with strings in the middle
there's a line
drawn across the desert
you tried to take my side
get back on your side,
I don't want the mountains but
I want the rivers...

Sometimes sometimes
sometimes please
sometimes never ever
ever!
please stay
stay in the desert
with the trees
I'll try
to keep you here
but you can leave
if you desperately
want to
see home one last time.
I'll follow with some kind
of tracking device
and then the people
with guns
and cuffs
and sticks
will find me
and beat my crippled
old-man body
and I'll decieve
you
fill you with
little stories
squeaking squealing
a positive
feeling
not broken yet
I feel like I've been saved
I feel like I've been
laid out on the alter
and I've been sacrificed
like a lamb
like a seed
sewn in the gravel
to grow into a wiry stick
to be trod upon.

Bob the Bundy
like a brilliant
mind reader he can see
I don't want any more
Kill Gore
Kill sore.

We're wearing clothes
with patches in them
like bandaids made
of blood...
it burns like a
cod in the oven.

I almost cried when the
man described his
predicament that
had happened so long ago
so many people disagreed
so many people thought
they could capture my mind
with a lasso
and then throw me to the moon
so many fucking drugs
so much like a crying baby
my friends are all gone
there's nothing to say about them
they left
and I stayed because
I was afraid and
I had things I wanted to do
I guess
I still have the opportunity to
deal with those things later.
so little sleep
such a time
so much time

it's like a villain with
strange things coming
out of his eyes
brilliant
fucking brilliant
like lasers from the vision
pulsating rare
beef and chickens
and pesticides
and suicide.

crazy old birds and the
man who takes care of
them has little wings
that flap and he
lifts off
and scrapes the doors
and the windows
and scares the hell
out of the cats
and the dogs
bark
and they scream
and the people ignore them
naive
not afraid until the last second.

I imagined a blood stained
body in the basement
before my crib and some black
figure on a chair
swirling
twirling I was so frightened
it was dark and gloomy
and terrible
troubled
irreversable
undeniable and unholy
so many things
I cannot describe
so many times I try to feed
my fears into the furnace
and the furnace breaks open
and spits them back out
so many useless times

so what's the plastic knife
what's the fork
with serrated edges
and a clean styo-plate
soon to be
dirtied with some sort of
bloody pulp running
from the organ.

Pipes leaking oils
and stuffed animals
with dirty water masking
their rainbow eyes
and they shudder
and they move
and they half-speak
wiggling and crawling
and finally...
screaming.

When I think of growing up
I think of what I'll have
to do... obligations,
I guess you'll call them.
Stuff that, by the time
that time comes,
I'll be ready to enjoy,
but at the moment I
think and then I try not to
think.
jobs.

Passive peter was his name
passive peter played no game
for passive peter was a pretty
passive person.


there used to be some kind of idol
standing in my doorway, telling me how
How much I reminded it of september...
in my reply I mentioned that
september sucked, and it was just
the beginning of the end of the year...
cold and gloomy
and heart wrenching and
putrid. Like a bat, bleeding
careening, seething
absolution.

I've come up with something
something
weird
and dishonest to myself
and my race
but honest to the majority of other
creatures and objects.
Chairs may find the statement a bit
uncouth.

I find it quite to my liking.