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This guy at the doctor’s office with the chain wallet and the Ray-Ban eyeglasses -
do you think he eats pussy?
i took a freshman Ethics class and that’s what they said was the first question we should worry about
the second question was about chain wallets but i’m really more curious about the first

ya know
people are pretty fucking careless these days about how they compile their playlists
a lot is at stake, man
good playlists are the only things separating us from animals

I saw your new Good Vibes playlist.
It wasn’t as good as Sun Jamz 2003, but then again what is
What happened to the ‘z’?
why are different things cool now

I saw your new Girlfriend
I never thought you could fall in love with a woman of that face type
it seems like a good flavor
I’m happy for you and your new-face lady.

‘I just really believe in multitasking’
you say after describing a string of infidelities
‘It’s just like switching tabs, man.
Google shoulda fuckin invented interpersonal relationships.’

if you can’t sext and change a tire at the same time
you’re basically a puritan 
and you don’t deserve love

Rainy Day Conversation #8

"Hey kid. Look."
"I’m no kid."
"To me you are.
Can’t even listen,
Can’t even notice 
The perfect things
When they purr at you.”
"The Rain doesn’t purr."
"I drip. So what?
Moral stays the same.
What I’m saying is
Here I am drenching
The whole world at once,
not something I do too often.”

"Then why do it?"
"For you. Because
While the rest of the world 
Suffers the deluge
I’m saving you.
Not a single drop is
Going to break your halo.”

"But why me?"
"That’s a different story kid.
Rather I want you to look.”

"Everywhere. I’m
Soaking the world, and that’s
No kidding.
Even the people inside.
They’re still wet
In their hearts or maybe
Their neurosis or metaphysical
disposition. See, because
I’m putting them
In a place and they can’t
Leave that place or
I’m going to flood them
Back into that place.
But look here, I’m coming down,
More and more, a torrent,
Upon every town
No matter how small.
I have to. I get too full.
And you can’t expect my concern.
None of us concern
About the mortal weight of man.”

"Who’s ‘us?’"
"Still a different story kid.
Point being I will hollow out.
I will end. I always have
Until I fill up again.”

"But that takes time
For more water to ascend.”
"Precisely it. I fall and I rise
And I will do so
Forever and again. And all
You have is time in between.”

"I think I get it."
"Where you going kid?"
"I think I want to
Walk out unto the world
Give out a few umbrellas.”

"There you go. Between you and me man,
I hear your shirt is a good start.”

advice for men

be a man got inside my head as soon as i was alive.

be a man rubbed dirt on my open wound
i got an infection and the gash swelled

be a man made me chase girls laughing and screaming in 
the elementary wind, to push them away when they hovered over me
and i felt wierd.

be a man chased after my brother with an aluminum baseball bat when he took my toy because 
pride was severly injured.

be a man tutored me on the language of
thats gay you like boys faggot
and made me recite:

fuck, shit, ass, damn, bitch, cunt, cock, 
whore, slut, dick, dyke, nigger, chink, wetback,
and every variation of the inevitable hell.

be a man robbed me blind 
with the advice to rob back
and do it so gracefully.

be a man turned my head from beautiful eyes
to the breasts and butts of many
a potential coquette.

be a man masturbated from age twelve
to death because the internet was more
readily available than many a potential coquette.

be a man signed me up for baseball
even though i hated assuming the position
and always hustling for no apparent reason.

be a man gave up pop music
because like only little girls and hot chicks
actually like pop music

be a man cut my hair and enlisted me
in junior rotc because getting yelled at
and push ups and running and sweat.

be a man gave me another beer to wash down
the vomit of the last ten tallboys
just because drunken party night.

be a man loaded another .5
in the gravity bong at 7:30 in the morning
because school is longer than any high

be a man yelled at me and interrogated
what was I thinking for looking up
naked boys.

be a man got inside my head and
whispered the old ways of youre gay fagboy
when i stared at matthew too hard.

be a man laughed at me- a chorus of laughter-
when i read that poem
for rebecca.

be a man laughed at me again for not
making out with her because the conversation was getting good
and i didn’t want to interrupt the goodness.

be a man whispered words of suicide
when i realized i was still a virgin
and so so innocent and sweet.

be a man
gave a eulogy
when i fell in love for reasons not for sex.

be a man died when i admitted forever was i a little boy.

Come on

I wake up covered in it
As if once in the day time
Wasen’t enough
Sticky isn’t quite the word
He would use. He would
Say that he likes the idea and
Probably wants to try it for her
But its just a mess I tell you.
Just a mess stretching the span of
Our undergarments.
Sure it felt great for her to even be
Without it I’d probably pretty
Mammalian today,
But to be honest
It’s kind of like feeding a worm
Cheese and watching it
Vomit up little white, moist, slippery
Chucks all day long.


when I first saw Men In Black, I was worried that my body was a host for a giant cockroach-alien and I would reveal my true form before I turned ten.
I still worry about the same thing, essentially, only there are now a thousand abstract giant cockroach-aliens using my body as a host.


tonight worked out, you guess.
you stare at the tv as your friends watch Louie.
it’s the one where David Lynch plays a producer
who prepares Louis C.K. to host The Late Show.
it’s funny and you laugh at appropriate intervals.

the apartment fills with smoke and pierced children
loudly proclaiming they are dropping out of school
to start clothing lines. you can stay
and get drunk and uncomfortable
or go home and get sad. your call.

you ride home past downtown 
into the realm of the sleeping and dead.
the phrase “the realm of the sleeping and the dead” 
seems dumb in connection to your neighborhood
but you still save it as a note on your phone.

here is what you need to do:

add inscrutable captions to pictures of household objects 
and post them to your snapchat story.
resume reading your Long Complex Postmodern Opus
and put it down after five pages.
sit in front of a blank Google Doc for an hour
and feel sorry for yourself

blame all your problems on your excess of good qualities.
think about yourself until you get bored of it.
you probably won’t.

Mirabile Dictu

she traces patterns
into her grandmother’s talcum powder floor
; elsewhere, with sweating lips,
she whispers,”Ask and ye shall receive.”

walgreens sutra

It is wrong of me to want Intense Normal People Experiences. It is too late in the game. I have obscure backaches and sinus pains. Six months on and my tonsure does not appear to be growing back. I feel occasional guilt at wanting to be a person after years of working to abnegate my personhood. But what else can I do. It is an itch, an itch I was warned about at the temple.

It is much easier to be folded into the material than the obscure and metaphysical. Here, looking out from the fourteenth floor,  I can blend in among my peers and project myself with individuality and purpose onto oily sidewalks. I can be self-motivated and build myself. I can strive and love and sweat and join a new Great Explanatory System.

We live free. Spiritual revelations are available to all of us, counting me, within the fold, here now, riding the vibrations, sensing the thousands of individual self-enclosed enlightenments welling up around me. A thousand wavelengths tapping into infinite spiritual journeys. It is right and it is beautiful


I the Individual Man have a few things owed to me, I would think, right? But at the temple I was denied even wi-fi access, occasional Wendy’s runs, a kasaya embroidered with my name, the absolute basics really.

It was all worth it, then, the period of trawling across half-deserts, learning new and foreign forms of deprivation, living off berries, sleeping in caves. My official job title is still “Cave Dweller” but I am in the ongoing process of rising above my station. It’s hard. The painful exodus from my head into elsewhere. Right.


I am a small man and when I am upset or existentially dissatisfied I tromp around the wood floor with my new big boots on.  Tromp tromp tromp, downstairs neighbors be damned.

 They think I cannot smell the reefer smoke wafting through the vents on Saturday nights. The kids will find any way to get high. They are daring, ingenious. They could be contributing to our nation’s space program, building our infrastructure.  For we have roads and bridges. By the hundreds. Crumbling roads and bridges. All over this land.

I believe that everyone should pay their fair share. I believe we should control out-of-control spending.  I believe the income inequality gap should be ungapped. I oppose fracking. I believe every Americans’ choices should be the choices of him or herself regardless of race, creed, or religion.


I still do not think I have a right to want love except in its most esoteric and mystical form. Everything else is falling into place in my head beautifully but this one is not as it hinges on Others. It is right to want love. It is right and good to reach out and form synergistic connections with fellow energy bodies. They will love you in return.

I even own a flip phone now for the purpose of connecting with other energy bodies. I get calls at all hours asking for an “Ashlee/ey/eigh.” I explain kindly that I am not an “Ashlee/ey/eigh” but I am more than willing to talk about insurance. And yes, this is a new number. And no, I do not know where you can reach her.


I passed a tree today filled with birdsounds. Must have been 100 birds in a smallish tree, a streetcorner pine, no perceptible branches but small twigs against the clouds. The bird-to-tree ratio was astounding. The veils of Maya briefly lifted, passersby felt it too, small metaphysical tremors turning to seismographic spikes, cries of “Dude” and “Wow” all along the intersection, dogwalkers halting and straining their Golden Retrievers’ choke collars, every pocket buzzing with texts from outside realms.

You can physically feel the consciousness rising over the tops of trees and Wendy’s signs. You would have to be blind not to sense it. Enlightenment does not discriminate and neither do I. I the withered bald man in the oversized bathrobe, I at the fourteenth floor window, leading you out of delusion. Leading you toward your own personalized transcendence. Close all your other tabs. Come on and feel it.

prom night

i know less and less what to say
these days, more what to pass over
in silence.
tonight i am racking my brain on a streetcorner,
watching drunk kids from private school proms
(their rich relatives’ beach houses are free for the night
and their fake IDs are all too convincing. it looks
like a good time.)

i could be Transcending Gucci tonight,
passed out on someone’s cold carpeted floor,
getting stupid, feeling ok
instead i pass my name on a bill
tacked to the windows of dark-lit hip shops,
circling the squares’ purgatorial terraces,
never advancing.

let me put on my cool kid face for a minute.
let me stand, hands in pockets, in the back of the warehouse
during my friends’ band’s set. 
let me say these guys suck live
but their EP was ok, or vice versa, whatever.
let me greet all the luminaries, banter a minute, 
tap your shoulder, say we should leave.

you are strung high as i am
in our brief weird communion, sober
and watching colbert reruns, contemplating 
death grips, telling ourselves
this isn’t real life yet.

placeholderforaday: y'all are great! Keep it up! - a 2012 communicative arts major
Anonymous: hey congrats on getting into NYU, Marianna!!!! literally my dream school tbh you're my idol

WOW THANK YOU so much. sorry i am just now seeing this!!! unfortunately i am not going to be able to go but i appreciate it ::::)))))) xox

prescription from the VA

In 6 months, I will be in a college dorm hall bathroom, hand-washing my only pair of Versace boxer-briefs.

6 months before that, I will be in Virginia again.

This is the state of college visits and funerals.


The stuff they use to spruce up corpses is essentially the same stuff they put in Swiss Rolls and McDonald’s cheeseburgers to make them last for 7 years.

Don’t do none of that shit to me.

Just burn me up and fill my casket with chicken nuggets.

Surreptitiously dump my ashes into the pepper shakers at the Waffle House.

No one will notice the difference.

Like, who the fuck uses pepper anymore?

This is 2012.

This is the future.

Read More


dig it


i don’t care about poetry or myself

(Source: awowoowooooa)


do u like what u see ??

You are looking at Orion’s Belt
made of zits
on my chin.

You are the waffle in me
when i am feeling OK.

right now i am not feeling OK.

i am the waffle house fake butter.
Rap Videos are the only thing
propping up my brain-canvas,
and you are the only one sending me links to Rap Videos.

I am thirsty and alone,
popping cashews in the club
because I can’t afford a drink.

also I brought the cashews