i choose to measure
my happiness in body
heat and orgasms
Last Day Of Marchthe rainLast Day Of March by AJezzy
on the front
an image of
be the same.
its quite like still birth
The Real Chronici raised my beer bottleThe Real Chronic by AJezzy
towards the sky, watching
the sunlight obscure through
the amber bottle. slowly
it tilted and i listened
to the last few drops
sizzle on the pavement
between my feet
the crowd flew by as
my mute voice sang
out "support underage
and no one turned
around. Blue walked up
and ruffled my hair as he sat
beside me. "hey help
me get this girl drunk
so i can have sex with her"
instantly a man gave him twenty
dollars and a blessing.
Blue walked of leaving me
with my scars glistening in the rare
San Francisco sunlight. a boy
with similar patterns
called me beautiful, gave
me a hug and walked away before
i could respond. i watched
the back of his head long
after he disappeared
knowing we were the soldiers
that danced through gunfire
to help a wounded comrade.
the ones that sit together;
one leaves and both silently
Blue came and went leaving
me with a beer in each
hand to watch seagulls
bombard the pier
with blotches of hate.
i took a swish from the old
i want to write.i want to race past cities and violate my probationi want to write. by AJezzy
feel the quick rush of cars flying by as i sit and wave
signs. maybe someone will laugh at my "i left my weed
in San Francisco" scrawled on moldy
cardboard as i throw my bic in frustration. maybe someone
will speed up as my fifth peaks from beneath my black
jacket and maybe someone will stop, see im fifteen
and say never mind.
but im sitting wedged between an old man and cigarette
smoke, trying to keep my eyes open. the fat guy in the drivers
seat tells me hes not a killer. to go to sleep
and i do.
i wake up wedged behind a trash can to a woman named George
screaming at my swollen face. i want to run but there is a freeway
to my left and a wall to my right so i say put. George makes her husband
Diana come tend to me with meat and beer. i slur
out a few 'thank yous', shove a twenty in my bra and zoom
away in the back of a truck bed like the Mexican i claim be be.
Mc. Donalds has always tasted better when im lit
so this late night escap
Gold LabelJohnnie came to me from his home beneath the sink. I have nothing to give him but hotel shampoo, he tells me not to worry, takes his products and goes home to dish detergent.Gold Label by AJezzy
Months went by and I waited for his preachings to come true, my hair is now greasy, my bagel is stale, my brother is in denial, my dad is Virginia tech in the planning stages.
And my mom lies.
Johnnie finally came back wide eyed and bushy haired. He had seen and applauded my neck snapping and my arms bleeding. He took my good wrist and sliced me open. But I wouldnt bleed for him. Johnnie has always been a friend and gave me a bandaid.
Now I hallucinate
Now I have hate
I have anger
I have my own lies.
Yesterday I peeled off my skin except that around my bandaid. I fed it to the fat yellow cat outside my steps. As he ripped
young at heart...I got a zityoung at heart... by oldest-boy
to remind me
I'm not an
old man yet,
right on the
'round of my chin
the way I would
imagine a cancer-
ous cyst would look,
maybe I'm a little-
bit older than
I'd like to admit.
Your Hair.Your hair is a mess. It isYour Hair. by Self-Intoxication
a flock of birds caught
in a net. It is mixed fruit & dirt &
strawberry patches. It is yesterday,
and it is the way you wake up
in the morning perfectly,
in a huge mess on the floor.
Your hair is a nest for me,
with all the tornadoes
I could ever need.
It is bilingual and it masquerades
as something that knows nothing
It is delirious and smells
like mold in the morning. Sometimes
it looks like spiderwebs after a storm,
but it is its own storm. Sometimes
it lights itself on fire.
Your hair is like a massacre
of dead plums, red-purple skin
rotting. Your skin is a heroin-bomb dropped
on me, leaving me in worldthirst.
Your hair is the harvest of fall.
Your hair is all the stars falling from the sky.
Your hair is in my mouth.
It is like raspberries covered in dust,
fire in smoke,
babies in buckets of blades.
Your hair is a danger sign,
a smoke alarm,
my house on fire.
Your hair is in my
glittering, struggling.i.glittering, struggling. by estallidos
"i am going to make every person
around me as happy as i can,"
i bravely declare.
"you should get a job," you offer,
and i draw a heart on a whiskey
bottle and say that making people
happy is my new job.
"you should get a paying job,"
you clarify, and i fill the whiskey
bottle with glitter and kiss you
until it doesn't matter anymore.
you don't need money if you're
i tell you that i'm going to leave
because even if it hurts now, it will
eventually make you happy, and
you refuse to speak to me for
the rest of the night.
and here i thought i had
all of the answers.
you joke about going to med school
just so you can keep me alive forever.
i joke about doing some nice deeds
so people will write kind things about
me in my obituary.
neither of us think the other
is particularly funny.
you roll over in bed and whisper,
"did you mean what you said, kel?
about making people happy?"
i pretend to be asleep so that
i don't have to tell you that the only
people that i want to
make believewrite me like secretsmake believe by ILoveYouHopie
on a scrap of paper, rolled
up, tied tight with a
bit of red ribbon.
tuck it in your breast pocket,
close to the thrumming
of your too-closed heart.
let paper edges wrinkle
and ribbons fray. love
how you've worn it out.
(if i were your secret, would
you want to keep me?)
my name is sappo
i work in a condem factory
your mom came up to me and said
"will you fuck me sappo?"
Current Residence: wherever the road takes me
MP3 player of choice: iPod touch
Skin of choice: mine.
Favourite cartoon character: Kenny