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
An Entire Poem.There are a lot of thingsAn Entire Poem. by Self-Intoxication
I think you won't like about me,
like the way I sometimes
kiss you with poisons in my mouth,
like you may never want to kiss me again,
if I do that too much. Or maybe
the way I look when I pray
after I've torn off
my entire face.
I think you won't like the way
I sleep and eat and breathe.
Today I didn't shave my
legs or anything else
my hair looks greasy with oil
because I hate showers. I wish
that I were prettier, skinnier, richer,
I wish my vocabulary were bigger,
I wish I were a woman, or even
a girl. I wish that I did not hold
in my love, my affection,
my entire self.
We will live in a pink and blue
bedroom because girls
live in unicorn rainbowland
and guys will just
put up with that shit.
My father tells me that I don't need my meds,
I am stronger than that. I take bong rips
and draw pictures, the way trees look
mangled in my mind, I draw the beach
but I never go outside.
You are here,
to give me a hug and a car
I want to write.At 4:30 in the morningI want to write. by Self-Intoxication
I race on my bike to your house.
I wear your T-shirt and sweat pants
so I don't get raped, and because I want
to bring your belongings back to you.
I crawl through
your open window
and think that someone could easily kill you
with a silencer and a black pillow and
you wouldn't even have time
to open your mouth to scream.
Then I say:
I love you.
I want to write a love poem about you.
The moon sparkles
behind the blinds
and I want to reach for your
dead hands and put them on
my throbbing sweating chest but sometimes
I fear that they are maybe made of clay
or are someone else's entirely.
I want to write a love poem about you.
I haven't slept since the pills I found in my pocket,
I couldn't sleep
I couldn't sleep I couldn't sleep it reminded me of when
I was a teenager I want to write a love poem for you.
You are sweeter than the honey,
than the fruit, than all
the women in the world.
How can something so sweet
crave someone so sour.
I want to write a love poem.
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