1nn32dem0n5

[1nn32dem0n5]

All good writing borders on philosophy but if it pushes the boundaries too much it becomes trash; too little and youve got yourself a best seller. Its a fine line to walk, and so few have.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

men, when they reach a certain age, turn to art, when they are done with sex without realizing that sex, done right, is art.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

vanity and silverfish

silverfish slither across my poems and drunken ramblings and all i care for is that they don’t get too close to the cocaine because god forbid i have to snort a fucking silverfish! i’ve never written this much while wired before. i feel euphoric to the point that i don't want to write; i want to writhe and dance and jerk off while giving a presentation in front of prospective investors for a company I am CEO of, i want to dive off cliffs and snowboard down mountains with little to no snow. i want to eat pizas by the diameter, to share my bed with scores of women: fertile, menopausal, slutty, religious, alcoholic, stupid, scientologist, unshaven, on the rag, but please hold the fucking models - there’s nothing I hate more than fucking models, the vanity; the vanity! i cant stand that shit, you can be a nine or ten or whatever but vanity is my least favorite thing to fuck, "get over yourselves" i want to say, but why would a sailor stop sailing? be in "the here", and now baby! lets reset the past together, I didn't know ice has negative calories, nor did i care. want to eat this silver- fish? you think they taste good? look how thin they look! eat it, eat it for me, yeah, it's kinda hot!

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[1nn32dem0n5]

sometimes I listen to a song and I'm taken back to a small room in a small apartment; I'm entering into that building, climbing those those stairs, and the world is beautiful once again, if only for a moment, even if just because I forget that it isn't.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

the sun brings out the poems

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[1nn32dem0n5]

the best poem in the world

yesterday i wrote the best poem in the world. words flowed smoothly, elegantly, fell in just the right place, at the right time, with perfect count of syllables and sweet mellifluous diction. the prose was crisp like fresh picked lettuce and heavy cucumber slices with just a bit of salt. reading it began with clear water from the filter poured into a never used glass. It chills it slightly. condensation forms on the glass and you pick it up with your coarse hand from chopping wood and artificially inseminating horses and you spread your thin bird lips and gulp it down, your throat gaping open like the wide-cut canals of new york city. it's so refreshing your whole body shudders in ecstasy your bladder voids your colon erupts tears sublimate spontaneously your heart palpitates so unmercifully it stops. and as time slows down demoralized, anesthetized, you simply die.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

hopeless or otherwise

romantics are sad creatures. never be with a romantic you will never be enough and even if you are you won’t; they cling to 'what ifs' they fall in love with moments and ideas and moods and sunsets with paradoxes and all things beautiful and all things fleeting

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[1nn32dem0n5]

the bars

lead us not into the bars lead us not into the nice bars the dingy bars the rooftop bars the familiar bars the new york bars the seedy hook-up bars the basic bitch bars the hidden bars with the entrance in the shitter the open mic bars the karaoke bars the gay bars on polished cobblestoned streets the underwhelming beer bars the bars with a cover the patio bars the bars with three dollar shots the bars where they pretend life is good the bars where you're blacklisted because you smashed a glass and fought the bouncer but it's okay because they distill their vodka with cat piss the bars with the tits and good coke bathrooms the red red wine bars where your friend works and the drinks are on the friend the day drinking bars the birthday bars the bars of sweet salvation lead us not into the bars so we can have a good night's sleep a healthy liver a solid morning’s dump and not much else.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

sweet bird

my student took it at both ends             we raw-dogged her all night; at light she leaves and says, “oh friends             you have my number, right?”

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[1nn32dem0n5]

a small bow legged dog

I saw a bow legged dog Walk like it’s master To blend in

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[1nn32dem0n5]

covid positive bitches

a lady called and she told me i have covid it’s the best news i’ve had all month at least it's not lyme tho who knows, it could be both. fuck.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

Margs

A girl walks in in jeans and tall leather boots; a goddess, with green eyes and short straight blonde hair. I want to weep for humanity such moments are like witnessing God himself. she floats with grace and smiles too often and tears out my heart a year later, in the gym, of all places. sure, I smile because it happened. i'll smile. i'll smile. i'll smile.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

a solid five

her mouth always seemed full even though she wasn’t eating. on the standard frat scale she was a solid 5, at best a side-chick, a lazy Sunday, downtrodden fuck reachable at every three am. what a scene, big milky tits, long awkward legs that have never seen a treadmill, always stoned, always wet, gets off from vaginal alone, and never wants to spend the night because I didn’t never had any weed. we always fucked like rabid dogs and as soon as i saw her walk to the bathroom i wanted her gone. it worked out well that way. she really was a solid five. but tonight she’s in california, and tonight... she’s an eight.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

i’m just smart enough to feel truly stupid

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[1nn32dem0n5]

a guy with a creepy perfect smile offers hugs for free and as he hugs you he whispers in your ear that a small donation would be appreciated and that pictures are 5 dollars but if you tag him in the gram its only two dollars its worse than free its hidden costs

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[1nn32dem0n5]

I can't love you while I'm fat

I'll love you when I'm thin again. I'm beefing for the winter, eating double-bagels every morning, double-toasted, everything and wheat, packed with more cream cheese than sense. I am the grand jew of new york, praying not for redemption but for strength to sin better, harder and longer. I want a tough liver and head than can take a (serotonin) hit. I want a plump domestic girl before the real cold comes in to keep my bed warm and my nerves frayed who forgets to take her pill and lectures me that cocaine is bad, so bad, bad, bad! "I'm working on it, baby" I'll tell her. I'm working on me, my job, my shape; the only thing one can do in America is to work on the self (and commit suicide while workin for another) and halfway lose sight and drown in what one wants, in what one thinks one needs but doesn't. the truest happiness lies in working hardly and living fruitfully. true happines is easy as long as you have health. the rest is fiction, I know this now. three decades have slipped by. that's three lives of a dog, a dozen of a rat.      there's no need for fear. there's no need for more. first come the small things like my double-toasted bagels.

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[1nn32dem0n5]

I can't hate free beer Saturday and high and the immediate tendency is to remodel my state of mind with alcohol but I have to do chest later and I'm not sure what it would do to my ability. At any rate, I figured, one beer couldn't hurt the gains.

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