(Source: kim-jong-chill, via skubjones)


source x

grey clouds last day of august

i came out impossible to entice
they broke the mold when they made you,
said my father,
and i resented him for it,

i came out impossible to entice,
the doctors took a healthy pulse
it was a healthy baby
and my mother was beaming,
but my beating body fooled them,
they didn’t see the stillborn bits,
the placenta had more life,
pink and gelatinous,
it shined at least
but the light hit me
and withered,

forever an adolescent,
and befriending the fools
who made a philosophy of it,
i grew in not up,
arrogant and dead-eyed
teenage waste in a teenage wasteland
surviving in stasis
diet of dead daydreams and

long ago,
I rubbed the eraser head
atop the pencil
down to nothing,
or almost nothing,
only a little rubber nub,
and it smudges the paper
and the sharp edge of the metal
scratches holes,
and it seems to mean something

Tags: poetry

From “Feeling, Being and Sense of Self” by Marcus West

From “Feeling, Being and Sense of Self” by Marcus West

"The reason we go to poetry is not for wisdom, but for the dismantling of wisdom."

— Jacques Lacan. (via mfs)

(via sinthematica)

so dead today by carrie linsday

wow, feeling so dead right now
i went on facebook & felt dead
i went on tumblr & felt dead
I went on twitter and retweeted your joke about serial killers
and then felt dead

feeling so dead right now
i look at my body and think, what the fuck is this
i look at my skin
it looks disgusting
it’s stretchy and has little hairs growing out of it
fine little hairs grow out of my skin and it disgusts me

i poke my fingers into my ribs
i feel my ribs and they feel like barbecue
i realize i am meat

feeling so dead right now
i get coffee and then
i feel hyper and dead
i spend ten minutes examining my butt in a mirror
all i see is two large avocados i can’t eat
they are not yet ripe
i want avocados on toast
i feel so dead

you’d think i’d not be used to feeling dead
you might think i was complaining
i really don’t know what i’m doing
you may not believe me
maybe you shouldn’t

i hate my hair
i can’t decide if it’s stringy or what
i am sure i hate it
today i am sure i hate my hair
i’m not sure if i’m alive

i remember swimming in the lake
ancient pines around the rim
and the smell of them
motorboats in the distance
mountains in the deeper distance
lazy and low

we paddled the canoe out to the little island
the lake was golden brown like beer
and it foamed on the shore also, beerlike
light played in the dust in the lake
minnows darted like tiny flecks
we got to the little island and tried to build a fire
all we got was smoke,
the wood was wet
it smelled musty like wet wood smells
the bark flaked from the sticks like a facemask
we talked for a little on the island
and i peeled the bark from several sticks
without noticing
somewhere across the water were loons
you said they imported the loons
they were never here when you were a kid
i said i was glad they did
it was nice
and you shrugged
there was a tiny buzzing
mosquito in my ear
it made my ear tingle

the house faced west
and every day the sunset at the lake was the most beautiful sunset
you took pictures of all the sunsets
like your dad and your grandad had
you showed me the photo albums
hundreds of sunsets
and every sunset was the most beautiful sunset

you put the sunsets on facebook
you got a few likes for them

a kid on a fixed gear almost got hit by fruit truck
he skidded like mad right across the block
the fruit truck slammed on its horn for like two minutes straight
the noise jarred me
i wondered if i missed you

more tumbled tweets about poetics

more tumbled tweets about poetics

Tags: poetry

tweets abt false art and false activism

we think it’s not enough to just be an artist. like somehow it’s self-indulgent to just be an artist, & you have to offset it with activism

or you have to make your art conspicuously “socially aware” so that art is subsumed into activism

i’m not against supporting “causes” of course… but don’t do it out of guilt, do it out of love.

we created this guilt back in the 20th century when we decided art wasn’t “about” anything. & it got sucked right back inside its own navel

being artists makes us guilty because our idea of art is all about self-indulgence, and creating a cult of personality around the artist

an artist is always going to have to fight accusations from within and without that they think they’re too pure or whatever for a “real” job

if you’re an artist, the joy, commiseration, insight, etc. that you provide in your art—that IS your activism—keep supporting “causes” but

don’t let people or your own superego tell you what you do is worthless simply because it’s art


i do things in basements i’m not ashamed of


you’re right
i am that
oh i am so that
this is true
that’s right,
you’re so right.

i guess i should change huh
prolly not going to tho
straight up

barney the purple dinosaur
told me to be myself
and god damn it
i will not fail barney

i will be myself unto a five car pileup
i will be myself unto a perfect storm
i will be myself unto nuclear holocaust
i do not give a fuck and i cannot express that enough

i will be myself until it pulls everyone around me down
i will betray my loved ones to be myself
i will sacrifice my job and my education
i will live on the streets and beg bourgeois people for change
and even if they give me change
i will still tell them to fuck off
if only i can keep on being myself,

my will is made of reinforced titanium alloy
you need to understand i’m a fucking alloy
you cannot possibly underestimate the amount of fuck i do not give
i will be myself forever
even if i fail, even if i realize i’m wrong
i will still be myself
i’m committed and it scares you

barney i got your purple back
i’m a dinosaur too

Tags: poetry

"I am scared, sometimes, to own anything, even a name, let alone a coin or shares in oil, the munitions, the airplane factories. I am scared to take a proprietary interest in anything for fear that my love of what I own may be killing somebody somewhere."

— Thomas Merton

think about it
btw read nausea by jean paul sartre
thx have a nice daye

think about it
btw read nausea by jean paul sartre
thx have a nice daye