Thursday, January 31, 2008

[small margin poems]

small margin poems
are just like stri
ng: they are never
so short as to ren
der them incomplet

empty house

on nights
when no one is home
i beat off to muscular old men
fucking girls their daughters' age
who mimic the positions they learned
from watching porn on their big brother’s computer

when i cum
my mind goes blank
like a book thrown into the fire
the clarity is the same
as the first few minutes
after you wake up in the morning

in this reverie
i browse through abandoned websites
with my boxers around my ankles
and the sock still hanging from my penis

the internet is littered
with the sloppy personal pages
of grinning 20somethings
ages frozen on the terminal
like it was a tombstone

some must have moved on
to nice jobs and nice families
others must have died
from car accidents or suicide
from bad drugs or good drugs

they are so beautiful
in these pictures
with their perfect hair and perfect teeth
they pose like fashion models
their outfits hug their tight bodies

i was that age once
but i was never beautiful
my youth came and left
like a delivery man
at the door of an empty house

Monday, January 28, 2008

i and i

where were you last night?

i went to a party.

was it fun?

bob marley’s son was there.

which one?


which one of his sons was there?

oh. i don't know. he had dreads.

was it damian?

which one is damian?

he's the one that raps.

no. his name was JAH or something.

what was he like?

i fucked him.