box for idiots

this
fucking idiot
box

do you
hear?

the
intent?

oh my
god

the
arm of the
king keeping the
peasants
in the dark

because
it’s hard to control an
animal
that isn’t
entertained
by two
bleach blond
bimbo faggots
lip-synching
[insert any
fucking music
here] on a
preschool colored
stage
to the manic cheers of
actors acting
the ideal
you

this fucking
idiot box

the intent

the not so
gentle staff
directed at the
slaughterhouse

do
you hear?

the static
when there’s no
static

the silence
made from background
noise

i’d turn it off
but
someone’s still
watching
so what
the fuck.

another conversation with the mirror

i have
a beautiful
body

you look
like
shit

i think
like the best of
them

you are
a complete
idiot

i smell
like a trillion years and star
dust

you stink
of the nauseating fumes of
nothingness

i make
god
jealous

you get
pissed on by mangy
dogs

i exist
for you to
see

you exist
to torment
me

i hate
you

you feel
indifferent

we share
one thing in
common

we both
kick it to the same
symphony, and
it
always ends
on the same
note.

m.i.a.

lost somewhere
south west, an ass
full of balloons
full of buttons
seeing my life
through your eyes.

met a taco
salesman from the
Philippines. she
shook, while cooking
thick bitter tar,
and died that night.

found my share,
just desserts and
poisoned deserts,
a killers clause,
when you’re drowning,
i’m choking on sand.

spell

a mighty warlock,
constructed from sleep
blurred eyes on paisley
pillows, spoke the infinite
whirring of the fan, the
blessed company of insects
for the lonely little lamb.

a second unexplained occurrence of harry potter sours an otherwise premo joke

…and then she said,
“that’s not my husband, that’s my butler.”
ba dumpumm ting
jeeze, tough crowd. i tell ya,
i get no respect. who doesn’t like
a good incest joke? alright,

here’s a good one,
you will all like this,
especially you lady,
in the third row,
cuz you look like a snake,
that’s okay,
my aunt mary was a viper. alright,

so there’s this long part and
the punch line is:
parsleytongue
…
you know, like the
snake language in
harry potter, nothing?
i know, another harry potter
reference. what
the fuck is wrong with me?
i got to stop.
it’s just not professional.
i don’t know,
i’m laughing. alright,

so this fork walks into a spoon…

a story book

a twisted plot
involving hamburger
helper, but that
could all be solved
with stem cells

a dirty thought
involving rice
a-roni, but that
would all be stopped
with chemicals

a lazy haze
involving jingle
bells, but that
should all be silenced
with leap of faith miracles

a tired twin
pinned down
tagged out and
tagged in.

drip drip

like a fiend
inject pink flesh
straight into my eyes

it’s showing.
i’m looking.

sick of bumping
bumpers hard
pressed to split
jean seams
too big to pump
by hand, not enough
juice, I need more
juice. A steady flow.

the leaky faucet
next door flicking
beans in the window
looking for a plug.