personal easter

on the third day i rose
skin melted off of my hand
mixed with acidic day old apple juice
and carrots
stringing like syrup
as i struggle to bring myself back to life.

jolted with electrolyte imbalances
after compressions on my stomach
leave me twitching on the tiles
as i melt within their cracks
trapping ticks ten times their size
filled with kitten blood
puppy plasma
immobilized
beneath fungi toes.

Spider Solitaire

i won't go to coffee shops
i'll sit
in wooden barrels,
filled with premature holiday piss
and my tongue will have been burnt so bad
it's melted off and lodged itself in my esophagus.
my stomach is distended, and every now and again
i flicker in and out of your sight
one moment
covered in desert dust, and cacti cuts on my finger tips
from all the times i wrapped my arms around one
to see if maybe i could harvest it's life when it's needles pushed through my play-dough textured limbs.

i am no writer.
i am no coffee shop dwelling cliche
--but i am a cliche in that i am alive.
and i'll continue to write
even though it pains me to read it all over again
only to realize every petty attempt at glazing over these meaningless words, after i molded them in to some barely recognizable shape.
big baby brother
if i could do it for you, i swear, i'd grab you by the neck,
and throw you down through the asphault on the street
so you can tumble through the cold hard blackened tar
and end up
inside of a woppers box,
surrounded in nothing that drains your body of bone marrow
as you struggle to struggle with your struggles.
i want a web of my own to stick to
and die in
playing solitare with just one suit,
as pin straight, hair heads,
mozy on in with their type screens
and make contact with the latest mack
who won't back down up off their case.

I don't try to imagine a personal god; it suffices to stand in awe at the structure of the world, insofar as it allows our inadequate senses to appreciate it.
-AE



send me to an asteroid
in a neon pink bucket
after i've dispersed in to nothing but plasma, so i can sit
and cry
or explode
in pure and convoluted awe
watching over the span of a billion light years
just one supernova occur

as i realize
the miracle that everything "is"