grease bath

i eat chili cheese fries
when i think about quitting
my job

a cure for
stoic wrinkles is
to bathe in
fat and grease
slather it
on your skin
grease gives
pimply life to a
bland epidermis

that’s the joy of
America’s finest food
something that has
no hidden agenda
after it hugs your tongue
and slides
down your throat
no vitamins
or minerals
or fiber

vegetables are too preachy
turkey has no substance
french fries know
what you want
simple carbs after a
complex day
piling the chili
and the cheese
in defiance
long after
dietitians
wisdom
and your battle-weary arteries
tell you to stop

i ate chili cheese fries
when she stopped talking to me
and i feel better already

How to Win in Rocket League

  1. Grab some friends and don matching top hats and waffle antennae for camaraderie.
  2. Lose—hard—when your camaraderie slams face-first against a wall of actual skill.
  3. Ditch your friends—they were only holding back the god inside you.
  4. Keep playing after a win. Ride the streak to glory.
  5. Keep playing after a loss. Ending on a loss is bad for morale.
  6. Keep playing after you’ve watched the sunrise out of the corner of your eye on a Tuesday morning.
  7. Keep playing after your teammate tells you to “kill yourself you piece of shit you’re terrible.”
  8. Avoid windows and light bulbs when throwing your controller across the room.
  9. Learn the art of misdirection. Hand the blame off to your teammates, network issues, your controller, the alignment of Jupiter and Venus.
  10. Tame the rat that claws your insides after every point given away.
  11. Celebrate every win like finding a quarter on the sidewalk.
  12. Feel every loss like your family was slaughtered in front of you with a machete.
  13. You have to want it good god you have to fucking want it more than you hate those bags under eyes more than you hate your beer gut more than you hate hearing your boss’s voice bring you back to earth this is your last chance all those pinches on your childhood cheek all those gold stars they have to mean something you were a smart cookie you can do anything you put your mind to they said you have value you have value you have value
  14. Remember to have fun. It’s just a game.

scrape

i want to package my eyes
and return to sender

everything has brown overtones
brown and gray

they see the
sky stained
dirt brown
flowers, gray
a gray child
blowing brown bubbles

they see what
shouldn’t be there

they see ruins and rubble on the
streets of santa monica blvd
bars and barbed wire on the
windows of every
dance floor
night club
kegger
rave

i needed groceries but
i opened the door to a
wall of fire
when people speak
i see lightning bolts
hiding in their words

i need a new thumb
i have a black thumb

i was close to a woman once
but she turned to ash
my friends, ash
willpower, ash
i baked a cake of ash

i need a new brain
my synapses play tricks
on me i don’t feel like me

i feel like
a fourth place ribbon
a participation trophy
broken spine
broken condom

a single cockroach
swimming
in a grease fryer

an antelope in the lion’s jaws
while the rest of the herd
gallops away

i feel like
sodom
atlantis

a blue screen of death
expired yogurt
laid to rest
in the trash

the sound wave of
one man
screaming into the void

a ghost town
a hobo’s box fort

my insides itch
they’re always itching
there are spiders
flying through my bloodstream
fossils under my skin
spikes in my stomach

i saw my future through a sniper scope
with twitchy fingers

i want to be clean
i want to scrape the cobwebs
and ghouls from the attic
i want to look out the window
in the morning
and see white smoke
and a sunflower growing tall
out of the corpse of a goblin

i want
i want
i want
i say
barricaded behind closed doors

Lawn Mower

In a haze of
    throbbing
             music    
                     throbbing
                         temples
                                 throbbing
                                            intentions
our arms
brushed
and

I
had the
    daydream
                     (again)
where our
graves
lie
side
by
side
            with
one
caterpillar
c
  r
    a
  w
l
  i
 n
g
between them before
some
old
pudgy-
            looking
                dude
                                                 (with a giant mustache)
runs us over with a
lawn mower

You
daydreamed about
well
I
wouldn’t know
but a
man
                with more
C O C O N U T-sized balls
would
bet
on the
muscular guy
                (behind me)
with his
C O C O N U T-sized balls

but it
doesn’t
matter

I
got
my fix
without spending
a single drop
of
elbow grease

Poke

i can never remember
how old i am
when people ask
i throw a dart
somewhere between
twenty-three and
twenty-nine

                        (married life
                        is like that)

my wife is a
homely black
leather seat cushion
named peggy or anne

                        (or something)

we’re in a toxic relationship
the two of us
she’s too clingy
especially on
sunny summer days
my skin fuses to her
in return i bathe her
in my literal toxic fumes
from arm pits to ass

                        (an ass that gets jealous when
                        other asses sit on her)

i don’t really like talking about her
i don’t like talking about work either
or my weekend plans
or what I want for dinner

                        (doesn’t leave much to talk about)

when I’m with the people
i love the most
instead of talking
i like poking them
in the arm
            the face
                        the ribs
                                    the nose.
no talking

                        (just poking)

when i poke
i’m reminded
of a time when
a plate full of broccoli
was the worst thing
that could happen

when i poke
i’m reminded
of a time when
a kiss on your
scrapes and cuts
really did make
it all better.

when i poke
i’m reminded
of a time when
monsters were slain with
a plastic sword in the
in the back yard

so i poke
            and poke
                        (and poke)

sometimes
when i’m driving
i see
            bullseyes
                                    on
the freeway’s
center divider

                        (but I go forward)

and when my fingers
twitch on the steering wheel

                        (i hold them steady)

and i keep going forward

                        (and always will)

as long as
            someone out there
                        is poking me back

Milky Way

Chris walks back from the grocery store on Christmas Eve with a bag full of candy bars and coke. The local church is in the middle of a food drive, forcing him to wander through a horde of homeless beggars. He braces for the inevitable approaches of the lonely, disheveled bums—but he gets none. He sighs and eats a Milky Way alone in his apartment.