im sneaking Gucci Outlet Sale YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL onto every page

May 28, 2013 at 2:08 am | Posted in poem | Factory Outlet store

im sneaking YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL onto every page of Wikipedia
in the hopes that youll stumble across it one day
while researching a paper
or trying to find out if that show
on nikelodeon with the 2 beavers you watched as a kid
really existed
im srry i broke your heart
what other outcome did you expect
when i saw you independent and proud
ive started to build things
chairs and fires and engines
in the hopes that i can train my hands
to know something other than deconstruction

i’m sitting in a waiting room with no clock
but its ok
i was never good at time management anway
there is no time anymore
just the present

and he tips his hat and goes off to buy gum

fuck these nights are killing me
meekly surrendering myself to paranoia
i hate the sun
i am an old shcool vampire complete
with crooked nose
fuck i am already dead
and then risen again
fuck it is lonely to be a vampire


and then you think of it that way
as time not existing Discount Gucci Handbags in any concrete form
just one event after another like a string of christmas
lights except less likely to bring back waves of nostalgia
and you have to pull over and throw up out the window

slam my back against a wall
hold your hand around my throat
while the other grips a knife you got from
i should have left when you proposed we brand eachother


April 10, 2013 at 4:57 am | Posted in Gucci Bags Outlet | Factory Outlet store

put an apple and a plastic baggie full of finn crisp into my backpack and found my keys and went to chinatown in chinatown i went to the asian grocery store in the asian grocery store i took a red plastic basket and walked about a meter Gucci Belts inside inside there were tanks filled with many different kinds of animals crabs lobsters abalones shrimp prawns oysters all of these animals were in water and hanging out aimlessly there was a big tank at the top that was filled with king crabs these crabs were much bigger than other crabs and i guess that is why they cost more money i put my hand against the cold glass of the tank and a king crab stood up and greeted me i felt honoured but also bad and also stupid last week i went to the mall there are a couple malls here gucci outlet but i went to the really big one in the big mall there is a pet store where there are a lot of animals there are kittens you can see from outside of the store i dont have any pets but i went into the pet store to look around i took a squeaky toy from a shelf that was shaped like a cats face and walked around squeaking it at intervals i looked at the arrangement of animals it was a series of glass cubicles inside each cubicle was a creature it was a lot like those vending machines where you put in a coin and get a plastic thing with a toy inside they had a lot of different kinds of puppies they were really cute except they looked tired or worried or bored also inside of the cubicles there was shredded paper since when is it ok for them to eat that i wondered admittedly i wanted to gucci belt play with them all there was one white dog which seemed older that was excitedly hopping around in a pen barking very loudly i started to feel dizzy and scared i pressed my hand against the glass of a cubicle a small puppy jumped and put his paws against my hand through the glass i guess what i am getting at is that i am easily affected by animals in cages

I wrote you a poem,Gucci Belts deleted it and then wrote you this one by Eduardo Quinones

March 16, 2013 at 9:10 pm | Posted in poem | Leave a comment

I follow your trail,

Dead bodies in my kitchen pantry.
I’ve ordered Chinese take out
Come eat egg rolls with me
They took shrimp from the sea and murdered them, we eat the remains wrapped in fried dough.
When the aliens come they will find our fat bellies stuffed with dead animals then put us through a meat grinder and feed us to their pets, the aliens aren’t cannibals, vegetarians maybe.
I want to kiss your eyelids like in the movies, whisper have a nice sleep.
I seem to be able to only write love poems lately.
This is how you make me feel:
I am coming down from a trip, my body is tired but it feels good, like I can sleep in this state for ages and dream about your legs intertwined with mine, we are one or something, touching sounds vibrating on acid. I could die in this trance and not care what lies after. 

Unsent E-mail to a Gucci Belts Right-Wing Friend by Ben Arzate

March 7, 2013 at 11:02 pm | Posted in poem | Leave a comment

My friend,

How are you?

I haven’t read that new essay you posted on your blog the other day. The one about Knut Hamsun’s political beliefs. I’ll try to get to it later today.

How’s your mother doing? You really need to introduce us soon, I really want to have sex with her. I know you think it’s weird, but I do.

Today I went to a used book store I hadn’t been to before. The guy who owns it is an anarchist too. Not a national-anarchist like you, or an egoist like me. He’s a gucci handbags left-wing insurrectionist. He told me he’d been planning to blow up the Iowa Capital Building, but he had a falling out with the people who were supposed to help him. He showed me a notebook he said had the plans in it. I think he showed me the wrong one. There were no plans in it, only poems about eating the assholes of dead young men’s cadavers. The poems were violently beautiful, like that scene in the Django Unchained trailer when blood sprays over a cotton field. I know you said you hated that movie. I haven’t Gucci Outlet Online seen it yet. I want to, though.

He sold me a book by Rudolf Rocker called Nationalism and Culture. It’s a thick and heavy hardcover. While I was carrying it home, I accidentally dropped it on a stray dog. I felt really guilty about that. I cried over its burst head gucci handbags outlet for 2 hours. I don’t think I want the book anymore. Do you want me to give it to you? It still has some of the dog’s blood and brain meat caked on it.

I’m going to go jack off now. I’ll probably think about your mother while I do it.


Ben A.

there’s no privacy at the sea by candace holmes

January 31, 2013 at 3:59 pm | Posted in poem | Leave a comment

shaving the thick and
curly white pubic hairs
of foam that sprout from
prehistoric broken waves
the briny torrents
of earth’s sweat collapse

“i want to break you
open” like a sand dollar
and clutch your five
chalky dove teeth
in the padded pocket
of my left cheek

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