The Blog

brief exposures of now imprisoned men

#5304 067734

oh, the pleasure i get from knowing
that hell too must open its lips
to take me in

how i’ve masturbated!
to the thought of eyes bulging
surprised— at how big i am
 
 
 
#0804 065304

when i was fourteen i discovered biggie
the sex pistols and prince
i knew what every women wanted
and i fantasized about stripping

i’d heard you’d get to swing your dick
all day
that you’d how’s your mother? men your father’s age
and that didn’t sound half-bad to me
 
 
 
#3704 060804

guys, don’t have sex outside!
you’ll pull out in time

your cum will hit the ground
and you’ll know exactly
where it’s headed
and where it’s not

and you’ll smile
at having gotten away with it

and i swear you’ll try it again
 
 
 
#7734 513704

the best feeling in the world precedes the question
“more?”

you give someone a book
an album, a movie (a part of you
that you hold dearly)
and you watch as their eyes water
and grow
embodying wonderment and grandeur
as their head moves along
taking it all in
and then, done, the question comes, and you too
smile

william james sidis

it’s the pause after
the question’s asked that
eventually kills you

the whole room turning its head

a couple of definitions

to enjoy something means ‘to be in Joy’

     ex.  a man feeds a baby ice-cream
            and the baby’s eyes croon of her being in Joy;
            dancing, for all of two seconds, in front of this man

     ex.  a baby sees ice-cream fall on a man’s shoes
            and her self-given round-of-applause speaks of her
            accomplishment and enjoyment, and the whole
            damn restaurant turns its head to see what the fuss is about

to be enthusiastic means ‘to be filled with God’

     ex.  a baby sees a man getting up
            and still full (filled) she raises her hands
            demanding he come back, and let her dance atop his feet again

hear i am

the next time someone asks me
                                          who are you?

i’m going to tell them
                                          i am
                                          twenty-two years’
                                          stockpile of seconds

                                          AND THEN SOME!
                                          standing before you

i can picture it now
they’ll take me for mad
or romantic
when i’m neither
but i’m still going to say it
because
                                          i am
                                          twenty-two, and alive

and i don’t care if you mistake
the sound of snow rolling
down the mountain for danger
or youth

forgive me

flagellant forgive me

William Kentridge, Flagellant (1996-7)

i write this while i’m in the mood of writing.

i’ve not yet learned how to face the void (myself)
when i’m not in the mood.

i’ve tried though, so forgive me. and!
i’ll try again, tomorrow, i swear.

a study of delicacy

what eyes you have (piece two)

what eyes you have (piece one)

how to waste a morning driving around england convincing yourselves you should break up because of a certain mixtape

what adam writes

because there are moments

(like when it suddenly hails
in spring
on sunday
when you were just about to get up
go out)

that temper you

then remind you

that if you had everything
(and i mean everything)
you’d stay in bed all day
with her