salvatore giuliano

ravers

they're not your friends

oatmeal

breakfast of champions

and the poor

when you do it in a rush

you always get mascara all over your face

relieving karmic debt

all this rejection is really making me successful at failure

if i'm not evil

i'm at least deranged
and losing friends
by the second

life

not something i take seriously

yoga

you won't think its gay when i'm doing the splits on your dick like a walk in the park

december is for assholes

if you don't have life insurance

you better not get sick
you better make a list of carcinogens
and never leave the house
you better use lots of hand sanitizer
and always watch your back
and always watch your step
while in the presence of rivets cracks and stairs

make sure to leave a loaded handgun in your glove box
in case you happen to get into a car accident
on one of those days you begrudgingly run errands

lord knows you won't be able to make amends unless you end up dead

pagan whore

going to cuba in two weeks
should be well received
if not celebrated,
and embarrassing

an ode to transit

chewing gum on speed like the patient prostitute you are
of course you wear fur and burgundy lipstick
dundas streetcar going west
straight to russia

news america
get out of debt now
but fix your face first

the perfect you is possible

full moon in taurus

i take solace in knowing that no one reads this,
i find it comforting that no one believes in me
i think its funny that i'm looking for acceptance

everything reduces to one

everything adds up to one
subtract anything and it equals one
multiplied infinitely you will always end up with one

its becoming clear to me that everything reduces to one.

i don't mean to be a reductionist of the philosophic sort, but its hard to make plans with the order of things this way.

11:11

123

punk rock rollerblading through king's college

not feeling

verbose

old wounds

don't sting

they really burn

i mean stings don't leave scars

its less swollen but still itchy
it was my fault anyway
they were delicious

my foot hurts

and i almost got hit by a car
so i started making peanut butter cookies

on existence, and other jargon

redness and Pegasus aren't real ontological problems
i mean your presence in my life is an ontological problem
i mean you're a non-existent unactualized probability
with all your nonchalant possibilities
and your faceless imagination
your wanton dumplings and charming recreation
you're blinking blank eyes

your blinking eyes cause an ontological problem
they pose a dull metaphysical question

its not redness or Pegasus
its not "therefore i exist" - ing
its not non-existing
its an unactualized impossibility,
but thats - possible?
its conceptually underestimating is-redness and pegasizing

your extraordinary altitude is only a mental idea
its just a slippery sloping non-existing abstract idea
an actually actualized mind-melting non-operating idea
a dishwash-retarding jungle of cutlery

a brave exit from a long journey
a tumbling-down-climbing-fall
an endearing gesture on the briskest of days,
self-sacrificing anti-martyrdom

your blinking eyes cause an ontological problem
they pose a dull metaphysical question

its - not -
you?

i mean i miss the idea of loving - you?

i don't really love you as much as i miss being in love with you

cabbits are like carnivorous cabbage
a convincing myth

i bet you never saw the day

that someone would call bullshit on your veil of innocence

and the green-ness of your eyes

its not the reflection of light but a thirst unquenched

unquenchable,

you can't go around fooling everyone all the time like no one might catch on

you can't live on the pedestal without a way to get down

you can covet all you want with gloves on but you'll still leave a stain on mirrored glass

i find myself contemplating suicide

not because i want to

but because i'd like to finally make a choice

you know, flex my muscles a little bit

exercise some free will

la verità

d-a-n-c-i-n-g

big business starts with you, kid

i always wonder

if we dream of each other at the same time

its not you

its everything else

hip thoughts

i think i'm like
trying to live up to burroughs or bukowski or something

but i'm probably better off just beating it

slave morality or slave mentality????

its not that i don't want to see you

i just need to be prepared

a meaningful moment in toronto means running into people you really don't want to see anymore

i like to think of poetry as an inside joke

mentally taking photographs
momentary mental images
photographing fleeting memories

i think is what i was trying to say

stop transposing

i think i am going offline. forever.

my hydro bill

is really killing me

"what defeats people

is a double confession"

a devil confession
your weakness is your failure you know

its your own goddamn failure
try harder change your perspective

words are easier spoken than executed, so they say

your weakness is your failure
you gotta try harder next time

maybe all the silence will confuse me

if i had a million dollars

i wouldn't buy you a fur coat

this old man is going to take me to the end of the road
the point of no return, so to speak
lightning darting all around our faces
big storm brewing ahead.
hail crashing down onto the windshield
the old man don't want to let me go
but all i want is to walk alone into the hail storm
lightning lighting up my face
laughing along
but nothing is really funny at all
just ironic and bittersweet
can't ever get companionship no matter who's around
so if i'm alone anyway
might as well say goodbye to the old man and walk into the hail storm
i mean whats the worse that could happen?
i'm alone with or without you
maybe this loneliness will drift away with the wind
like hay sacks in the prairies
nowhere to go and nowhere to hide

"i have very complex feelings about you"

i'll never forget what the Sikh man told me
i can't forget what the Sikh man told me
his words have been etched into my memory forever
etch'a'sketched
you can shake it all around
you can clear the board but the palette stays the same
i mean those punjabis get really profound sometimes
they're profound sketchers you know
not really artistic like the rajasthanis
more like philosophic Greeks
i'll never see him again
but i'll never forget what the Sikh man told me

i mean i have very complex feelings about myself.

same same but different

tautology

so i transform your face into my own. at least i am here.
at least i think i am here..

so i am the Queen
the fact is
i wouldn't apologize for offending you
or being too draconian
i mean why would i apologize

i am the queen after all

my archetype

isn't my shadow
which is more what i really am
than blind idealism
legend
and heroes

"a great man"

i mean what would you do otherwise
what would you say if you could express it
i mean maybe everything we say is meaningless
and the only real sentiments we have are unexpressable
maybe we can just blink at each other for hours
but not blinking,
smiling too from the inside.

maybe we could be friends
maybe we could hold hands
maybe you and i could talk a bunch of meaningless bullshit
and really get to know one another
and hold hands
and love one another

and come on meaning
come on meaning

you know?

"excuse me miss, are you indian?"

no, i'm not.

"can i ask you what your background is?"

i'm sicilian.

"syrian! how wonderful."

"yes, my ex-girlfriend was iranian and you look just like her."

"she's syrian mate."

"syrian! of course."

no, i'm SICILIAN

S-I-C-I-L-I-A-N

"oh right, sicilian! i've been to sicily. its lovely there."

isn't it? good for you.
"have you grown up all your life here in toronto?"

yes.

"alright then, have a good night!"

----

"huh. sicilian."

reconnecting convoluted childhood memories with the present

the future is not only impossible but illusory, and imaginative.

constantly creating concreteness

?

i want the right things to happen at the right times for the right reasons so i'm always upset nothing turns out that way since mortally imperfect manifestations are neither right nor wrong but rather really innately full of meaninglessness

i just want everything to be right in the universe

ARE WE BREATHING NOW OR LATER?

2012

yet i am so lonely

yet i am so fulfilled

yet i am so beautiful

yet i am so angry

yet i am so fancy

yet i care so little

yet i want everything

yet i have nothing

yet i live in excess

yet i am unhappy

yet i am unhappy

yet i am unhappy

i mean sadness is only a word really

what i really mean

i mean it means everything
i mean it means i'm more existential than you
i mean you mean to say you exist more than me
i mean your meaning is so meaningful to me
this menacing muddy meaning
i mean i want to master your meaningfulness
and melt all over it
and cum all over it

i just want your meaning to mean more than i mean
i mean i mean nothing in particular
precisely and properly commemorating most
i mean i exist

you'll see sometime

muttering meaning

i mean its all melting into the most meaningful sentence you've ever uttered
i'm melting into the most meaningful moment
into the most meaningful puddle of ponderance and purity
i'm just melting gently into juices
i'm just melting juices of puzzling ponderance
melting into it
this tiny light bright ball
its all melting into the most meaning
it means everything existentially
it means i exist externally
its means the big did bang
its means i'm dreaming lucidly
its means me and you
have existentially melted into each other
over moments of melting ice and juices
it means there's meaning
it all mean means something
me and you and everybody else and this tiny light bright ball

but i can stop melting

deep house

"there ain't shit in the past. just convoluted memories."

it's all melting into the most meaningful sentence you've ever uttered

i mean i'm ignoring your calls i just won't pick up
"i always had this fantasy that a hot coat check girl would put her in number in my coat"

i mean i just don't feel like talking

"we are doomed"

a clip

"you were born on the day the sun and the moon make love. like devils and angels fucking. i bet you have wicked thoughts."

a word of advice

"listen to your breath"

junkyard talk and old friends in the movement of time and space

i had to talk to you about something but i couldn't find you anywhere. i looked all around searching for something better than myself and all i kept stumbling upon was the same goddamn thing. the same goddamn, fucking thing. why? walking around this maze you'd think eventually i'd stumble across something. even if it was nothing. nothing would be anything stumbling around this drunken maze. i kept moving because really what else was i supposed to do. nothing. looking for nothing anything important in this timeless spaceless maze.

--------

if i had enough time i'd tell baby stories for days but i've only got one story left at this point and about seven voices in my head. so how can i keep tellin baby stories. she won't stop talking about how much she loves to hear my goddamn stories all the time. christ girl you're telling your own goddamn story talkin so much the way you do. how's a girl supposed to listen when she can't keep her mouth shut. i keep tellin baby to shut it so i can think of the next story i wanna tell her but she can't stop pleading with me to tell another. well come on now baby. just relax calm down. papa's gonna tell you another one.

november 04 2007

black holes only exist in our universe and don't breathe out

i want to tell you everything about how i actually feel.
"is there anything you want to tell me?"
"no"
"are you sure?"
"yes"
i wish i knew how you really felt.

-------

i have this vision of myself in the future and i'm younger and always beautiful. all my dreams come true i'm actually happy. everything always works out in the vision of the future. someone's dying of a terminal illness. he left you.

january 08 2008

beautiful golriz

for an old friend

the snow is melting
rivers into your heart
the sun is melting snow
burning rivers
into your heart

little puddles & rivers
into your heart
like the tears of my suffrage
they burn you

but not intentionally,
of course.

the snow is melting rivers into your heart.

& once its all mushy and
red like a blood clot
the oxygen stops releasing
to your brain

i take your mushy heart
and it melts bloody between my fingers
burns holes in my hands.

you YAWN because you're losing
the oxygen in your brain.

little mushy melting puddles
of blood clots and salty tears.

the snow is melting blood clots
in my brain

but i still have oxygen.

bloody brain clots &tumors
salty dirty snow
rivers of blood and tears
melting solace in your heart

but not intentionally,
of course.

spring is coming
melting all the surfaces away

the birds are chirping
spitting up blood and tumors
because their hearts break for us,

but they can still sing.

they serenade your mushy
puddle of a heart

they sing my song to you.

they melt us together
so we become one
salty puddle

bloodless &full of oxygen

i can breathe again
but your skin is getting whiter

i will breathe the life
back into you

with my bird song
and the blood of my own heart
and the oxygen of my own brain

the sun of my soul.

i will recreate the shape
of your heart
with my own little hands

and it will beat beat beat
healthy again

your face is getting flush
no more mushiness and clots.

your heart thump
thump thumps

for me

because i reconstructed it
with my little hands

i breathe into it and mold it
until its just right again
and i hand it to you.

its so hot.
burning holes in my hands
through my little bloody fingers

you take it from me and
YAWN

you need some more oxygen.

i take your face
in my little bloody hands
and breathe all my oxygen
into your mouth

and it goes down down down.
deep into your blackened lungs.
you go, "ahh"
because you can breathe again

your head balloons up
and sighing,
you inhale deep

all the oxygen of my heart.

you won't yawn again anytime soon

with your re-mended heart
in my little hands
& all my oxygen
breathing down your lungs