1nn32dem0n5 - Tumblr blog

[1nn32dem0n5]

dance puppets

i’ve taken up voyeurism lately my roomate has an old pair of binoculars. plastic strap goes on my neck. it’s bovinely simple. edge the knob till you can see. a girl with curly hair runs from a fat, relentles bee. i must not know what love is.

[1nn32dem0n5]

to be incapable of appreciating the true beauty of the female form when it presents itself, you either have to be another beautiful girl or a man in love.

[1nn32dem0n5]

My feet ache from so much walking. My footsteps pound the pavement hard as I try to find my way back. Back home. Back to something familiar, something comforting. But I once get there, wherever that is, I recognize nothing. I feel like a stranger in my own home, in my own life. Everything moves around me and yet somehow I feel like im the only one standing still. I am an enzyme. I make things happen; for everyone else. New connections form due to my presence. Impossible connections. And yet at the end of the day I remain unchanged. Unmoved. Unphased. Fundamentally the same entity as I was initially. I see the big picture of everything except my own life. The paint is forever wet, it never dries. On a whim I can change it with ease, if only I’d still care to. What’s the point anymore? Maybe I was never meant to have a purpose. I am just a macroscopic catalyst. A character from a greek tragedy cursed with the ability to see the future of all things, except those which affect his own life. They always end up poking their eyes out; chained to heavy objects. Or maybe vultures offer them this courtesy.

[1nn32dem0n5]

long term memory formation is simply not an option right now. i know this. my brain knows this. my fingers dont know this because they just do what theyre told. but its basically common knowledge. i smell burnt rubber and i dont know where its coming from. it smells good. comestible. i hate using adverbs. "na na na na naaaaa na na na nnaaaaaa hey jude. " this girl texted me tonight. i may see her tomorrow. my life is a roller-coaster of total emotional upheavals. i don’t try things. i dont do things. i am things. im so fucking drunk. dont let me down. dana fuchs… if you dont know who she is i feel sorry for you. her vocal chords make my blood vessels enlarge. think about the absurdity of human interaction. think about the girl. the girl. and adverbs. whatever.

[1nn32dem0n5]

All good writing borders on philosophy but if it pushes the boundaries too much it becomes trash; too little and youve got yourself a best seller. Its a fine line to walk, and so few have.

[1nn32dem0n5]

men, when they reach a certain age, turn to art, when they are done with sex without realizing that sex, done right, is art.

[1nn32dem0n5]

vanity and silverfish

silverfish slither across my poems and drunken ramblings and all i care for is that they don’t get too close to the cocaine because god forbid i have to snort a fucking silverfish! i’ve never written this much while wired before. i feel euphoric to the point that i don't want to write; i want to writhe and dance and jerk off while giving a presentation in front of prospective investors for a company I am CEO of, i want to dive off cliffs and snowboard down mountains with little to no snow. i want to eat pizas by the diameter, to share my bed with scores of women: fertile, menopausal, slutty, religious, alcoholic, stupid, scientologist, unshaven, on the rag, but please hold the fucking models - there’s nothing I hate more than fucking models, the vanity; the vanity! i cant stand that shit, you can be a nine or ten or whatever but vanity is my least favorite thing to fuck, "get over yourselves" i want to say, but why would a sailor stop sailing? be in "the here", and now baby! lets reset the past together, I didn't know ice has negative calories, nor did i care. want to eat this silver- fish? you think they taste good? look how thin they look! eat it, eat it for me, yeah, it's kinda hot!

[1nn32dem0n5]

sometimes I listen to a song and I'm taken back to a small room in a small apartment; I'm entering into that building, climbing those those stairs, and the world is beautiful once again, if only for a moment, even if just because I forget that it isn't.

[1nn32dem0n5]

the sun brings out the poems

[1nn32dem0n5]

the best poem in the world

yesterday i wrote the best poem in the world. words flowed smoothly, elegantly, fell in just the right place, at the right time, with perfect count of syllables and sweet mellifluous diction. the prose was crisp like fresh picked lettuce and heavy cucumber slices with just a bit of salt. reading it began with clear water from the filter poured into a never used glass. It chills it slightly. condensation forms on the glass and you pick it up with your coarse hand from chopping wood and artificially inseminating horses and you spread your thin bird lips and gulp it down, your throat gaping open like the wide-cut canals of new york city. it's so refreshing your whole body shudders in ecstasy your bladder voids your colon erupts tears sublimate spontaneously your heart palpitates so unmercifully it stops. and as time slows down demoralized, anesthetized, you simply die.

[1nn32dem0n5]

hopeless or otherwise

romantics are sad creatures. never be with a romantic you will never be enough and even if you are you won’t; they cling to 'what ifs' they fall in love with moments and ideas and moods and sunsets with paradoxes and all things beautiful and all things fleeting

[1nn32dem0n5]

the bars

lead us not into the bars lead us not into the nice bars the dingy bars the rooftop bars the familiar bars the new york bars the seedy hook-up bars the basic bitch bars the hidden bars with the entrance in the shitter the open mic bars the karaoke bars the gay bars on polished cobblestoned streets the underwhelming beer bars the bars with a cover the patio bars the bars with three dollar shots the bars where they pretend life is good the bars where you're blacklisted because you smashed a glass and fought the bouncer but it's okay because they distill their vodka with cat piss the bars with the tits and good coke bathrooms the red red wine bars where your friend works and the drinks are on the friend the day drinking bars the birthday bars the bars of sweet salvation lead us not into the bars so we can have a good night's sleep a healthy liver a solid morning’s dump and not much else.

[1nn32dem0n5]

sweet bird

my student took it at both ends             we raw-dogged her all night; at light she leaves and says, “oh friends             you have my number, right?”

[1nn32dem0n5]

a small bow legged dog

I saw a bow legged dog Walk like it’s master To blend in

[1nn32dem0n5]

covid positive bitches

a lady called and she told me i have covid it’s the best news i’ve had all month at least it's not lyme tho who knows, it could be both. fuck.

[1nn32dem0n5]

Margs

A girl walks in in jeans and tall leather boots; a goddess, with green eyes and short straight blonde hair. I want to weep for humanity such moments are like witnessing God himself. she floats with grace and smiles too often and tears out my heart a year later, in the gym, of all places. sure, I smile because it happened. i'll smile. i'll smile. i'll smile.

[1nn32dem0n5]

a solid five

her mouth always seemed full even though she wasn’t eating. on the standard frat scale she was a solid 5, at best a side-chick, a lazy Sunday, downtrodden fuck reachable at every three am. what a scene, big milky tits, long awkward legs that have never seen a treadmill, always stoned, always wet, gets off from vaginal alone, and never wants to spend the night because I didn’t never had any weed. we always fucked like rabid dogs and as soon as i saw her walk to the bathroom i wanted her gone. it worked out well that way. she really was a solid five. but tonight she’s in california, and tonight... she’s an eight.