hold my last words against me

a very full life:

i literally haven’t done anything and i’m exhausted

linguistic manhunt

regional dialect

idiolect

vestigial language : refl ex, not considered

new age motiviational

automatically updated iphone dictation note??

a t-shirt: yoga babes hate me

a t-shirt: somebody please HELP

back at the hospital

you got no visitors at all

a book of translations

the fi rst line of every non-art book i own

someone reads “arcades”

country club politics

i’m not distant, i’m just minding my own business

don’t touch my magic with your dirty hands

i’m in the process of getting my life together

where’s cape breton?

who is this “rorschach” and why does he keep

drawing pictures of my parents fi ghting?

the practical merits of breaking my nose

why has it just become acceptable to say

“i don’t want to work in america”

elsewhere, i mean

not celebrating victory,

instead we pardon failure

“it’s not “hope” i’m talking about. it’s a diff erent capacity. a well that

has eff ectively emptied itself. my heart hurts but it’s not that bad.”

i have no specifi c pains in my left thumb

the purpose of love is to compartmentalize time:

- when i was with _____

- when you were with ______

- before i met ______

- after _____ and i broke up

you’re handling this well

yeah, i’ve done this before

but your burden looks an awful lot like her

i’d like to talk about this more.

interrupting a “ruth” or “maria.”

i’ve only meant suicide in the sense of killing some part of myself

never the whole thing

silent and reticent

troubles are boring

people only like you when you’re not really you,

right?

the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth

what’s resting bitch face called if you’re a man?

i guess it’s called being a man

i get the stage fright shakes no matter how often i do this

i do anything

remember the punk-rap band yes i was terrifi ed but

i was 100% out of my mind

i’m glad i hadn’t discovered amphetamine yet or

i’d probably not be around

not making this about me i’m just keyboard responding

i guess i’m sorry

ny, mtl, wherever - you don’t buy a house.

you only fall in love to torch your own garden

- what?

watch me

every time we agreed, yes - a long time

a gradual dazzle

quiet about lire,

eyes, allergies

waiting for you to leave so i can leave shortly after

fendi mini mirror fendi all over print screen

talk dirty to me

the bathroom, the kitchen, the linens

ha ha ha ha ha

as if something missing

legs crossed defi antly

if not the only one noticing

we sat in the dirt for the fi rst time together

short legged dogs engineered to walk like people

hair longer and i smell like you

public washroom

i look up, i’ve been reading

“does it smell like fi re?”

“no, gas.”

“gasoline, for sure.”

not much i can do about that

when i had my wisdom tooth removed i had it done at the mall i

paid in cash and they told me that was unusual. they suggested i

don’t smoke or drink for a few days and prescribed me penicillin

which i never fi lled i had a falafel and smoked two cigarettes before

i was off mall property

the sandbanks tufted titmouse we could see them

gin and tonic instead of mopping up

all this worship of trouble has me bored

cynical signs point to yes

24 hours before payday it was a diff erent time,

then

you just came and went leave town whenever

to get on with it

starting new, simply a backpack it doesn’t

make sense

shoes on a screen

stella mccartney i think

yeah, not bad out loud

the rain slows down

but i’m not leaving my feet smell and i’m sticky

all known categories

personally, doomed

i need to stop sleep, i think

maybe distort a meaning

how to stop looking at phone

afternoon no shower compromise

the syntax gets abused me talk about

fucking you, horny all afternoon

there is always a problem, sticking

hand out window of car staring into sun

until tears spread out

any miles per hour

the appropriate response to

“i love you”

isn’t

“i’m sorry you feel that way.”

p-a-r-a-d-i-s

a cop car trails close a rented malibu

after pissing off the only other person on our street

who’s house is the biggest i’ve seen in weeks

kombucha is added to everyone’s pastis and water

and a new cocktail is born

avoid the police station criteria

god, a habit

derrida stripping

the thinking

can we measure love in the hours of the day?

a spanish handjob:

- pressed against breasts

a meticulous organizing of already existing media

rethinking “cocaine, strangers”

best work when frustrated

my feel smell like peanut butter

the sheets are covered in fi ne white fl ecks

hairspray residue

not keeping my hair puff y like johnny thunders

i fi nd it annoying

i should buy new sheets

i mean, i did recently

but maybe these sheets should be white

this time

it gets hotter at night

i feel cold but your body is hot

let’s put the blanket between us

i’ll cuddle the blanket instead of you

bingo

slightly shivering

probably hungry

stomach ache

i don’t think there’s any fruit in the house

it’s boring to write about your relationship with drinking

just write about what you want to read

i have only liked whiskey once - for like, three months

during a particularly bad period of

“drinking to get to drugs sooner”

i would assume i’ve technically had

somewhere around 1200 hangovers

not including the days in which

i’ve woken up drunk and kept drinking

i would tally those days around 300

working for now defunct publications

the fl or works anaerobically,

converting sugar into ethanol

paid attention, spent attention?

a great bordeaux vineyard

relationships between the self and the self and the self and others

i don’t give a shit and i certainly don’t give a fuck

told you!

who asks for a budweiser on the patio a tourist

it’s not their fault it’s not hard to look at the menu though

they’re just trying to enjoy the nice weather

well, it’s encroaching on my enjoyment

look! now they’re playing uno!

how fun.

the sun will come out tomorrow

your optimistic dna

yesterday’s viagra maybe still in your blood stream

am i understanding this right

scowling, rightly, note writing, hand on my thighs

working class wines

viognier

however you pronounce it

there is a woman on speakerphone

wearing fuzzy slippers yelling about

how she doesn’t understand

why you do these things

as mum would say,

“sure and that’s far from how you were raised.”

i planned on going to a diff erent party anyways

i’m sorry for being like this

the understanding that the day was over

an essay about time killers

it’s sunny

the tourists are out i’m reading tao lin she’s reading valerie solanis

sit in the shade in between my legs

cider glistens and warming slowly ice melted

too many bags that’s how you can tell they aren’t from here

nobody needs that much things

they’re probaby looking at google maps

or yelp

yeah - oh!

did you hear that australian accent?

3) 9 6 11 18 (29)

dog whistle politics

everybody knows

the reorganization of privilege

what what i want to be when i grow up

things that my mother was unable to teach me

a list of spectator interests

the diff erence between smart and smarmy

i spend the bottom 5th to top 8th petting a dalmation mix until my

hands are oily

friend to many dogs, enemy to all people

apo=generic

notes.rtf

backup text onto a fl ash drive

tennis 11am

fi x the calendar

xerox every poem in book over original poem

as the times change

white spray paint

start uh reorganizing

david bowie naked lookalike

steady staring me down

fuck this hangover

i gotta get smart somehow

thunder road by bruce springsteen

the baby (70s)

i’m still hungover

even after masturbating

the sun is too hot on my back. sitting in a south-facing seat, in the

window, in a cafe, drinking an americano with chocolate milk in

it. a book is open but unread, mostly. popular american writer. i

haven’t eaten yet.

love it, excellent, good PR, not off ending anyone

sincere girl reading poetry,

anais nin diary

tried to jack off but i was too tired,

ha ha,

you know

a doctor and his wife

the kind of people that go abroad

it doesn’t interest me

both the people and the act, you know

tourism

perhaps i’m sour today

those stories

romantic voyages

you see

there’s no point

appearance,

not experience

terrible things

hold my last words against me

ducolax

in the province of love

non american outpouring

leaving notes

erotic grammar

minus the mascara

pasolini, again

coff ee on the patio

while her bike gets fi xed

it’s a problem with the front tire

i believe

annexing space

nothing worth reading

among the ruins

hypochondria

dies hard

running nose acknowledgment

behind sunglasses

plastic and cheap and

not of the city

public dress rehearsal

getting home seems like a struggle

zodiac fi xated

arthur leign allen

opportunistic

secret society open air

overdressed

(i guess)

and all the dogs are fi rst walked

des idée reçue

impressionism

in handcuff s

i ask the bartender to plug in my phone,

mostly to keep it out of my hands.

but what if there is a terrorist attack?

what if alexa gets lost or needs directions?

no, i need to focus. read.

i’ve broken the cycle of task-based days and it hasn’t helped me.

ok. i need a return to-do to-do list.

instead:

we laid in the park. it wasn’t warm enough to take off our coats. it’s

april. we drank half our juices and add-ed sparkling water to make

the fl avor last. kale, celery, beet, sparkling water. i realized i had

brought the wrong book - i have already read this leonard cohen

book. it’s a diff erent edition than the one on my shelf, but i have

read it. of course i had. it’s ok. i didn’t feel much like reading. we

laid with our eyes closed. the grass wasn’t damp but it wasn’t dry,

you know? soft grass, rather. our eyes closed towards the sun, laid

on our backs. rubbing each others thighs.

a twenty-fi ve-year-old drives a white econoline van through an

intersection, killing ten and injuring dozens. the van was a rental.

that much we know.

“i want to cum in your mouth later.”

“ok.”

so i go to the juice store,

ok,

and the lady asks me,

you know,

what kind-of juice i need,

right,

and i’m like

“whichever one is gonna make my lover

more satisfi ed sexually.”

she gave me beet juice.

check it out

my bar tab what?

yes! no i don’t want to pick up on dundas

a sign i’ve “recovered” from my “recovery”

used to be always YES from me

i mean, i want to do co-------

but apparently not that badly

it’s a conversation!

about nothing!

(my inner monologue)

yo, how sick would it be

to go to sleep, yeah, nice

(me in real life)

i’m good

CC: understanding

that look, yeah -

you had us and you lost us

smashing pumpkins but not ava adore

don’t kiss me, i’m thirsty

this ain’t no poem, bro

lol