now:
twice weekly visits to reference library
photograph everything again
more photos printed, colored in
bubblegum, pastel
patterns
is anything funny?
paint over portraits
desires: purpose, stability
looking forward to loving you 2018->
and then came nothing
asking the chicken about the chicken soup
more beautiful in the future
being lonely in the city is better than being lonely in the country,
for me
the breakthrough brokethrough,
though
broker and buffffffer interactions
polyamourous in creative endeavors,
monogamous in love.
I want to get pregnant in the summer.
my girlfriend, wife, no partner, wife – says,
sitting on the couch, after heavy mouth petting.
this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life
I must be dying
this is not a thing I would have considered a while ago
having kids? no.
dying, yes.
I have a stomach ache often, I probably have cancer.
shit, I should quit smoking.
or at least drinking.
shit, I’m dying.
shit.
“I like the idea of putting someone in a new place and watching them
have things revealed to them by the situation they fififi nd
themselves in. Or have them changed by it.”
Having an overall enjoyment to working is key to producing good
work.
Keep the house clean, keep life right.
Notes on the text:
ThThTh is book of poems was written while reading and writing other
things.
All attempts at further editing have effffff ectively been disbanded, and
this volume is defififi nitely ‘done’ as of Wednesday, December 20th,
2017.
But what book did this preface belong to?
I have no idea. What the fuck was I thinking?
i’ll never drive a car
or own a house
that’s dimitri karakostas, for ya.
a large amount of small things
memories?
no, just things.
cassettes, vhs tapes,
ramazotti bottles
things.
make whatever house you want, it’s your house anyways
i agree, kill the clutter
creeps keep receipts
baby baby baby baby right on time
2018
every artist I like let their ‘fififi rstname-lastname’ . com expire
and I like that a whole lot.
is my nose bleeding?
no, but I’m crying
ok
feels the same, though
mostly a spite writer
a spiter
anyone?
we’re sorry,
you’ve reached your monthly limit
of feeling sorry for yourself.
I admit,
I maybe looked around for you
on my way back from the bookstore
I assumed you would be on the other side of the street
staying in the sun
if:
everyone deserves love
and:
everyone gets what they deserve
then:
?
I can disappear all over your life,
yeah,
“I want to know what love is.”
material distress:
I am sad, I should buy a pair of sneakers
my heart gathers disasters
flflfl imsy sheer black lycra
height
weight
temperament
abandonment issues
“he got it from his mama”
yeah, I had a good march down bloor street
in slight flflfl urries that melt as they touch the skin
sobbing quietly into a tommy hilfififi ger hoody
now I feel like a person again
I thought about getting my negative tattoos covered,
ha
someone called me
“the writer of a thousand suicide notes”
at least that’s what I heard
drinking kombucha until I throw up,
new healthy lifestyle
this new sinus pain
suffffff ocate me, daydream
lost,
the day gone soft
remember?
a novel idea:
I die at the end
I anticipate keeping you clean
3am hallucinating nosebleed
the walk probably did me good
but today I hate every bookstore
in this city
(seeking beigbeder)
I fififi nd myself
neither lucky or cursed
the four coffffff ee shakes
you do it because other writers do it
and you –
an other writer
will talk about it
hasty, but still
it feels important to mention your place
shoulder to shoulder
with other writers
thank you for doing the laundry
I’m ashamed of my pile
I’m used to living alone in some ways
neglectful habits
drinking an ipa
reading an ebook
on an ipad
I fififi nd myself waiting for you often
I fififi led away opiods in my late twenties top drawer
leaving a bit even though I don’t want it
moving beside the soup spoons and my one expensive knife
velvet draping life improving
while she’s moving
frisky thunder lightning lovely
come on, catastrophe!
tired not sleeping honey baby
rough and tumble turned out
no doubt right off
announced injustice
stretched out
confififi dent knowing,
that’s all!
good bye, karakostas!
you’ll never see me again!
“stud”
(for zak)
pornhub search results
my wife
make it ambiguous
“i’m with you in rockland”
me, in the don valley jail
the truth, without matter
dead birds in jars
dozens of them
waiting for an hour
for someone
to show up
a cuck problem,
a liberal cuck problem
isn’t that right,
snowflake?
probably easier to just
fuck off
9/11 breakup line:
are you building seven baby,
because I forgot all about you
the building seven
the official 9/11 cocktail:
it goes down easy
people find happiness
in strange places
me?
I just discovered I don’t know how
to eat an orange
for a smart guy
you certainly have
a limited vocabulary
all
“honey sweetie baby I love you I’m sorry”
first kissed
pressed lips
held the void
of each other,
empty usual
blank page with no pen
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