excerpt from working title"SOAP"

I was sweating typing out a creative piece for a book within books, an association of writers for writers. The publication would be grand for me. With some advances and a publication to my third largest work of art. This one was about a ghost, a ghost named Shelby. Shelby Specter. And I drew another line on the coffee table. The story almost completed. The idea started from a one page short story I created for another writers for writers magazine. But as I missed my girlfriend more and more the story became bigger into a short story and about 50 pages of being a novel. I had this feeling that Shelbs would never come home and I looked in the book shelf and saw a Poe book I hadn't read in a while. My face was numb and I had the sniffles. Only 10 more pages til I reach the maximum required words. And now I'm stuck reading. There's bourbon beside the garbage, I just remembered and I walked over and bent down to see if I was not completely too fucked up. There it was and I got a rock glass, added some ice and poured that sweet liquid into it. I headed back to the typewriter and pecked words as I drank, sipping the liquor like joy. As my last word was typed, my face slammed into the typewriter, mixing fresh ink with blood and jolting the machine. I was just so drunk.

can i speak?

how can i speak today in this mess.

angry, alone, whimpering, lost. 

i need an eyepatch like Joyce.

i need a Nixon like Thompson.

i need a bottle of whiskey like Hemingway.

i need an aphrodisiac like Sellers.

i need, i need, i need.

that's all we say now.

needs and wants

decisions and espionage

too afraid to answer the door

the phone

the text

the zone

where did all this time go?

where was i when it happened?

how can I leave now?

i brush my feet in the dew in the morning

then i place my hands on the grass

the sun isn't up yet and i'm half naked

in my shorts

in my passion

all of me

for time is meant to learn

in a sick patience sort of way

think about it for now

speak in monotone

laugh in chapters

fear in darkness

no milk to drink

the morning is the hardest part of the day

drink some coffee

have a shower

maybe a bit of malt

eggs

spinach

onions

heat on high

until it sears the spinach

now read as fast as you can

answer the noise

i play with a flower
the robust tune
she loves me, she loves me not
archetypes and successful thoughts
reach above atop the stars
the resume
the wine
the letter
my mime
i wait until i see her face
glowing in candles and our hands in place
passion, desire, lust, and the rest
disabling me when I'm at my best
she looks into my eyes
i see her quiver
what she was before
i slowly wonder
i know me and the words i sprout
give me enough time to let the world go round
stubborn in gibberish, answer the noise
lay in a creek bed in the swollen fog
the book
oh no
not this again
you've written it before, in your mind and in your soul
our faces meet and i find words
to contemplate my feelings
she loves me, she loves me not
this flower has infinite pedals

coffee again

I drank two pots of coffee today
the only thing that will help me write
it doesn't matter to you, but i care
this is substantial at this point
so don't josh and join the madness
i won't sleep tonight
or tomorrow or anytime
unless i can
then i'll change my mind
but my mind is smoldering with ideas
my mind works faster than my body
that sweet, sweet bean
i close my eyes and wonder
lost in dreams and bourbon
it's the writing way
gather information and act utmost
my teeth begin to itch
my fingers as well
i am no longer man
but machine.

don't shed a tear for me.

entry level

I can't sleep again

cushioned in my bed

dramatically changing my own surprise

lifting a stone as the earth moves

what should i call it?

a child in the window

a baby in the womb

a father, drunken stupor

a mother, face sunken into her palms

a brother of no bother

a family torn into the veins

leaving less blood than a tampon

more blood from the wound

what makes things as so?

how can it just make sense to me?

let me understand your side

the side you look best on

the terror away from your eyes

the light stays and the shadows appear

the life harbinger peeks at you through one eye

dogs bark, kitty's kit and a first aid bandage

save the plant life, all natural sources of fuel

follow me down the slip and slide

to a voice incredibly reduced

at market value. on the eve of Christmas. there she is.

soap

a new baby born
at the tips of my fingers
the mighty one of mine
who will be the dream to be

i write so callously
my fingers bleed
every time I see her
I wanna jump the leaves

so, where she at now?
i dunno, speaking breadcrumbs and cookies
one dynamite show
back to the baby

her name is soap
the beginning makes sense
how i write like a dope
it makes me get all tense

a plan by the labs
a plan that fails
a plan looking backwards
a plan lost in time itself

so what do we do next
my baby and me
get some ice cream
fly full speed

just telling you about the birth
the soap i have
it'll make Griffith
shine a light on me

Gg

tommy mister marvel

they don't make teevee shows like they do nowadays
i mean it, i swear, i honour
with the toy guns and the battleaxe
kids running around playing cowboys and Indians
little Wally and the Beeve
commercials in black and white
drive-thru burger joints where the waitresses serve you roller blades
that girl in the car beside you with her friends
there's 3 of them and 2 out us
better put in our best wingman
which would be me, of course
wingman stu they called me, but i just can't finish
i can start a conversation and get the nuts and bolts flowing
after that, it's tommy, tommy mister marvel
he smiles at the girls and they wave him over
"this here is tommy. eh tom, they're cute ain't they, like i told ya"
tommy nods
where could we go nowadays to eat this burger, i don't want to mess up my car
me, stu, suggests the harold peak
where you can see the stars and crescent moon and go from there
and maybe eat a burger in peace

so we drive to harolds peak
lots of cars here, such a nice night
tommy wants to go for a hike and one of the girls joins him
he's balancing the cliff, good ol tommy
he's walking in straight lines and the girls cheer him on
he takes a bite of his burger, smiling as he chews
then a gust of wind and tommy falls off the peak
still chewing his food and we hear the thud
we call the coppers, they find his body
impaled on a tree branch
fuckin tommy mister marvel
haunting the peak since 1955