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they think about him while they practice
but rarely will he watch with one of his eyeshe has countless eyes
a hundred eyes, more
he is all eyes, but they hurt
and he can never sleepthe ocean is okay
but boats crowd it with their wakes
god can’t help but look at every bubbleit puts a strain on his eyes to watch small things and fast things
cities, streets, fingernails
dots on a diehe prefers to watch other planets
Saturn and those ones
those are graceful
more one colorwatching Rushmore be built
the Great Wall
something lengthy and accumulativehe hates fireworks
but the worst is to see a needle being strung
the little end of the string struggling to fit
his eye feels like it’s been injected with iodinehe cannot rub it
he is invisible
no one can help him---"The BAD LOFT PARTIES"I had sex with this boy I’m friends with. He has such a nice girlfriend. If the
parties hadn’t been so bad, we wouldn’t of, but every party was bad. One party had
baked ziti, but was still bad. The friend, he wears t-shirts that have disgusting things
silk-screened on. Like somebody eating their eyeball with a fork. Somebody who is not
real. Or a cow having sex with a car and both are dripping with slime. A bathtub filled
with blood but the blood has a smile.My friend decided to write a love song to win back his girlfriend. I helped because I
took Poetry once, so I know how to do lyrics. We tried to make a song but it sounded
too somber. I think it’s because both our guitars are black, I said. He looked and it was
true. Shit, these are my only guitars, he said. But it was O.K. A love song is always sad.
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back together different. There was never a guy who floored me. The ones I know,
you’d be retarded to get lost in. They live in basements and pee in bottles. They steal
everyone’s Netflix. A party that’s bad, makes me more sad than mad. That’s one of my
lines from my poems. Then it goes: A boy is a body, a butt is so bare, I ride on my bike,
no hands, eating air.---"Incest is lazy"roommates are monsters
a graveyard’s relaxing
the police are pretentious
artists are wimps
jocks are blocks
babysitters are prostitutes
angels are gay
holidays are non spontaneous
moms are my slaves
dads are hard to read
homework is lame
Sundays I find mournful
gossip is energy
love is overdone
birds don’t participate
brothers are renditions
teenagers are accused
beer is filling the room
globes are spinning off their holders
boogers are extra atoms
science is sexy
history is impossible
Kathy is unholy
Sarah is hella lonely
butts are like babies
writing is like boring
boys eat power
baseball season is over
fall is like grunge music
days are alike
hell is not real
heaven is fake
homes are redundant
friends are brief masterpieces
weed is so crazy
America was immoral
humans are monsters of choicePreviously by Blake Butler - Fatty XXL Meets the Little Mermaid High on X and Texting@blakebutler
