friday night alone in the library reading nietzsche sad things are beautiful only from a distance therefore

you just want to get away from them from a distance of one hundred and thirty years you can call the second half of someones life mental breakdown and death i'm going to distance myself until the world is beautiful sylvia plath is going distance herself from wry detachment until she is accepted by the establishment but if you forget how to be happy, uh, therefore you cannot be happy anymore and a pecan is a kind of nut that can make me cry if im already sad about something else but if i am really in love with things from a distance only im going to get away from the first half of my life if you are trying to get meaning from this poem i am tired of living; if i really want to go back to school therefore sylvia plath forgot how to create enormous distances but im going to distance myself from this poem and create an enormous sentence that will kill you itll be the syntax that kills you, later, when your brain reverses itself to justify the subjunctive, or something, i dont know, ill just punch your nose bone into your brain and that will be what kills you in court ill argue it was the syntax my lawyer will kill the judge and that will distract the judge my lawyer is not really accepted by the establishment the anti-establishment can make me cry if i am already tired of life my lawyer is not allowed to feel sad until he stops eating animals i'm going to get away until someone thinks i'm beautiful i am finally in love with this poem im going to memorize it, i guess

im going to touch you very hard

i'm tired of not being an out-of-control asshole i could destroy a $200,000 house with an aluminum chair and it would be the greatest week of my life the only reason i exist is because it feels like someone is licking my heart after an insane killing-rampage people are less lonely loneliness can fly a helicopter through a cut-out shape of a helicopter the same size as the helicopter and thats its only skill and it isnt good enough but its still amazing whoever owns an amazing $200,000 house is an out-of-control asshole the only reason i exist is because my heart wanted to stab things but didn't have arms in an insane killing-rampage i believe the lonely would survive by digging holes lonely people are clever i am afraid of helicopters that they were invented by some out-of-control lonely person the only reason i am not an out-of-control asshole is because it feels like an amazing person is licking my heart i'm going to prove the existence of amazingly lonely hamsters that throughout history have gone on insane killing-rampages and killed entire neighborhoods and cities before the government came in to seal things off like in that movie i am going to pay someone a lot of money to turn around and go home

i'm tired

i'm tired i'm going to eat a lettuce it's stupid to make sense i don't want to make sense anymore just let me type something stupid and let it be good i'm tired i'm stupid i don't care sentences are too long go away i'm depressed come back i'm having a contest for feeling tired why am i having a contest i want to win or i'll kill everyone murder isn't bad i feel stupid i want to emanate murder people will die and i'll feel good

i'm not trying to be cute it's too hard to smile i'm tired i want some lettuce go away i'm depressed we should do something pleasure is stupid let me kill you whatever i'm about to think will be stupid and make me tired a cow without wings flying in the sky is stupid and makes me unhappy happiness is stupid there isn't enough shit on my face come back and shit on my face again i'm tired of figurative language i don't understand figures of speech a piece of shit lettuce i just typed something stupid i want me to go away

i can't stop being stupid grammar is stupid i'm going to kill grammar and symbolism thinking is stupid i'll kill thinking if i had a gun i could do things laws are stupid i hate you what's in front of my face come back i'm depressed murder isn't bad i'm tired words stupid words are stupid im depressed fuck shit fuck shit shit

shit lettuce shit fucked i am fucked don't tell me i'm not fucked look at this poem i am embarrassed at how fucked i am i'll kill you shitface cowface motherfucker i'll kill you murder screaming head screaming cowhead unattached to body screaming killing shithead i'm tired piece of shit masterpiece

shit pulitzer prize fuckhead

i have high self-esteem and its making me stare

from 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. i ate things and listened to music someone else was feeling careful and it was making me careful remember when i burned down someones house?i was eight someone was dreaming of careful sizes and it was making me eight from 9 p.m. to 2 a.m. i stared at my poetryit was making me burn the hamster was making me laughi was eight someone else was eight and it was making me stare suddenly the peanut butter was making me sadi was hungry? from 9 p.m. to 2 a.m. i listened carefully to someone elses house i woke up staring carefully i moved to 9 p.m. someones dream was in my poetry and it was making me careful already i was eating things peanut things?

ill write another poem instead of looking for a job im going to look at madison, wisconsin through a telescope then move there five-million-dollar poems are going to come from my head if i move from new york to wisconsin each word i type further alienates me from other human beings i am willing to interpret an alien crash-landing a UFO in wisconsin as a desperate cry for help i just feel alienated from the noises that are coming out of your head im going to look at other human beings through a telescope then make a desperate noise five million dollars wouldnt really further alienate me from my poetry im going to stare at my poetry then move my desperate noise there good idea, i just typed i feel that i just further alienated myself from my own desperate poem human beings who interpret my poetry as a cry for help further alienate me generally i feel alienated from the noises that just came out of my cell phone im going to look at you through a telescope then move there for help from outer space madison, wisconsin looks and feels like a desperately good idea i feel that helping an alien crash-land a five-million-dollar UFO is a really desperate thing to do

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$ i feel that my poetry is fucking stupid

terrible asshole

my mom taught me something is that the end of this poem? it is not my mom taught me a lot of things i played the piano and tried to move my body while doing it to show that i had emotions i also showed my mom my middle finger while going to the computer room dont do that, she said later in life i walked into a terrible playground other people were horrified, from a distance i walked through the fire and came out the other side it hurt i thought i should scream but i was polite and kept walking, into another fire all my life i was mostly very polite, and nice, pretty much, why change now? i moved into a blue field, an amazing blue fieldmagical, calm, anesthetic; beautifulthen into a third fire

hamsters, i noticed, were enjoying the mayhem id never seen them like that i was amused my eyeballs were melting down my face, though, and that made me feel strange

i am fucked if i really think all human beings are terrible assholes

i want to see a bear running from a hamster the bear is screaming and goes head-first into a chute im tired of poetry i'm going to use picasso's head to cartwheel across two taxicabs if you want you can move the letters in the word profound you can have roof dpfu no one ever has wanted that until now just kidding! im just being dramatic! the bear is holding a tennis racket in each paw! i jumped off a roof once! i worked on this poem for six hours im tired of poetry, i said and turned off the light and turned on the light

and repeated that, bored, for like ten seconds, while everyone else at my job was actually doing work for once go home, i said hes tired of poetry, someone said noncommittally in the bar i did a cartwheel over the table i was standing on the ground and i did a cartwheel onto the table and over the table fucking awesome, someone said we all know that art is not truth, said picasso ska picasso < ska

a young hamster

a hamster opening its mouth slowly closing its mouth very slowly 4 a.m. 3 a.m. standing at the refrigerator the peanut butter is floating a little a hamster running behind the orange juice continuously a close-up of a hamster's face 2 p.m. an enormous bear sprinting across a parking lot leaping over a car

a hamster sprinting across a parking lot up a light pole into the sky five hamsters looking at you from above a red hamster a boss walking up to you firing you walking away it is not your boss close-up of a parking lots face the parking lot is insane 5 a.m. the peanut butter is floating a little the hamster is floating a little

a poem written by a bear

let me go eat some salmon why are there coke cans in the river what if i wore a bullet proof vest during hunting season im a bear; i walk in the forest and look at the river and the river is cold i saw campers today and they ran away and i was alone and i destroyed their tent let me go scratch my paw on a tree let me go eat a salmon

last night i cried onto my salmon the salmon was sad but it still wanted to live it wanted to swim and be sad and i ate it under moonlight i saw a moose scream the other day it screamed quietly under a tree i felt embarrassed and sad and i thought, oh, no; oh god, oh my god sometimes i climb a tree and sit there and sing very quietly sometimes i want to go to a shopping mall and chase the humans and claw them ill ride the moose into the shopping mall and ram the humans the moose and i will ride the escalator and i will hug the moose and the moose and i will cry i will eat the moose i dont care i will scream and throw the bubblegum machine from the second floor to the first floor i felt compassion for the salmon and now i dont care anymore ill walk into a parking lot and chase a large human and hug the human and cry ill walk into a house at night and push the humans off the bed ill stare at the bed and ill feel fake

That night with the green sky

It was snowing and you were kind of beautiful We were in the city and every time I looked up Someone was leaning out a window, staring at me I could tell you liked me a lot or maybe even loved me But you kept walking at this strange speed You kept going in angles and it was confusing me I think maybe you were thinking that you'd make me disappear By walking at strange speeds and in a strange, curvy way But how would that cause me to vanish from the planet Earth? And that hurts Why did you want me gone? That hurts Why? Why? I don't know Some things can't be explained, I guess The sky, for example, was green that night

Poems that look weird One time I wrote a poem that looked really weird It looked like a scrabble board would If I were playing against you and losing by three hundred or something Because I'd just mix up all the tiles then, and You'd be angry but you'd laugh and that would be fun This other time you had The Paris Review anthology And you were looking for a poem about boats to show me And I pointed at a poem that looked weird And I said, I hate it when they do that And you said, I don't, I think it's pretty

Another time I was thinking about you And I was thinking that you think that weird poems are pretty And I think that you are pretty I was thinking that there was something there, in that thought Some sort of connection that was completely free of bullshit, finally

A poem I can read, stand back from, understand, and nod at I've started lying to editors of literary magazines I tell them I'm in Taiwan or Nicaragua or something So can I email my submission? All lies I don't feel sneaky and good about this I don't pat myself on the back And I don't brag to friends I don't even smile But I do save paper, ink, money, and time

i will learn how to love a person and then i will teach you and then we will know seen from a great enough distance i cannot be seen i feel this as an extremely distinct sensation of feeling like shit; the effect of small children is that they use declarative sentences and then look at your face with an expression that says, you will never do enough for the people you love; i can feel the universe expanding and it feels like no one is trying hard enough the effect of this is an extremely shitty sensation of being the only person alive; i have been alone for a very long time it will take an extreme person to make me feel less alone the effect of being alone for a very long time

is that i have been thinking very hard and learning about mortality, loneliness, people, society, and love; i am afraid that i am not learning fast enough; i can feel the universe expanding and it feels like no one has ever tried hard enough; when i cried in your room it was the effect of an extremely distinct sensation that i am the only person alive, i have not learned enough, and i can feel the universe expanding and making things be further apart and it feels like a declarative sentence whose message is that we must try harder

today is tuesday; email me on saturday the secret of life is decisiveness and to describe something i see the distance and move immediately into it now i am really alone from here i know these things: that a hamster is a lonely fist that my poems exist to dispel irrational angers, that i want to hold your face with my face like a hand the secret of life is that i miss you, and this describes life tonight my heart feels shiny and calm as a soft wet star i describe it from a distance, then move quickly away

eleven-page poem, page one i looked away from the computer with a slight feeling of out-of-control anger; i saw you wearing a coffee-colored starsuit there was a barely perceptible feeling on my face that i was being crushed by the shit of the world then i saw beyond the window to the tree, the house, and the street the house and the street made mysterious binary noises that negatively affected the trees immense happiness i observed this neutrally, without falling out of my chair

eleven-page poem, page two energy drinks help me achieve worldviews that allow me to forgive you masturbation is underrepresented in my poetry, its a scientific fact that our thoughts cause our feelings and behaviors and there is a tingly sensation on the surface of my face that feels like the binary nature of the universe i feel severely confused and unable to function, ill be right back something behind my forehead is trying to crush my good feelings toward you

eleven-page poem, page three my favorite emotions include brief calmness in good weather and i am the only person alive without constant reassurance i feel terribly lonely and insane i have moved beyond meaninglessness, far beyond meaninglessness to something positive, life-affirming, and potentially best-selling i have channeled most of my anger into creating and sustaining an angry face

i have picked up a medium-size glass of coffee and used it in the conventional way because i am conventional in all situations, ill be right back

eleven-page poem, page four the correct arrangement of words will make these bad feelings go away tonight the incorrect arrangement of words will also make these bad feelings go away tonight, because of the placebo effect, which always works do we really live in an insane world of terrible loneliness? i feel intense, uncontrollable eyebrows on my face and something behind my forehead is making squishy noises i should not allow an energy drink to affect my worldview i enjoy a quiet night masturbating in front of the computer with or without high speed internet ill be right back

eleven-page poem, page five my favorite situations include people doing what they say people thinking factually, and people crying alone in bed i dont know how to fix this mini-disc player without a meaningful philosophy of life i feel severely unable to move as fast as they do in martial arts movies strong feelings of achievement later become barely perceptible feelings of immense helplessness; i moved my body outside your house past seven other houses to meet you at the bus stop