maxandcheeze-blog - Tumblr blog

[maxandcheeze-blog]

the boys in west genderland

the wet genderland boys eat ricearoni right out of the microwave w/ wet duckling waddling a shallow pond of this exotic country there are bloody kitchens for boys to cook and eat banshee meat (so named for screeched consent) the culture gap between american boys and west genderlander boys is fundamentally dietary

[maxandcheeze-blog]

poetry fails

have you ever seen Max’s face? not the mask or the skin beneath or the tissue beneath not the smiling lips or the frowning lips I don’t mean the eyes or ears or nose, I’m not talking about the wet sensing things growing out of  Max’s face

[maxandcheeze-blog]

unfinished sadness

anymore time alive won’t fit in me it’s bursting out beneath my hands part of you wants to reblog and confess “sometimes I feel that way too.” that part won’t win out the cautious part of you thinks “man I relate to him” watches if i live i’ll name the scars tonight leaves down my arms Anonymous after you and kiss my bandaged wrists and say “thanks for nothing.”

[maxandcheeze-blog]

now my eyes are milky

At church. At our wedding. With my forethumb the texture of that coffee stain on the next photo says it must be us getting [what did we get?] at Panera Bread, then at home we said hi to our...

On what date did my eyes go bad? It was before you died after you got old. There’s no date every day a half percent worse until it’s a hundred percent and I thought I’m blind. I still like photos and cry at church and love you.

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Places

but restless people are dangerous, wicked, places to them are interchangeable

look how I can say something true about something real: There’s a Panera Bread on 57th and Jackson Heights Blvd.

they’ll never understand how that’s unique.

[maxandcheeze-blog]

The Laughter of Wrists

I ought to lie about my romantic exploits for attention like when Mary said God got her pregnant. She must have been lying because I was lying, you said

Who would want that kind of attention? Someone who needs attention so bad they carve it into their thigh with a razor then we should give her some fucking attention, but the truth is I just want you to stop looking at me

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Long Distance Erosion

you call yourself a fractured diamond you sift your shattered bones for any reminiscent sparkle don’t you think all those tears eroded something brilliant from your cheeks?

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Recipe for Sleep

Swaddle body lay in cot cool to ~68oF note; sleep is not the same as rest count sheep let imagination wander feel a little black sheep asleep on your chest or is it a little old woman a night hag slurping breath through your ribs, feel her cracked lips respire on your collar sleep, sleep are you awake? try to move (but you can’t) someone’s in here open your eyes this isn’t even your bedroom try to sit up (but you still can’t move) elevate pulse approx. 10 bpm moisten flesh in cold sweat can’t move can’t move can’t move hold breath can you hear her? don’t wake up

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Shouldn’t Say

I am a billion page thesaurus if you somehow skipped three words and every entry I look up is a synonym for confess I am a billion monkeys at typewriters who’ve stumbled across all of Shakespeare except one verse from every play so when Othello whispers to his wife that - but no, the line is gone - the script: words stripped of language what is left is us mutes floating in the vacuum of radio silence blinded when we try to write it down deaf but for the words they said we shouldn’t say I love you I love you I love you

should I tell you?

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Cursive

a glass castle in a hail storm like calligraphy scrawled on a crumpled napkin I read you in cursive but you write yourself in print - uncurved or worse you write yourself nothing just a ghost in a verse

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Darker Places

I come home to Joy unconscious on his cell floor his split lip’s spilling blood on my new copy of Harry Potter & The Cursed Child (technically not his fault but still) I study the colors

black skin, grey concrete blood a color like my mother lulling me to sleep unred.  I am the color of a mirror when nothing is reflected

in prison he and I occupy opposing ends of an earth tone color wheel in prison race is everything but holy wine has washed the earth in a brotherless godless backwards communion darker than the blood wet black of severed flesh I am the white of a page of a book on the floor I am the color of prison

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Why To Write Bad Poetry

I can say anything except I love you I am a billion monkeys at typewriters after chancing across the entire works of Shakespeare who still somehow manage to evade three words I am a cloud of moths in a dresser drunk on the cloth of your skirts people hate our poetry because we are youthful and intense so much so college banned our brand of anarchic sincerity but if you strip poetry to its wild essence what is left is us suspended in the vacuum of each other’s presence dressed only in each other’s eyes deaf but for the words they said we shouldn’t say I love you I love you I love you

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Awful Things

Something we don’t admit that when we get hit we run to the mirror with wide joyful eyes we survey say, “sorry you hit me” spit me on the sidewalk and left we’re all about the bang bang diaries Trigger Warning: that wasn’t sex it was theft you stole more than every awful thing under the sun, severe weather but now we’re hurricanes or human names grab the super soakers and let the games begin and I’d love to not know my name and fly away

I know a dove who got that tattooed on her wing us, we’re more like mayflies scrying for water in dry clay insect hearts don’t love just want insect parts hunting for themselves in the haystacks the stuff that you’re made of is made out of me you won’t leave we read each other poetry, cook dinner,  pretend not to see our eyes going dimmer after every stormy night after every fight the stones of our boundaries become withered it’s not even raining, we’re starting to cry it just happens

[maxandcheeze-blog]

“but i like myself demonic”

I know more for being old than for being the devil well I’m priest of a youth religion and ever since Sumer it’s been blowing up a busy epoch for god and devil alike I am no serpent, he just does my dirty work your mother hides money beneath her mattress christ she needs a cigarette oh, I remember when she quit for you she never knew, but her parents she a gun in the top dresser drawer that Margaret would look towards when she couldn’t sleep

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Wings Over Albany

And today I traded my Buffalo Wings for angel wings only to find the dead we say not speak ill of often speak ill of us Eden is not a place we were cast out of but something we cast out of ourselves God didn’t cast man from the garden man cast God from the earth and Eden is what he took with him when I saw all this, I tried to fly to Wings over Albany but clipping my wings and eating chicken wouldn’t make me human again what could? And today I read the gospel it said “The Kingdom of God is within you” at Wings over Albs the cashier told me to go to Hell I don’t think I can though I think it’s within me, too the lines that I drew on the previous page mirror the border lines separating my warring selves the angels the men the gods all at war - who will win, will it be me? will anything win anything? what could?

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Prison Recipes - Pizza Griega

Ingredients: Matzoh Crushed basil leaves Butter Mozzarella

1. Spread butter over matzoh 2. Shred cheese, sprinkle atop 3. Sprinkle leaves 4. Bake

[maxandcheeze-blog]

Pics of me, being pensive.