a little story

here’s a little story:
I achieved start up glory
when I was twenty four
in the year twenty fourteen

always on chat, emails and calls
no white lines of code on my black wall
hanging by my neck from the wing of a plane
put an HBO show to shame

with my live game.

Could we be doing this again?

A vast and dangerous night of dreams. Flight, fancy, DMT, and mushroom symbolism. 

At home, but things take a turn. I find myself in a peaceful state. The house becomes an aquarium, im swimming around in. The colors are myriad and unearthly, rainbow reefs sprouting from every table and forgotten corner, the door hand blossoming into a beautiful vaginal jellyfish flower. I'm so enthralled, marveling and inspired by the amazing details and wondering how I got here. Dream drugs or magic?

I wanted to share it with everyone, and told the story of the aquarium dream again and again throughout the night. I was so lucidly dazzled and awed by that powerful cavern of hyper-realistic fantasy. 

Before the magical counsel I wanted to show off that I could fly. Was it the devils trick to fly? I'm soaring around and our leader seems pleased. It is a highly enjoyable type of flight, on wings and currents above a crowd.

In the wilderness I practice flying with my friends. My tool is a tiny paper circle, like what you'd get if you glued a chopstick wrapper into a ring. I find it's enough to catch the wind that buoys me into flight high above canopies of pine and alpine creeks. While I'm lifted, the ring snaps and I fall, softly catching the limbs of a tree on my way down. Turns out I don't really need a prop to fly.

It's like the aquarium thing but later, but I take what is supposed to be DMT. I'm dreaming and I know it but the effects of this ethereal dosage are palpable. So you dream on DMT. The man who I am talking to begins to splinter out into a muddled paisley of black, turquoise and deep red. The scene dissolves into dark but vibrant hues.

I keep telling everyone in the tavern/cavern about my dream exploits. There is some fighting and it's scary down there. There are some bugs in this crawlspace and I'm just trying to get away from them. A bunch of old professors want to play quarters with me, Lucy came in with one of them. They can't finish their pizza. Everyone drinks beer. Zane gives me another chunk when I tell him I dreamed that he gave me the piece I ate in the last paragraph. Eminem is dissing me. He tells me I'm on 6 people's nuts. I tell him he's on 10 million peoples nuts. 

There's nothing like it. A glowing presence. A bright light. Voices to be heard. Floating in bliss we wonder

i cant pay

so this french cop is making me eat 10 pounds of rice out of a giant tupperware. I'm supposed to puke but I just keep eating the stuff. The fine is fifty dollars but this sadistic fuck has a menu of punishments that earn you $25, $15 dollars for doing ridiculous humiliating shit. Can't I just pay the damn fine? But fuck it man I keep eating it. I finish the rice just to show the bastard who is boss. I had to eat the first handful off the ground, the rest was in the tupperware. 

I forgot to mention that my crime was remote control driving a car our of my view where it promptly crashed. Oops.

Kenny and matt were throwing a party but I kept having to go back to sleep. I feel like I balanced my time in and out of the party, they ended up opening up the bar a block down so we could host like 50 people who trudged through the snow to see this shit. I'm in and out of my room to check out the party. Combsy and Max are there but they aren't too excited to see me. 

These chicks are watching a show with a lot of tits. Actually its a board game, one of those board games that incorporates a DVD that you play segments from at different points in the game, like a choose your own adventure of a cheesy reality TV show but with topless trashy girls. 

Actually how did I end up in this bed. 

Lucid Afternoon 7/23

I'm in a bright room with something of a reception. There is a tall young woman with pale skin, dirty blonde hair that is slightly curly and tied back into a ponytail, and very crisp blue eyes. I ask her if she can contact the real world for me to let themthat I am lucid dreaming, to see if I can get them to try and transmit a signal to me from RL. The girl blinks... An eerie purple glow shines through her eyelids. She is crystal clear. She tells me she cannot send such a message, with a smile, as though that should be obvious. I ask her if there is anybody who can send a message like that and she replies "Yes, the senders" 

Transcontinental Bird Suite (Nov 5 2012)

join us for a tour of

our new transcontinental bird suite
giving you and the love of life in your room
a beautiful dusting opinion of the northern skyline

puppies must be out this week
rusting along towards a larchmont everglade
noting the appendage
she drinks up
now i'm here again, the side room, where I do my work
the carpets a gruddy red
theres a real business going on inside
I power it, i'm not it it's energy
energy connected is the finest form of sin
sin sine sin sine up down intertwine
DNA double days in meiosis mitosis mitochondria
so you say i forgot my biology
im keeping an eye on the time
this is our world
this is my new ringtone
nobody is picking up
im still on the couch, sideways
trying to wake up
im on the floor
by the wall
on my side with my arm between my legs
I laugh for a kick
it's nirvana for nine seconds
old fire is still on light
cutching up to the brusco boys
i dont think i expressed myself clearly enough when I said
get me the fuck out of here
out of here
i'm on my side
my arm is squeezed between my legs
im looking up at the clock that isn't there
time keeping time keeping tabs
i'm wearing a moustache, look at me now
there's endless amounts of bullshit
i'm sleepy, i'm not getting work done
i'm doing a different kind of work
god's work
playing football in a spiral staircase

there isn't any senior champion
with that clear grain image

driving to atlanta to hate us
driving to atlanta for a fucked foggy monday

Carved Iguanas (Written Dec 2 2012)

Carved iguanas,

curved skulls
moon drops,
they picked them out of the nylon. fuzzy rabbits.
slime crust gathered around edges
links were made.
it didn't really matter.
like ralph nader winning the election
we cast our ballots for shame
tuckered and indecisive
spitting on the ballot slot.

At nine pm there was another bell,
louder this time, it sounded in the small of her conundrum.
we lost ourselves in a timeless battle
snares rattling out ricochets in the swathes of gun fight
knocked out, my comrade had blood running from his jaw
his eyes were half shut, he sputtered out this:

"Not to be named, not to be forgotten,
not heavens door, not hell,
not caribean, not london,
no, no, no, not that path,
this one"

Caring about it was the last thing we could do,
I got lost in so many saturdays,
so many sundays under the rug,
stoned on the couch, we giggled
but there's nothing to laugh about
crime rate
customs officials with heavy machine guns
mowing the lawn

Marble stair cases
A crap load of stars
Bottles of water, in glass
Women in peacock
Velvet chairs
A wide array of hors d' oeuvres
And tonights entertainment is:

Countache, scrumple, migraine
Plums hanging from a vine
Marked for destruction
Clang Clang Clang
The bell sounds again, louder, softer, clumsier
no limit to what we can do.

My satiable dogma lost its zoning permit
cluttered with nonsense to a boiling point
mischief rascal intentions
covered in it, I mean
absolutely, fucking, covered in it
dude, there's no getting out of this one
you're in it for the long haul
you've never been in it for the short one
cling to your guns,
nix incompetence, take what you're given
and shine right through them.

There ain't no stopping
and there ain't no turning back in this world
panoramic still shots cant capture
the world wide fucking magnitude
of slam dunk paparazzi shell fish
tell you how many drams I downed
playing a part,
playing a fucking part
dragging myself across the floor
licking the garbage
wearing the trash bag as my tuxedo
and one of those things from under the cap of a bottle as the ring,
we made it official
puking terribly onto all sweaters, young and old
cursing at little kids
not a pretty picture.

And then it dawned on me.
There's not a cent in Salem
or a Coin in Compton 
that can end this witch hunt wisely
going at eighty with no brakes
no shortage of gas
and a foot made of iron
I double and triple my speed
and settle down for it.
I'm losing my feathers for a shindig
this isn't nice.

But neither is she.
Together we were something,
I knocked on a door I couldn't open
and didn't want to open
and no kids came running out to greet me
and I'm ok with that
But to stand at the threshold
furiously rapping at the uncertain
rain or shine, trying to deliver a package
you start to realize
nothing is getting signed for
and you've only yourself to blame

They like to tell us that there will come a time
when we get older
when things will snap and gel
I like that Idea,
don't you?
So it's in my head that if I keep banging
and shelling the shit out of deserts
one day I get a house and car and wife and life
that's good enough
but not too good,
but not to be fucked with
and when the goonies come to rape the wife
and kill the kids
and burn the house down
I'll be the one motherfucker who thought to buy a revolver
and I'll come out blasting
and you'll know once and for all
that fucking with me
is a really really really bad idea

standing there in bloody triumph,
with the matted scalp of a demon
clutched in terrifying hand
I'll open fire on the news cameras
the spectators
the ones I loved the most
and I'll raise my smoldering cannon
point the barrel at my sweaty 
and unleash the hellish ghost
that would swang in the pulse
of every half drunk puzzled kid
flicking a cherried cigarette onto wet pavement.

I was perplexed

i was perplexed,
it really left me twisted of head
the passion that i once relied on
seemed to have fled
i have bled, the ink out of 
the lines between the valleys
so the tees flow into seas
and blue is dripping from the leaves
I mean the pages
of the purple plant of life
before giraffes
are required to admire
what I've acquired (#2chainz)


Recorded three rap songs which I hope will be incorporated into the next DCheeks.ZDSCH.3ZSE compilation.

Here goes your chorus for nookimunitris

tick tock

there's something wrong with my head doc

i need a new pill for my brain doc

i seem to have a problem and it's strange doc

my mind is set on nookie money trees

nookie money trees

nookie money trees

welcome to the garden

nookie money trees

dees begin to harden

nookie money trees

only thing that smell right

nookie money drugs that fill my tummy till I'm silly shining like a smokey philly

tip for your cheese:

nookie money trees.

Teespring Rap Version 1

there was a website called the spring of tees

where they crowdfund dope shirts on the daily

no money down plus money in the bank

if you can sell ten man, you know who to thank

easy to use easier to love

innovative? useful? dope? all of the above

so come make your tee cause it's all on "we"

hit a founder up for a discount, g

if you got a klout score like kim k

you could prolly make 10 g's or more a day

even normal people from the north to the south

use teespring just to put food in they kid's mouths

one young chick even buying a house

with her profits off teespring (large amounts)

so if you into shirts into cash have a club

in a band raising money have some fans on the web

if you want it high quality and no cost down

teespring is the thing, other sites is clowns.