Dylan Wolfram

Thank you for reading, you're rad.

[dwolfram]

Trees

We grow so much

we change fashions,

partners, habits,

friends, countries,

fears, and grudges.

We grow so much

we turn to trees

that tickle the sky’s belly

and sway with the wind

hide behind the drape of fog

shake and drop leaves

destined to grow

and grow

still.

[dwolfram]

the cashier yawns

side-eyeing, glaring

pretending not caring but...

if that skeleton puts a baby formula in

her pants I'm telling someone.

she whispers at her friend.

Last week it was a brown skin fuck

tryin to slide some razors,

but was out of luck 'cause the guard had a taser

she says convinced, not even Jesus could save them.

Hello, how are you,

Lettuce, mozzarella, pears and bananas

I was next in line.

[dwolfram]

Happiness Costs A Tooth

Last night I dreamed

I shot myself in the mouth.

Today I woke up happy,

minus a molar.

[dwolfram]

a trashcan was spewing flames to the blue February sky

the breeze encouraged the CS-gas to invade my nostrils

everyone was chanting against the prime minister

once the chant was over and most were on the run from flying battons

a lady in her 40's screamed at another protester: "calling the PM names? is that your political ideology?"

oh to be that naive

[dwolfram]

what was that song about society?

Who are you

this Sunday?

the taste of chemicals,

or coffee & bacon, or communion.

hundred feet away or so

a flashbang embraces

a molotov cocktail

and they dance to dissolution.

the crowd disperses in disarray

they are artists, delivery boys, doctors and clerks.

the crowd is kidz

the crowd is babies in strollers with their familes

and the tear gas keeps on coming

[dwolfram]

always -- a haiku

check your attitude

nothing is / lasts forever

check your attitude

[dwolfram]

The bed, or the cat, or the knife, or the gun, or the keyboard singing clack clack clack can only save. The bed is trite, the cat is tired, the knife is dull, I can’t afford a gun. So every time I feel messed up, I crack my fingers and tickle the keyboard to sing that clack clack clack.

[dwolfram]

scribbled notes

foggy brain

i'm bored, it's cold and late

but then again, it feels like an eternity

that's been this way.

[dwolfram]

surfers of suffering

the only difference

between night and day

is the temperature.

hot hot hot

you can hear white tank-tops

w khaki shorts

conclude every hour

with breaks between 3AM and 6AM.

meme expert is now a legit profession

and taste is defined by

algorithm calculations

hot hot hot

you can hear

summer dresses exclaim

Another summer on the island

surfers of suffering

the waves grow taller every day.

[dwolfram]

fuck it

the noise of traffic

or the noise in my head

can't put my finger on

what's pulling me

to the 10th level of hell.

[dwolfram]

and when the crutches

almost do you in and are left behind

your whole body

will fight

every decision your brain makes

with anthills, hair loss, and random aches.

[dwolfram]

some work to pay bills.

some work so they don't off themselves.

truth comes,

in dream states

sometimes bearing roses

sometimes rabidly snarling

[dwolfram]

life

it's always 2 AM

palms are sweating

stuck in a stranger's kitchen

at a tasteless party

the music's blasting

teeth are chattering

jaws are swinging

cups are filled to the brim

and words are flying.

and it's always 2 AM

and it's always "one more round before we go"

and it always ends with disaster.

life on repeat

until all turns black.

[beardedmrbean]

[the-doom-report-late-edition-de]

Goes hard I'm afraid

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Benjamin Dunklin

[dwolfram]

"O Mikey, Where Art Thou" (audio link at the bottom)

I could only be there for a dream so I gathered my one month's worth of words a bottle of rum and a small bag of weed, hurried and got to his crib.

"You know it's a shame that this PA doesn't go up to eleven because tonight we're going on a Holy Bender" he exclaimed in excitement as I entered.

He led the way with a Nyorican jive and elegance fueled strut to the living room.

The poster over his couch caught my eyes "help me God, 'cause man won't" it read.

We sat back on the leather seats we filled our glasses and we got ready to begin.

We puffed and we sipped exchanging ideas, finishing the bottle of rum and moving on to gin. We puffed and we sipped moving with style further down my dream.

Last night, I was chilling with Mikey.

We wrote together, drank together, smoked together, sought for thrills that righteously put the Holy to our bender.

'Til in the end we didn't need the PA to go up to eleven 'cause we were too busy living to be concerned about Hell or Heaven.

Listen: https://dylanwolfram.bandcamp.com/track/o-mikey-where-art-thou

[dwolfram]

taste, knowledge, love;

these things are

not supposed to be

a competition,

they are supposed to be respected.

[dwolfram]

Brand New Eyes

we’re all lost

in this jungle

of concrete

and fear

and loneliness

and perpetual chase

of money power.

we’re all lost

and afraid

that one day

the sun might not rise.

we all need

assurance, warmth

acceptance

or love

as they call it one word.

we all need

to choke

and kill

what holds us down

buried underground

beneath piles and piles

of superficial hapiness

we all need

to look at the world

with a set of

brand new eyes.