tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-362610142012-02-18T03:31:41.424-05:00J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.comBlogger261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-48109336876442349362011-12-11T15:13:00.006-05:002012-02-18T03:31:41.431-05:00

I want you to fuck me Like you don't know me Like I'm worthless Make me do what I almost want to do Spread me open Run me over Pull me through the dark Examine me in the light I want you to tell me what you want To be your everything To be wanted I want a little pleasure in this life I want to come when I hurt I want to laugh when I die

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-29543676512685210042011-10-19T10:33:00.006-04:002011-10-21T04:32:55.715-04:00

Art is good Love is good Burger King is good You know, shit like that Life has enough diversions to keep me from killing myself and enough misery to make me glad that one day I'll die and never have to do this again

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-24915661234193430852011-10-01T06:51:00.013-04:002012-02-16T21:06:23.579-05:00

Popped into a peep show on Seventh Avenue to jam a fork in my heart and leave a mess of molten death A handful of men browsed DVDs and picked their balls A lone Guatemalan mopped the stalls Hacked up and de-boned men walk beneath billboards dicks yawning hearts sleeping Love and desire tied together like shoes on a wire

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-58071716233467059952011-09-21T10:41:00.003-04:002011-09-24T16:34:06.276-04:00

Kid married at twenty-two You'll get bored I say She's too good to you Six months You'll split for women who don't give a shit who want nothing but the monster They'll pump you full of guts Your love will die in flashing lights And you'll find another wife soon who will do the same to you

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-67060056899074168782011-09-18T19:30:00.004-04:002011-09-22T11:03:26.831-04:00

The real challenge isn't coming up with new ideas but having the nerve to say something you really feel when it's been said to death

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-36396361132455850322011-09-18T00:51:00.005-04:002011-09-21T10:59:45.691-04:00

She holds on tight as the light inside you turns red She listens with her good ear while you fart out dead puppies While you punish her for the lies of dead and distant lovers But shit, when that splitting skull of alarms goes quiet And the only woman you'll ever know the way you know does too You'll learn

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-40082137119063674042011-05-02T18:35:00.007-04:002011-09-21T10:58:26.459-04:00

Lack of oxygen to the brain or a lack of brain The latter: head trauma The former: everything else Until then your body devoted to your brain fills incessant orders for glucose and oxygen Keeps you alive whether you deserve it or not Death lays her eggs in your heart and the earth takes you back after life has molested and infected you Murdered in an alley Draped in a flag Turning grey over

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-89639910449750368852011-03-11T20:15:00.008-05:002011-09-21T10:47:02.759-04:00

The first warm sun A pork rind bodega thawed, farted steam into a half-moon of smiling junkies and gunshot cripples A chapped Arab peeled cardboard from the entryway Waxed a weak shine back into the floor Swept butts and Dipsy Doodle bags into the avenue The same old hags scratched at piles of Lucky Sevens As they would during blizzards and earthquakes Huddled just to the right of the register

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-56042667936457648592011-02-14T19:52:00.006-05:002011-04-19T01:30:05.342-04:00

I think it's remarkable That people can Get fucked in the ass Christians say it's unnatural So is a house Freezing to death is natural

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-7801975992060774682011-02-13T01:26:00.002-05:002011-09-21T02:25:48.977-04:00

All the boners had boners Every boner was filling a hole Every hole had holes and the boners found them all Time had no beginning and death didn’t mean shit The boner of existence fucked the black hole of nothing and everything was born again Everyone had another round Whiskey made them smarter, cigarettes helped them breathe Lovers were always satisfied and never had reason to leave

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-24560228218375177412010-12-20T22:31:00.018-05:002011-08-19T23:37:00.437-04:00

Gave them $10 Sat beneath an illuminated photo of the Great Wall of China The Berlin Wall The West Bank Wall The wall around me That keeps you out Plate of hard ribs and soft cabbage Watery Coke The others, like me sat one to a table eating with mouths open and no one to impress Thought about love So far off Walked out into the snow

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-32472868386254590202010-06-09T12:55:00.002-04:002011-02-13T10:46:01.299-05:00

On the way out of the supermarket A pretty little thing Let the door slam in my face And my groceries She became ugly Like me She was ruining The world Like me I just wanted to fuck her In the stock room While ordering her to hold The door next time But I picked up the groceries And went home And made eggs Only two were broken

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-21229123565950349132009-12-05T20:57:00.039-05:002011-09-18T15:25:07.459-04:00

You think you learn To leave them alone Push in a finger They swallow your arm Watching their hands Wanting their hips Pulling out twenties And sinking the ship The night aches on 'til you wobble alone down the wet streets at dawn to a wreck of a home I meant what I meant Not sure what I said Into sleep, hard To dream of the dead The years and the people From their hands to their tits To miss

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-48297762553711957912009-07-01T20:12:00.005-04:002011-02-14T09:55:42.417-05:00

Bottle of Gato Negro Sauvignon Blanc From the liquor store Off Riverdale Avenue In Yonkers Pressed my finger to The bulletproof Plexiglass “$4.99. Is that the cheapest?” The label spoke of intimate moments Recommended it as an aperitif To be paired, perhaps With mild seafood Stopped at the bodega On the way home Grabbed a can of sardines

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-5871431706294094312009-06-24T15:09:00.007-04:002011-02-14T08:12:14.479-05:00

Every little thing you had Was in jeopardy at all times Motherfuckers taking what you suffered to earn without pity They were always there Agreeing with you Grabbing with itchy hands When you made friends When you made enemies You were only sorting the grabbers and the lovers When their arms extended You needed to be sure Whether to break them Or let them hold you

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-16341122256694783252009-06-24T14:28:00.012-04:002011-07-20T13:28:41.045-04:00

Evolution is simply a perpetual battle against faulty design It moves in one direction: Repair Everything broken must be fixed Every hole must be filled A helm with no captain A bottle of wine Forgotten in a cellar Forever drunk on itself An elevator to nowhere

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-40469464614553359782009-02-20T22:23:00.048-05:002012-01-28T10:43:41.747-05:00

Tired of being the gentle, loyal one The one who stroked the back of your head and loved you to death Remembered anniversaries Picked you up from work Took you home to meet the family Strained himself on elaborate gestures Collapsed when you'd been unfaithful Tired of chasing Patching leaks Keeping it all afloat So I didn't do it anymore I became a carnivore The one you cheated on the other

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-73630481740270535432008-12-20T22:43:00.003-05:002011-02-17T06:24:05.363-05:00

As the ones we lost find their bearings among the rooms of death, they soon discover a set of circuit breakers. Down a short hallway, past the closets that hold Jupiter, Saturn, brooms, mops and ammonia. Past the courtyard where all the unused tornadoes are kept. There, in a large auditorium behind a heavy brown curtain of blood, are rows of switches with names beside them. Those left behind in

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-5742277295396326752008-05-08T02:44:00.008-04:002011-07-20T13:34:03.662-04:00

Sean wakes me up at a quarter after six Puts a key in my nose And a cigarette in my mouth We’re talking about whatever. Post-bender repartee. Jessie says “Sean, let’s go to bed, Jonah needs his rest” I shit I shower Pull out my notebook Can’t go back to sleep Coming down now I’ve learned to love that, too What is anything But going up And coming down Do it gracefully

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-90690071959664381152008-05-08T02:42:00.010-04:002011-05-25T11:12:30.715-04:00

We were fighting She was sleeping with another guy It didn’t hurt anymore Why not break up? So we did Left the shitty attic Moved into a shitty basement Looked at the life I'd ignored For so long Ended up talking To a therapist That’s the thing with those assholes They tell you it’s not your fault You have no reason to be depressed But it is And you do

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-33284275414858117522008-05-08T02:39:00.006-04:002011-09-17T21:22:43.972-04:00

Onto the subway Walks a man Face burned By acid Peering at passengers From cocktail onions Pushed into wet mud I give him some money Others follow suit Touch their own faces To make sure They're still them And he's still he Skin is a tough bitch Slit open and fried Tries hard To stay true If it fails It still tried Still keeps each hell On the appropriate side

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-55510254623393071902007-12-21T23:04:00.006-05:002011-09-23T13:34:35.702-04:00

Drink and write all day. Fishing through the ashtray. I'm a Coney Island Rottweiler with his teeth in the fence. Could very well die here, like this, hands frozen around Brooklyn's throat. Two kids shot last night. Drank Hennessey tonight with Ed and Christmas on Vernon Avenue. We made a toast to staying alive. Best the three of us can do right now. Ed lit a joint and we talked about Beirut, the

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-54093118736806954392007-11-27T08:27:00.002-05:002011-03-11T21:48:22.954-05:00

Always my head, my stomach, my teeth. Twisted sheet metal. Sharp, evil pain. No insurance, doctors. Out of cigarettes. Too many cigarettes, can't breathe. Cranky dog with no yard. Farts, but no shit. Food, no stove. Lovely women, no love. A fully-customized life and no memory. Plans without money. Teetering in front of a screen, full of fading ideas. Hands severed, fingers melted to keys. Beating

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-3543330954022856382007-11-26T23:15:00.005-05:002011-02-14T10:00:33.024-05:00

The small, third story bedroom at 47 Vernon Avenue fits me well. A sloping ceiling with a small window at the far end. I face the window in an aluminum folding chair, gauging my condition by how much fantasy I entertain. Daydreaming. Playstation. Reading. Porn. That raw cock rising over a JPEG of someone else and someone elser. You can't tell a JPEG you're gonna slip a finger in, and tease it

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-56381838440155486322005-07-20T13:56:00.000-04:002011-07-20T13:57:08.159-04:00

What doesn't kill you builds a wall between the heart and the eyes

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36261014.post-39342999976061861542005-03-09T21:36:00.051-05:002011-07-20T13:51:16.786-04:00

You can't discard the awkward parts The shopping carts of sticky cans Words she took too hard Dishes rotting in the sink Wet mail in the yard The days you can't wake up and think Staring drunk through the window for hours We're all here Between scenes Along the inexhaustible and exhausting stretches of inertia that connect the dots of joy

J. Ellishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914956261252899612noreply@blogger.com0