By Mike Bushnell

(Illustrated by Jenn Kucharczyk)

I lean on the urn I whistle at the oxen how many times do I have to fail you for this life to be worthwhile I fade into the scene I feel normal in my anguish my inability to to pass on I look at life as an ego I am in the way and death comes for me to right things I cry in the hallway I cry on the linoleum I whistle in the bathroom while I look in the mirror and figure out math I yawn at that smh fuck the holographic principal I sing to you with my eyes I beg you with my fingernails there is nothing I know and I wreck on the rocks in the standard fashion with my trademark passion and the patterns that have gotten me here I rock I rub my hair I rub my fingers together I am in the light listening to the underbelly I have no identity I will be forgotten hah this voice that comes for us it echoes to ask of us and I do not know I do not contain I sway in the dreamy these keys aren't real these buttons are really just language making you see buttons I slither to the roadside I look over the sunset I haven't tied my shoe I haven't heard you really I magine being angry I magine being happy I feel helpless but it is all part of the plan I am not above it I am of it these days roll down the portable afterburners stutter cry on me please show me something what is it that hides what is it that touches you how do I see it I type to the sound of the cats circling and the little breath in the night the whispering vixen I look back I let go I hope again I hope to see the lovely parts and prove no thing but bring but bring but bring this angry man to justice he grows in there and I am in the debate again I move on I want to head for the hills but the battle is in me and me and over here is the sound of the breaking glass rust I am not looking I will not watch you anymore I long to dedicate to distance so I can succeed at it for once and the endless egret of human interaction will not come for me it is the two paths it is a tracksuit that gives me dreams of greatness I have no friends I have no lovers I am a pattern of hot and cold regions conflicting I am a weight I am not huge I try to grow I eat and eat everyday but I walk so fast and then sitting and sitting and sitting and enough of the hobby the little raw this tingling arc I compress myself into an incredibly small size I big bang I expand space itself this universe isn't big enough for the one of me I am talking to a galaxy I am talking to the dislike me I see happiness from far off I am a fire I feel the fire I dream roots I move on I move on I think about butterflies and taxes I move on I sing to whales and lick the nugget velcro the seed to the flashbulb observe the outhouse through the periscope I am all the stars I am all the galaxies we are so similar but I must move on and I comb on and put in the two coins to feel the vibrations of the bed I am not going to do it I am going to move on I feel little pains in my body I feel swallowed I am ballooning this desperation powers me to seek this world that hasn't interest in my stupid ways my wwwwwwwstumbles on my heart just do normal I stole a blue boat to put in the bath tub and the dwarfs line up to hold up the television I am ballooning I bubble out from between your hands the seed behaves similarly I used to get along so easily and now it is just scary and I have no idea how to do this honestly without issue or threat I long to touch the flag and shimmy on the radiator and expel these repressed urges for the goddam connection there just isn't any music there just isn't anything going on tonight I have been edited out I hear voices through the floor I feel my clean feet you must be sleeping I think I hear your voice I am not sure but I am not sure I have dreamed of this and dreamed of this dreamed of this in the scariest ways I know I feel my fear I long to be open without threat I long for open and loving without feeling like sunscreen oh goodness this lifelike synthesizer I should have hid in the bathroom so you couldn't I long for a cigarette less than I long to be near you I have to just keep going by my gut I no longer understand my poison or the wheelchair while I lean on the desk in twilight while I hum to the excavator in the gravel pile while I dip my knife into this theater will you come with me will you come with me I am sorry for the alarm I fear your stickiness I fear your fearful get on my lap get over it move that ass the little sack of metal things I want to call my own oh be normally I don't want to circle and circle and limbo and lust I dance around the fire I look into the fire I watch someone jump over the fire there is just the same kind or vision there is just the same kind of passion fruit pandas on cars in the middle of the landfill I expected less difficulty I expected to move on there there incoming the tides are the turning thing that listens to the sound of the voice of the voice of the ice and I am your friend I want to be your friend even if you have a husband the door is open if you want to lean if you want to grow up with me and look at the stuffed animals in the display case she is trifling her hair there's tokens there's glasses we take off lemme hear that tweet tweet lemme sink my bones into you like the mast gone unfastened maybe we can catch a malt or something maybe we can drive each other off the road and crash our separate ways I am so tired my hands are tired my head is heavy I urge to nap I urge to trap myself in a situation that ends here is the music box here is the sound of the door I don't know anymore I just want I desire and tire of complexities and long for the simple dimpling goodness tuxedos alive I am on the steps listening they're everywhere this motor rolls over the hill the grass is crushed The clovers crushed and the dusty listless illness remains listen to the boredom it is so normal it is so normal it stings like a sunburn I am I am dancing in my chair I have nothing to lose but your respect it is the failing song in the star in the little galaxy I have never gotten the hang glider to heat up like this before this is the last night the last night sadly stuckly sandy hand I need to need I need to over turn the odds and give in to the standard path I must move on it is not good enough I must revert I must relearn life just breaks in ways I never knew of I sing at the mirror I sing in the bathroom I listen to the sound of e horses I know there is a animal inside I have no doubt I have a flying baby in the center of the frame as I snap the picture the touchdown dance as usual I end zone as usual I updraft the little curtain I sing the song of the worthless I sing the rancid handiwork there is pain in the wrist I am a terrible baboon I have all these manners that build feathery regrets I have all these manners and niceness that hides the rusty worthless sound of the chin I have listened I have leaned in there is not enough in this box I have no meal here I go hungry I am always hungry it is the bed it is the rust is it enough I don't know I hope to find out by failing until I don't care about failing anymore and have no illusions of success or dreams or the thin sad drool that drips I am on the edge of nothinging my dreams are broken my face is falling apart my hair is fucking crazy I had clothes that fit but I walk too much now and I belt I look at the loops I like to think about you thinking about the things I think about it makes me feel less alone I am a magician I stay trickin myself slight of life the wrist is delicate ads cover the wall I listen to woman folk singers fuck I don't know what this world is anymore I write to the facsimile just another failure parading like artifacts touring the museum drop it on the bitch make it nasty I don't know I want to touch people I want to touch them emotionally and with my hands and I want to touch people with my dick and I feel like that makes me sickening and my desires seem gross to me and they burn such desperation into this forest on the side of the city I want find the true fears I want to move on I have a sad life to think about while I walk from one chair to the next


mike bushnell lives in new york city