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Dried Zero

Dried emotional zero
Dates graded
Openly caustic
Driven abstract
Absurd
Happy
Howling
Oven orangutan
1997 devoted
Mucus procurements
Denounce
Moistened
Envelope
Greetings
Shallow
Wilting
Flooding
Salad dressing
Sheaths
Of
Shelled pudding
Mementos
Weary pot potent
Gamblers
Forfeited
Giraffe installments
Legislation
Jury
Jurassic
Other worldly
People phantoms
Mighty best
Beautiful
Zen
Zeno
Zeus
Zealand
Scruggs
Tank no longer have
Loud motorized
Caribou
Caricatures
Fleshy
Floral
Arrangements antimatter
Ants
Etching particular
Partial
Sketches
Movie bitter butter
Hot water caramel
Glass foot piercings
Calcify esteem
Jello molds ascend
Biweekly
Goats shake we
Amman
Boldness beans
Stave the same time
Heroic herons
Ticklish
Points
Ascribe
Tough fruitful events
Inside
Colored chalks change
Daffodil
Tamale
Tampa
Sky buttocks
Cuban
Rican
Shooting shouts
Verbatim
Thy deity absolves
Frito
Pie
Dilemmas
Once every
Diaphanous
Mental
Moon
Noon

Moon Landing

Sometimes it all hurts but makes sense. Sometimes it captures my soul and tosses it around like a wounded sock puppet amidst a violent wash cycle. Nonsense is my bread and butter. Now and forever more. But beyond it all is a shiny facade. Something akin to a shiny new nickel. A nickel. I wish I lived in the era when a nickel was considered to be a hell of a lot of money. Hell, I wish I lived in an era when one dollar went further than any moon landing. Hope? Wishes? Yes, these are things I desire. These are things I know we all desire. Desires are fickle bastards! Just when you think you’ve done away with them more are born and begin to eat away at your mind. If I were to truly abandon society… would I miss it? Would it miss me? I suppose it wouldn’t really matter; even if I tried to make it matter. I can hear solitude calling out to me on a daily basis. Maybe I’m hearing things but maybe not. Maybe I analyze too much but maybe not. My countenance is mine and no one else’s. I tell nothing that hasn’t been told before by many. I write nothing that hasn’t been written before by many. I suppose I could be called one of the few who chooses not to hide behind metaphors and parables. Most would consider this to be a grave problem or disease. But I do not; not at all. For instance, the other day I was making myself a ham sandwich and became mesmerized by the amount of visible grains in the bread. It was supposed to be one of those “heart smart” loaves of which I believe aren’t as smart as they would have us believe. I mean… grain in bread! Who would have thought we’d see the day? Don’t even get me started on all the lean meats being pushed in the stores these days. What I write here I write it for a specific purpose. A “goal” if you will. Smell it. Taste it. Otherwise someone else will grab it up. My heart and brain is a jumble. You’d think they know enough to know that they must be connected and intertwined with one another but alas they do not. One cosmically ordered scenario cannot and should not take precedence over another. Though, it is quite difficult to imagine this. Because it is inescapable. I wonder how much longer it will be until we finally colonize the Moon. (?)

All words written by Ryan A. Loera
Copyright 2015

Self Involved

A rich emporium of eagle satin pleasure troves of unfamiliar dyslexia feels normal. Stood by her only broken thumb and wrist to douse the pain points with my mental minutiae. Funny, funnily space is a farce not far from fortitude. Speaking up for the loneliness inside us all.

The tubes are light like pancakes and butter and not syrup. Science makes believers into cynics: purposeful fortuitous. Jesus, the back hurts. Say it will mimic okay.

Each day the sun sparkles in particular for whorish mannerisms. Say, I said that that would find you in unknown states of cholera. Pandemic, handle your broom pushing allegory. Turtles have lived for centuries before us human beings. I am quite certain they will outlive whole generations of peoples.

I cannot find a reason to ask out carnality and bring some home with me. Why? What for? Carnal delights are only delightful once in a plaid moon. If, if, if. If at all.

For what washer there was no doubt over the matter of a waxy hearted life filled and unfilled with lots of cello cellophane teardrops. Fangs to scrub with toothbrushes. Silvery stars crossed uncrossed vague delusions. Get her some special treatment, lotion.

(Aware of lifetime, a lifetime gone by.)

What is time? What is tiime? What is you? What is me? What is we? What is why? Why is why?

Another bossy window whore. She denies the cultural existence of another other follower who begins to dabble in the black arts. Arts of good-ness subtle wings fanciful the trees, trees, trees try reconnecting us with the truth of the matter of factual evidential screamo skies. (!)

In a very particular way I chased after her afterthought. The sidewalk felt firm yet agile. She said she was once a lioness in a previous life. I believed her only because she scribbled fiction on a plain paper plate. Connect dots; the dots connect every single thang thing.

Delineate the process. Belittle the essence. Sanctify the wholeness.

An estimated reading time of one minute and nine seconds is not a goal. 1,111 bodily counts down the melee. Exruciating in detailed spring memories surrender it all to the lasting symbolic deafness.

Egg sandwiches. Egg salad. Fried egg sandwiches.

Nearest molecules build us up in every possible vagueness. Absent minded I emplore the use of deoxy ribonucleic acid in my work. See it, sing it, want it, be it, it it.

We are our own victims. Victimized desensitized.

Self involved confusions usually involve rotating patterns of starlight. If at all, all.

Mirror Man

Saw a man in the streets lugging around an oversized mirror. You see he used to be a very successful stockbroker. He had it all: money, women, cars, vacation homes & plenty of recreational drugs at his disposal.

Then one day everything changed for him. He made one bad investment after another and lost millions! He defaulted on every loan and had all of his material things sold off at an auction. He was devastated. He tried to buy back his stuff but all he could afford was that mirror.

It once belonged to his grandfather and had been in his family for hundreds of years. His grandfather gave it to him on his deathbed and told him, "This mirror is very special. It can bring you lots of good luck or lots of bad luck. It all depends on what kind of person you are."

He did not believe his grandfather initially but now that he has lost almost everything he doesn't know what to believe. Therefore, he remains determined to hang on to that mirror for however long it takes him to get back his fortune.

Even if it means lugging it around for all eternity.

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