is this edible?

“First he drank the wine. It was poignant, sweet; despite its low cost. He stumbled out of his apartment and walked three blocks to Gus’s house—where he and Delilah had once sharing a romantic dinner.”

May 17

Chapter 7

It was as if the sun had given birth to clouds.


Chapter 6

"Well, that’s what this is about. I refuse to talk about it any further. I just wanted to know your answer to those questions."

Jason got up and left the table in a rage—leaving Brady to pay the check. Brady was, once again, dumfounded. Jason usually lacked the wisdom to say meaningful things, if this had any meaning at all. Even more surprising was that he was not on a conquest for money; Brady had been convinced that Jason’s motives were monetary. Brady, took one last bite of his danish, a final swig of coffee, and paid the check.


Chapter 5

His coffee and Danish were brought to the table. The Danish was kind of stale and the coffee was too light; he ate them anyway. He gave up on the coffee after the fourth sip. A few minutes later, his brother Jason walked in. Brady got up and motioned for a hug, but Jason refused coldly, and sat down across from Brady.


Chapter 4

As he walked up to the counter, Brady took notice of the “give a penny, take a penny” dish. He always felt guilty if he didn’t put a penny in the tray; almost paranoid—as if some man who was short one cent of buying a roll of breath mints would knock on his door and question his morals. It was moments like these in which Brady was reminded of his father. Joe Palmer approached everything with reason, rather than instinct or impulse; but ironically, had many superstitions. Brady asked the man at the counter for a pack of Marlboro Lights, then dug out a crumpled five dollar bill from his pocket. The change was 47 cents. Brady put all seven of the pennies in the tray. Good; this would promise him good karma in the future. Brady laughed out loud at his thoughts as he walked outside—he did not believe in karma.

While walking away from the gas station, Brady glanced at his reflection in a puddle. His head was generously garnished with gray hairs. He didn’t mind; there was no one for Brady to look youthful and attractive for. Brady had only been in love once; Susan Sanders—and that was a long time ago. Frustrated with his inability to communicate and show emotion, Susan left Brady for their former High School quaterback. Brady didn’t need her anyway, he didn’t need anyone or anything.

Lost in thought, Brady was awakened the sobering sound of a car crash occuring several yards away.  


Chapter 3

Brady laughed. He knew he and his father were almost nothing alike. Joe Palmer had a sense of duty; Brady questioned everything. From the start, Brady was a Nihilist. He wasn’t lazy, but he certainly lacked motivation. Brady never pushed himself to do anything. His parents, frustrated with his indifference to rules and moral structure, punished him frequently. Brady would be banished to his room—which was where he wanted to be anyway.


Chapter 2

Brady picked up the newspaper and flipped to the classifieds section. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular. In fact, he loathed shopping and material possessions in general. Brady liked to see what people were selling—things that were once cherished, but no longer have a use to their owner. Items once purchased with eagerness, but now sitting in a duct-taped, cardboard box in someone’s garage—awaiting the day when they will be exchanged for cash in the least intimate, anonymous fashion. Brady felt compassion for the items bought and sold—he felt their loneliness and rejection. This was why he did not own many things. His apartment was bare. Other than groceries and household essentials; Brady posessed only a worn arm chair in front of his TV, a bookcase full of literature, and a few personal knick knacks on a shelf. That was it. It was not that he was unable to afford many possessions, but that he had no desire for them. Brady was an avid reader. He read everything; the labels on food products, billboards, fine print in magazine ads, bumper stickers, and any words his eyes met. Ironically, seldom did Brady read anything that he found to be meaningful. Brady had no real interests, and no real passions. He saw no point in having a purpose, and lacked principles to live by. In this way, people saw Brady Palmer as a dull person.

Brady was craving some toast, which reminded him that he needed to meet his co-worker at “La Mort D’amour” in 20 minutes. He threw on some couderoy pants and a big brown sweater and locked the door. On the way out, Brady’s landlord stopped him to inquire about his rent which was a few days late.


Chapter 1

It had been a particularly uneventful morning at the Palmer residence on July 4th. Brady Palmer had just finished his breakfast and was about to move on to his second cup of coffee. Brady was very particular about his coffee—he liked it to be the color of his skin tone, which was a pale shade of butterscotch. This was in direct contrast to his father, who did not care one bit how his coffee was made. To him, it all tasted the same. When Mr. Palmer ordered coffee at the local diner, he would tell the waitress’, “surprise me.” Sometimes she’d bring him black coffee; sometimes light coffee. Sometimes it had sugar; sometimes it didn’t. Most of the time, the waitress would get frustrated and bring him black coffee with milk and sugar on the side—to flavor the coffee to his liking. When it came to coffee, Joe Palmer was not picky. However, this was not his nature; Brady’s father was very opinionated and strict. Having served and fought as a Sergeant in Vietnam, he’d lost most of his sensitivity toward others. Joe Palmer had seen the worst side of mankind and lived through it. Though he smiled often, it was just a mask—you could see the emptiness in his eyes. Joe became detached and took up drinking—which ultimately led him to his grave six years ago.

The phone rang; Brady didn’t feel like answering. It was probably just his landlord reminding him that his rent was late. After the third ring, he picked up—remembering that he was expecting a call from his brother, Jason. It wasn’t him.


Paralyze Polish Vol. 1 of 1: Orphan Stains

Six years in the making and ive deemed it unsalvagable.

1989 Treatment voids collapse eternity voices empty echoes digest remember knots knowledge reminding dwell forgive no power start mason skip linger down go stamped best the plastic of art rhythm forget not for write deck give no sight type for never here twice reality leave lonely prying wait soul spill element structure waffle treatment whirling pocket shutters broken sideways journeys stretching sacrifice foam airport soliciting

Wallpaper Teardown we dilemma reject persuasive open hue modify infinity autopsy concentration decay alternative irony regulation red button therapy saturation synchronize envelope william egg wisdom poison dictionary resemblance of through exist key in flag wave manufacture forever not down mirror shock pointed candy mail burn 20 for today and turn jar selfish bright crab bleed reject no rotate note remind gasp sleep now don’t remain conscious will tell for push headphones remainder socks

Decaying Tooth pet a porcupine season activity watch insightful anorexic applied rubber spring mend for apple quiz he scissor cut flesh fall water measure prentice micro-study sink extra clock you star that soda ink drip sneeze don’t for outside refrain from fluid never drown mind in scarce thought plenty for they and throw them lined dots together to form perforated scream towel curved village lab smash your welcome dread teeth fish don’t cardboard running the gradual slowly corn and elaboration document defense fence relay clue jesus shake what chapter not bring your truth to the latter and ring feet into wash phlegm speak of his but not shared life lie over say only what needs to be said

Red Button Therapy locksmith grief morning knuckles early eyes of ghost statue intrigue clutter don’t manipulation tooth violation adhesive aids independent smear teach apprehend spatter seemingly purpose

Topple Hate Relations treat crowded skies with their menu splatter shells last nothing of a starfish painted on the wall pointing to a dripping fish paper back in weigh rivet glass seaweed eyes explode border efforts minute cave misses develop among send the best wishes to electricity flow like water swim volt gone remember land straight head wear thousands pull chains and laugh loudly miss sharp feet rescue window your excuses are above transport mission circles instant top kittens swerve party staples we know not to chart eskimo vultures mixed flu syndromes symptom business train welch strong sesame seeds excite hinge explore reasons topple hate relations but difficult means something harder in basket rise life fence mass calculate velocity distribution backpack solutions inclined for direct insistence

Skin Deflation empty stomach specializing shop swing youth line departure famine paper stab immigrant spilling time noisy rotting tree fluctuation perspective speculator separation sub-committee superstition consuming ghost deformity folds past sense vision relate conventional amsterdam too many fragments of grip assumption plaid doorknob belting show shoes telephone pink head leak sandwich chaotic assembly early snap tour chapter instead university spindles plebeians risk step into bodies awaken shift tissue whispers sake forgotten burning ritual mind unwind into shadows ordinary location movement abundant formation short wave shit capacity staff attention eagles kind merry seasonal choose paper people sharpen office scratch walls thermostat chalk dust flowers graphite nails bend page guidance

Periwinkle Swish Elbows close the drawer stationary oscillation association install info institute point all directions to maximum plaque complete second bridge armchair sleep disc candlelight rock backwards wash photo system revolve early recycle window fragment presents the yesteryear stopped throbbing port wood drawer adventure through corpse limited revised substance magical help mysteries past soul basket air shoes depend varied walk headlight rain safety charge bow indignant freezer burn swish elbow periwinkle forward pay your attention barnacle vultures bury nonsense into delusional tap warmth

Chlamydia Subscript drift on the other side of everyday chew a tree of toothaches bridge the gap of enter zero organ infestation idiot mittens burning mitosis slap outlandish name brick since same decipher draft straddle self chlamydia subscript sculpt a footprint logic anointed nitroglycerine adhesive

Rotting Tree Fluctuation electric spirit organizers post always prentice physical were being correctional require fuel for courage barriers the fold light town remembrance depot go wash extra disco beauty pulp among miss cabinet fiction scale to weigh thick air through draped curtains develop damage on purple planet scars paper blue clean free energy silk juice made fossilized near during chains kit laboratories why fly skip series crowd release answer should subliminal deposit nature fuck dead dinosaurs back snow stings white tribal headlines behind read paranoia worship explorer leveled content hands have us been element skies hall instructions differentiated future chamber let walls paint them fall drip torture convert duplicate memory leather leaf loose tire drive crooked ear shakes rise photograph should activate archaic healing tuesday

The Box Car Children investigation system application figuration foot seasons green parties auction availability debate retail epidemic accounts tear hair out of print by standard slimy seats turtles kick bats equilibrium finance ticket feet window opens tissue romance evaluate less more orphan stains on variable warbler wharf tonic all of above synchronize relay watch lift slumber over drimble squeeze fort queezy zimp dreams sink into fiber blotches uncoordinate sleeve completely stitch smooth sloppy lamplight fry necks fuzzy blanket jump scotch hop kneel on kitten stools to reach counter brush pursue logo snap door slam repeat 12 times and poison smug wood beam paralyze

Residue pigmy binding relies upon sticker residue optics artificial drain cottage knees tapestry engagement frames for rise progress period hanging from variety don’t take jackets good from phantom paint sides they bureau rhyme scheme could tiles crate melt ear exist fountain plague liberty announce seat stack aging paper tables plant seeds within cork screen rust ocean flip tea dreary shirt tuck flower fire off embarrass best drape fence sandwich stand breathe statuary castle drench heat vibrations folk screen moonlight chalk journal drink pastry offer diplomatic fluke finals coach future flag storage leaves florescent tape scars wristband smile was hubcap folder glass dictator think board bullets vent dents in your elastic highlighted malignant necklace credit

Melt Paper Liberty polish smile refugee blight appeal leading through furniture smash contribute point of danger calmness favor galley assure utmost carrying however cinder threat choice anguish necessity hound servant eyelash blossoms cascade elastic archway optical fragrance radiation fog limit zone only fist trumpet triumph small swallow bites


Crowded Assessments Folded Sky Fishes with Small Truth Fears Evaporated Concrete

 

I have no home, I have no family. Each day is a series of redundancies. This account has been documented in the passage below, entitled “Father Waffles:”

12 o’clock, put on a sweater. Scotch tape soviet, hole in my pocket. For years I’ve been dreaming of odd places, intimacy, flight, and death.


Dryway & Concrete Loop-de-Loops (Daydreams of a Better Daylight, Like Two Eggs Over-easy for Eyes)

One minute was all it took, and the discrepancies only became more visible with each prefix prescribed to the wasted days of one’s past; ultimately a reflection of the cycle. Foreshadowed in his/her own space, sinister delinquent thoughts evade the self—plagued by the opacity of dreams. It manifests—makes itself known; like a feather dusting the shadows off a shelf in space and time. Feather dreams and whistles, weary from old age and it stretched from sea to shining sea—across the fields and dark alleyways; suddenly vanquished. Like a love letter, festering. Inhalation of ancient factory fumes projecting thoughts through our everyday desires. Damaged goods, awaiting their danger which looms in a velocity overhead, sacred seminar sergeants washed away like a box of marbles. Reluctantly updated with hopes to be fastened to stairways of the future—super-dooper, but don’t forget to cover your cough. The real deal: approaching like a rhino in a Cadillac—full speed, head on collision; doubtful that any limb has been left un-amputated. Architects who designed this building used food as a metaphor. Let me explain: we all have different names. It was designed on an empty stomach full of neat-o, why not, religious motivations. God made man and man made the Xerox machine. What conclusion can be drawn? Well, when one considered tulips as a form of currency, it’s clear: disco will never die. But why even ask the question? It’s imported to learn about installing drywall so that history does not repeat like a skipping record in a jukebox in a diner in a box on a shelf surrounded by daylight and cursed with blessing of the same day delivery deli meat bomb squad saturated fat gluten-free tire-rotation dogs barking. The first step, and this is the most important step—for it is important to learn about installing drywall so that history does not repeat like a skipping record in a jukebox in a diner in a box on a shelf surrounded by daylight and cursed with blessing of the same day delivery deli meat bomb squad saturated fat gluten-free tire-rotation dogs barking. Anyway, the first step—and maybe the last step, I’m not too sure, but certainly nothing that couldn’t be learned from a book. Stop at your local Library on the way home from your destiny child-like do-gooder daycare doormat material things on a stick to it Darfur handbag grape soda the number eight daytrip. It’s all about you; the power is in your something hands. Tomorrow is Wednesday and there’s no hearing aid time to ditch-digger lose. Instantaneous hyphens of tomorrow can be at your doorstep today, with time to spare change loose ends tied up in knots like a pretzel off a truck last night down a winding path in my shoe, your shoe is untied sir/mayhem. Pay it forward and you will yield crops. United specifics of American wristwatch, I pledge allegiance to Brillo pad, and the united marsupials of a skipping record in a jukebox in a diner in a box on a shelf surrounded by daylight and cursed with blessing of the same day delivery deli meat bomb squad saturated fat gluten-free tire-rotation dogs barking up the wrong tree in a rainforest on a boat in the rock and roll hall of it’s a shame that my doorbell is broken record of an incident under the bed there’s monsters, I’m afraid. Daydreams of a better bacon, with no island of misfit toys to torture the Darwin of our dimensions; forever entangled in the spaghetti-like moments which crust over the rivers of our doomed fingernail inscriptions of life which we document on a field-trip and such as if it could fly with spoon wings and fork beaks over the bean lake and baseball cap mountains and it will never be over until the fat lady can sing the roll-on deodorant out of our photographic memory of a florescent fabric of time in these days where coffee-stained cerebral mustache can withstand a punch to the gut next to life’s lemonade stand; barely audible over the sound of the paper—flowing downstream like a salmon colored nail polish nightmare of fresh kicks to the head and cool green symposiums of our soul contain the ultimate truth which can be determined through a swift kick to the groin and the motion which follows is but only the manifestation of what we cannot forget, and the first step—by far the easiest step; requiring no previous knowledge of history which tends to repeat itself like a skipping record in a jukebox in a diner on a train to Manhattan and whatnot—but where’s the breadline Excedrin elevator dorm-room draught of the time when I was young with my cowboy boots—I had two pairs, both were black but one had red embroidery and one blue in the face from holding breaths of air in our lungs like a camel holding water for a trip to the Sahara Sunday night then sleeping on the couch which tends to be covered in cat hair like the dandruff which coats our imaginations like glue and glitter on a building, you need your rest like you need a swift kick to the Lisa Frank. How you’ve grown. Word is a substitution for a dice game, apple doesn’t fall very far from the quicker-picker-upper, and I’m not talking dance about the leopard time you dichotomy fell down the incest stairs. Utter my last words like a fountain spewing dirt.