e l e v a t o r   b o y   g a l l e r y
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  • Visual
    • Bottle Rocket Series
    • Explosions In My Head Series (large)
    • Explosions In My Head Series (small)
    • No More Sessions Series
    • Pen Ink Series
    • Tender Tin Series
    • Unfit Series
    • We're All Moving Series
    • Miscellaneous
  • Audio
  • Written
    • Poems 1
    • Short Verses 1
    • Short Verses 2
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​walking with a shoe and a half
but still aiming for distance
————————————–
water fall tree
leaves bunched
keeping clean
let's sit and recover
————————————–
cars that go,
people that
move towards them
who’s in charge?
————————————-
I will travel in time for bed
————————————-
Light sky,
fog,
soup,
mixed
with
minds that
run
————————————-
that church
looks like
it would keep
God entertained for awhile
————————————-
it's raining outside
but I just don’t care
I can be spared by time
——————————--
chewed up materials,
once, fresh off the shelf
once, fresh from the child’s hand
once, born innocent
——————————-
Thanks for shopping,
where’s the cash?
thanks for shopping.
—————————--
hopefully I will one day
finish washing these
piles of clothes, until
my skin
seeps through
————————--
I am fresh out of food.
can I drink the hundreds of
cola I have until it turns
into a solid in my stomach?
—————————-
low ceiling,
that can’t help
but expose their confusion
——————————-
If I were a fly
I would die instantly
—————————--
All the good people are 
underwater
—————————-
I forgot why I came here.
But let’s talk
___________
the window open,
while passengers
look at me 
in amazement;
pulling out
their “extra”
hats and mitts 
to counter-
attack my
body heat.
———————————————–
The class is waiting;
some chairs stacked high;
cause their pillows were
nice and soft.
——————————————–
Travelling in a streetcar,
that is confined to its
permanent direction.
Maybe the driver 
sometimes wishes the lanes
would break off
and lift off and never come back.
——————————————--
Strip clubs that offer grub
is like
eating in the bathtub
———————————--
Just sitting here,
trying to take
something in.
But the ink
I am holding
has other plans.
———————————–
I just want the 
cold breeze,
so I can drop
to my knees
and cover myself 
in snow
——————————--
If I write continuously
till the day I die
Will it only be seen 
as tacky pattern making?
——————————-
Slowly falling, to dream of dreams
——————————--

patted snow, placed upward
and into the conditions they 
are stuck towards
—————————————————--
If I am let down, 
I will see you in the morning
—————————————————-
I am weak and wired with
caffeine.
—————————————————–
my thighs are itching with gravelling gasoline
—————————————————–
If I am down, 
hipped
against the wall,
hopefully I will slide down
and grab hold of my ears
————————————————--
Empty feeling from a hangout that I loved
—————————————————-
Travelling inside, outside
dumping loop
———————————————--
Night falls on conversations 
driven 
by
patience
———————————————-
The quickly drawn boy had
a scrappy erase
——————————————--
Hello automated voice,
can I hug you now?
———————————————-
Split, splat
down
my 
back
to
my
basement
floor
———————————————--
My clothes don’t fit my
heartbroken 
body
——————————————--
Cushioned pills that 
crumble through
lungs
——————————–
Signs with slashes 
and
burnt out
eye lashes
—————————–
Housewives telling their
sons and daughters
to rest so they can
go out and play
with rocks
——————————-
If I cough into my sleeve
the snot and drool will savage
themselves 
and enter 
my nose again
——————————-
The box was never outside; it was sleeping
—————————--
Worrying and sitting in a 
puffed up jacket
to balance my 
puffed up mind,
moving nowhere
—————————--
Bland court hall of winter,
salt and mud.
signs and bad odoor makes
your eyes
ignored
—————————-
bags of fuck you(s) 
and clothes of shut your holes
—————————--
tic tack goes the construction
of a building
soon to be de-constructed
due to the poor construction
——————————–
my own breath goes around
in circles, just like my pattern
of existence
——————————-
seems like we are done talking,
but there is nothing else to do
can we talk a little longer?
___________
Sit and eat, 
mustard stains
and crawl into my
worn bed sheets.
——————————--
big boots, fashion fur, 
mini bags, cell phone accessories
I don’t get it, but I will buy it please.

​

all art pieces for sale are the original versions, i do not make copies.
all rights reserved. elevator boy (c)2015


Email

elevatorboygallery@gmail.com
  • Home
  • About
  • Visual
    • Bottle Rocket Series
    • Explosions In My Head Series (large)
    • Explosions In My Head Series (small)
    • No More Sessions Series
    • Pen Ink Series
    • Tender Tin Series
    • Unfit Series
    • We're All Moving Series
    • Miscellaneous
  • Audio
  • Written
    • Poems 1
    • Short Verses 1
    • Short Verses 2
  • Contact