POEMS

ABOUT
NOTHING IN
PARTICULAR
NOW
by c.w. cheng
it’s absolutely fucked
muscle confusion
bring it on, dickhead
kyc ltk mmm
wtf is this feeling
a light
maybe
andy bought a car
demon black hole
egg
dregs & 223
pissy
command, control, comfort, confusion
the great art debacle
jar based karate
i’m a pro
the plight of the bargain bin bandits
coold
dtf
demon bastard son
quepie kolly
bangs
radio silence
the end of thomas chan
partner
abject astrology
it’s absolutely fucked

you ever listen to music that just disorients you?

picks you up and judo throws you into a loop?

a pretty melody can be disturbing, distracting even

i mean, it’s absolutely fucked

i mean, how do you even get into IDM?

this summer, i watched my friend karate kick a punching bag

hanging from the ceiling,
linearly oscillating back and forth, to and fro
like the sandbag from super smash bros.
except hanging, almost haphazardly, from chains, hanging from the ceiling
the whole process involved a carabiner or two

and i wasn’t sure if his legs were well built

but i’m sure now
muscle confusion

i couldn’t do a lay-up even if i wanted to

but i’m sure if i absolutely wanted to
i could do several lay-ups
probably many in fast succession

like a lay-up doing machine

upping day in and day out
“like a lay-up doing machine”
they’d say

you have to switch up your reps and sets

and lift different weights, do different lifts
switching very often
“you get better gains if you confuse your muscles”

but i could never dribble a ball

just picture me double dribbling
all over the goddamn place
muscle confusion

bring it on, dickhead

come up, shut up and feel the noise box underneath your spine
pretend to die, then hide, hide your change in the glove box underneath the other, other
glove box

and sometimes you just feel lonely, you know?

doesn’t mean you can use that an excuse to bring it on, dickhead

“no, people. let’s be smart and bring it off.”

kyc ltk mmm

i can’t believe your music taste

cooler than mine, no joke, cokehead
sheets flying up and down and off the bed, makes hasty music and heat rising,
sighing in and out my throathead

or do they call that the larynx…?

the many multifaceted mega men may make my match,

seem microscopically minuscule in comparison

seeming so, so sadly some sunny shall see

so sullen and silent a soul, sees singles seeking silhouettes since seventeen
she’s shown screens, senses a single sharp sound, to show satisfactory service shots

suddenly shown such sights and sounds,

smooth sailing sailor

she squeezes sauce such as sriracha squirt splashing submarine sandwiches,

someway saturday to sunday

but she sulks when she’s sad

wtf is this feeling

i’m at the library, and

i’m so horny my heart hurts

my heart is horny
what the fuck is this feeling?

“are you craving love and affection?”

“do u mean to say ur lonely and want love?"

“the only thing I developed during my teenage years is anxiety and depression.”
a light

at the end of the tunnel

everything’s the same

don’t say i didn’t tell you

but i told you so

maybe

just maybe
you can make this work

andy bought a car

he went and done did it,

the absolute mad man

andy bought a car, an old new car

with heated interiors
demon black hole

lie in the hole about

lying to stay afloat could only tire you out
the skid, the skid affects me so, so
much

more so, the hole, the hole, expanding

demon-like, the likeness akin to liking
so i roll up my sleeve to cool off

and cool, cool could only be

my goal, to go, goalie
i’m fat, but cool, role’s goalie is me
rollie pollie olie

i think i cannot think no more of it

i think i cannot think no more of it

i think i cannot think no more of it, of it

i think i did a bad, bad, bad, bad try
the goal’s already filled, the post is bent
and angelina jolie said, “hey sad man”

she failed the demon black hole

i am the demon black hole
so therefore jolie failed me
the inadequate, the goalie

egg

surprise, surprise: the egg is a lie

surprise, egghead
dregs & 223

dresses are the flowing mantis of the night sky

i love it, and i want to buy stocks in it
i want to sink my teeth in it

an animal walked past my view

and society is nil, pulls my brain out of my skull
still in view, but blurred to obscurity

i’ve already forgotten your voice

pissy

i don’t think i’ll ever understand how airplanes work

doesn’t mean i have to get pissy about it

and where the beer from the tap is kept

when asked, the pissy bartender’s eyes
size you down and up and down and up again
as an unattractive dot

you’re so lost,
maybe you can get pissy about this!
command, control, comfort, confusion

i remember your hand in my sleeve

and how it swayed me into total solitude

and oh how, i wish i lived in a very warm cocoon

where we could spend the rest of summer, maybe
in the hyperbolic time chamber

your hand in my sleeve,

i remember how it wore me down into powdered sugar
at night where i’d break down and cry when it was the right time to cry
and imagined all the men who pretended to forget about things like this

and oh now, my ligaments are torn between left and right

how do some people command smoke machines to keep things out of sight?
between obstacles that grow beyond my command, control, confusion

asshole

the great art debacle

the great art debacle, an ad hominem attack at the core

“i can’t believe they sent in the army”

so i find it so hard to get out of my bed these days

jar based karate

supreme that she spends somedays

still stuck in bed
commanding, controlling in sifting the sands,
yet still reads her karate book at karaoke this week

seems my neck is permanently crooked now

due to sheer, sheer weight
and it’s just the most dumb, the most lazy, ultimate bitch imaginable

i’m a pro

thanks for all the handsome memories, from all the men around the town
enjoying the company of others, people holding hands and learning to loving and sharing
but do not ever shove.

i know it, i know it, i know it to be true and truly truer than the truest thing to trade
the truest true truest thing to take

the taoists have the skinheads, but i don’t want any skinheads
and the amish have their produce, but i’d rather be a pro skater, dude
i’m a pro, dude
in all ways

i’ve always been one

cancer

really i think i’m a cancer more than ever these days,

these days, i really am a cancer
more ever than, so

sometimes i do things in threes to please, for three’s the magic number

easy come always leads to uneasy, easy go

ghost the patio, roast beast, you hear what dark meat causes these days?

karate chops her way to victory, a stain of brown girl with redhead worship
calls the complexity of complex.com, a sin for all humanity during teatime

command but cannot control, nor congratulate as toll goes the bell and bush goes to hell,
a place on earth
say i, as i cough into my sleeve

the plight of the bargain bin bandits

fart jokes are what canadians are most, most known for
aren’t you proud of that?

you know i’m a man who can wonder in seventy-seven different colours
and you know what’s wrong with that?

hear the birds chirping above cupid’s meadow during the odd daylight hours
on a sunday, i go to church sometimes between work and play, times the five i pay
to renovate this homely junk-hole mess of a place, indecently hiding away, five dollars
they’d pay

to run, run away

so fucking gay
coold

i wonder if god snores

and if god’s girlfriend gets pissed
and buys god one of those nostril clip things for snorers

seasons change,
he knows that, doesn’t he?
colder climates bring dryer air brings rawer noses

it’s odd to just feel old, just to this extent

learn to live, why don’t you?

stupid idiot

dtf

the creep herder goes out to sunday brunch

only pays for the eggs
chews with his jaw wide open
drives a zipcar

says some shit like

“are you one with the ember?
said the wolfman to he?”

the brave grassman eats sunday breakfast

imagining how it must feel to have no desire

(shouts out world religions)

demon bastard son

none of us asked to be spawned into this mess

(i probably loaded into a bad seed)
i think somedays, i wish i couldn’t think
(at all times, like sun shooting in through ceiling skylight of my dream home)

two kids and a wife, a kiss goodnight

with six seasons and a movie

self-destructive thoughts enter through pores in the skeleton bones,

and the demon bastard son experiences:
megalomania, fear of abandonment, death threats

(where all thoughts are suicidal to a degree)

quepie kolly

jumping around from platform to platform,

he counts sheep when he’s feeling bored
(all the time, usually)

shuffling playing cards to ward off unlucky vibes

aces are lucky but black suits are a bad omen, maybe

and he’ll view playthroughs to make sure he gets it right

diamond pickaxe

i go camping twice a year to remind myself that i’m only human

and that i’m really, really trying my best
to be all that i can be

i eat healthy once a month to reinvigorate my bowels

it isn’t an easy job being me

i hop off occasionally at bloor-yonge station

and take line 2 all the way west

i’m not a man but a semblance of a speck of a man

with shuttle buses available at st. claire station
fuck!

bangs

i love your bangs

they frame your face really well, you know?
and they tussle in the wind sometimes

you never liked that

radio silence

come on, man

just fucking hit me up
the end of thomas chan

subway delays fuck me up sometimes because i can’t really handle the stress of being
around two minutes later than i had meticulously planned for

you see,
i had meticulously planned the beginning of this day when i had woken up cold and
clammy under the worn sheets of my twin bed

it was 12:10 pm,

and i felt as if i was running incredibly late even though i was only slightly behind schedule

i need water, “oh worm?”

water me, brother

you know the little machine inside your skull that manages your consciousness and
perception and what not?
i feel like mine needs an oil change about right now,
i’m having this thought right now, but it’s probably long overdue

i’m even wondering if the moon is in retrograde right now,

(as a scorpio that could really desync my astral alignments, bro)

a hole ripped in the crotch area of my favourite pair of black pants about a week ago now,
and i’m a bit early to my appointment

so right now, i’m really not sure what my life is going to look like from this point onwards

even blinking expends too much energy,

but my eyes are so fucking dry
partner

sunlight has the surprisingly adverse effect of sucking my soul right out of my body
like, “there she goes!”

but it’s somehow cold, and if i believe hard enough i might be able to make my moustache
grow into that little area in the centre of my upper lip
where my moustache does not usually grow
“grow, motherfucker! just do it!”

what i think i should do (what the internet tells me to do)

is that i should lift more heavy objects

i fell in love once and the hairs on my legs grew long

my legs resembled a low-level forest
but more accurately, a mildly hairy man

my unkempt hair irritates my forehead when the clouds move in

and i like that spring wind

i’ll ask,
“how are you doing, partner?”

abject astrology

astroworld? a phenomenal piece of psychedelic hip-hop, says he, the walking pabst

mouth agasp, set against dull browns and turpentine smells last cast in the late aughts
once autumn passed

amongst foul gas, the shell shocked egg is summer simulcast on the screens best last used
for porno praxis,

happiness, alas, in the words of allen, is:

"in the eyes of a shaman, not south african but seems fat again from minced-minx-meat
sandwiches"
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

c.w. cheng is a pseudonym

this is the last one of these, probably
thanks for reading but i’m not enjoying this anymore