The More I Understand (The Less I Want To)

Poetry by Daniel Janini

The More I Understand (The Less I Want To), or the Mind That Knows Itself

An inordinate amount of physic processes, And the only thing thats sitting in the driver seat Is a multitude of numbers; probabilities. A coffin in cacophonous complexity. Reticulate activity; theres no emergent me

Hyperballad

Im sorry for waking you from your nap on the floor, Its just that I kept staring at the long, slender knife You left on the table after cutting your apple; Pulp and skin still left on the blade. I couldnt stop imagining The tight grip of the handle in my palm And piercing myself, Sheathing the blade between my rib bones, Or what my tongue would feel like Tasting that sweet pulp then rust. It only takes a second

Disarmed

I unearthed animosity, Animating paranoia.

Too many corpses lie beneath Like nausea in the gut Anxious for exposure.

No more stimuli, please, Before I make myself sick.

Inadequacies

Baby face Bony breastbone Lack of attraction Grappling grasps Painful penetration

You Make Me Nervous Again

Back to counting down from ten I switch from lips to tongue in bed

Basketballs thrown with both hands I overshoot the beer pong cups

Starbucks Creep Show Taught shirt on shoulder blades Guide my hands under As your beard lightly scratches

Walking in Chicago Then my head on your chest In a modest apartment With shelves of records and books And fresh food in the fridge