Fragile

My soul

My soul is the most beautiful thing on paper

My soul wants a lover

My soul wants a lover I don’t have to fuck

Jesus Christ, I don’t want to fuck

 

My soulmate

My soulmate is not here on paper

My soulmate is not a lover I have to fuck

Jesus Christ, get over yourself

I don’t want to fuck

 

My soul, baby child

Does not want to fuck your lover

My soul, man

Is not your cadaver to touch

Is not your cadaver to cut

 

My soul is not here for more lovers to fuck

Can I say it any louder?

It is the most beautiful thing on paper!

My soul is in tatters and blown

By all the dicks to suck

 

Soulmate?

I am glad my soulmate is not here

To see me cry

To crave my cunt

My soul is a lover I don’t have to touch

 

Hey you, my soul

My soul is beautiful

Fragile

And fucked enough

Keep your open roses to yourself

Doppelganger, Pt II

I want to consume your shape

Your silhouette

The vignette of the light behind you

A sizable man

I like your shape and

The cartoonish wisp of your hair

I want to consume your hair

And wear it on mine

I want to consume your outline

And if you let me stick around

That’s what I’d do

And what you’d do, too

Because we labor over love

But truly live to consume

I like the shape of you

I want to eat your hair

Satellite 17

Warning: Sleep deprivation may cause hallucination. I was nearing 17; standing in the bathroom at the end of the hall. I had been up for days and likely had not eaten a thing. I was nearing the euphoria a piece of string cheese must feel as it is peeled off for consumption. Unsuspecting, I turned from the mirror to look over my left shoulder and down the darkened hallway. At the end of the tunnel where the last smoky bit of light lingered, the shade of a massive dog stood facing me: starved, lanky, masculine with the pointed ears of a pinscher. Just the one at first – two at a stare. Feminine twin to the first, the second lay on its side at the other’s back haunch. I locked eyes with the space for sockets on the first. I wanted to see it. Animus came forward and in less than four bounds was at the doorway, suspended. The creatures vanished from the gloom. All that remained was null. I would not start or turn away from what could be no more than a drug-fueled mirage.

Those hounds of hell.

Those phantoms black.

One goes forward.

One stays back.

The Exorcism of She

Whatever I eat I have no hunger

Just gut pain

Dilated and constricted all over

Taking and it just keeps going

I keep smoking

High or low

Can't get it out

I can't get it out

It's starving me out

I am in pain!

And the dialogues just keep

Scrolls of them rolling

Noises from the bathroom

No one's home

Distant triggers from real surroundings

Bringers back to life

The orchestra

Eyes prune in sockets

Can't close 'em

What do I need

To be so goddamn awake for anyway?

Water want nothing

I am rabid

Snake Oil Salesman

Traveling laymen fresh from occupation
Occupy the living room
‘For a night or two’
Fourth party
Extra graces
Extractions of oil from the kitchen
Resort to brooding
Curses
The paper-thin walls
Divide us
Musical chair
My bedroom door
I’m out first round
The salesman
Bottled up and stickered with praise
Grunge
I hope
Will aggravate these
Wheels of conversation
My attitude problem
Talk of the saintly feeding of the world
Says you
Throw the recycling in the dumpster
Yeah, I’ll separate that shit
‘What a wonderful town this is!’
The salesman
‘But the oil before I go!
Wouldn’t you like a lifetime supply of snake oil?
Cures all ails.’
Stratocaster
Evening
Oven 
On that bus
Shake these snake charms
I know that
I can tell them I don’t trust them
I know that
I can tell the fertile poison
Occupying
Occupying my living room
‘We have learned nothing but to bottle displacement
We are on islands'
Bridges greasy for the burnin'
The salesman
‘Has hid a bite in this house for safe keeping!
And will be back somewhat soon to take residence!’

The Chaste Tree

Lucid dream
 When I was young they had no faces
Eggs
 Smooth as nog
 Strain to convince
Me or you?
 To run from hurricane fire inside
The walls of that house
 Carry on austere reflection
We are crystallic
All their irises
Black maelstroms
Keep face
 Of course I have known what you are doing
Avoided that gaze
 There are more vital veins I am satisfied
But must I wake you to shake you?
Or is it I who
 Becomes the ascetic?

Paraiah

What would they say of me

Lately

Worse off than this

Anyhow

The sun's gone out

Taking tomorrow for myself

Unwilling to exist

Play part in this

Look me left and up

Here now

No less than prime

Soaked in paint

Dripping in what they say of me

Lately

Tired of waiting on

Pushing paper for honey

And maybe

The pavement will pull them under

Writing to Bauhaus

Havana on ice

Fresh clothes and a spot of gold paint

Whistle with the wind

Left us around the downtown square

I will always drift

Hot sands on Barcelona

Steel string riddle my friends

Swim in the fish

Lean on marshmallow bricks

Fountain drains into my stomach

I am imploding now

The sound of battery town

But a dream

To be green

Toke for you, my love

And let’s pull the stars down

He was the best they ever saw

Not mine but somewhere

Flapping wing

Rain in Rio

Grand tour of the Carnival

Sun stones on her shoulders

To the second party she goes