After all the portraits
Of plasticine corpses you keep
On the passenger side
Contaminate in proportion
To captions reporting
It's certain the worst is behind.
Putrid passion erosion,
Perfume-sprayed devotion,
Leching death in the sexiest,
Fashions passed by a pathogen class
Will exact revenge when
Crucifixion is cliche.
Steady, thorough, received her
In springtime.
The ether hung sweeter than vatican wine.
She split my yolk into segment,
Took them outside and spread 'em,
Buried deeply for me to go find.
An afternoon with a shovel,
She stood watch from the rubble,
Smug delight & a smile on her face.
And with that presence above,
My heart was vanquished with love,
& I realized that I'd dug my own grave.
Heavenward with a hammer,
Gimme grist for the glamor;
Feathers plucked from an angels raw hide.
Prosthetic pulpits do better
In the tropical weather;
Punctuate the most damp or divine.
Oblivion up and left me
With a bunch of unfriendly
Poltergeists in the folds of my mind.
I'm bleeding out through my eyelids,
City streets watch in silence,
They've seen worse
& It ain't the last time.
In the event of the same old death trip,
Walk do not run to the nearest exit.
The wheels on the bus go round & round,
As Happy Land is burning down.
Just cause I feel a little down,
Don't mean I won't be
The first depending on you doubts
To denigrate me.
Your earth is a fickle globe about
Which phantoms orbit.
Your head leaks language through the mouth
It smells like bullshit.
I hate the elements you drown
My fucking earth in.
I'd burn each and every one down,
of this I'm certain.
Still don't consider me a vile
Shit-heel negator.
See, you're entirely my fault.
I'm your creator
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