there’s a chewed up box of kick knacks left on my train’s brain tracks,
hear the whistle sound off in distance, wind’s resistance depletes with my implied insistence,
light teases at the tunnel like eyelash flutters when flooded with sun’s brilliance,
there’s a chewed up box of thumb tacks left on these diesel heart’s cracks
and the tunnel eye’s now bleedin’ black and not only in appearance.
i’ve milked the sack of every scene,
n’ burned my flesh off every ring,
i’ve jilted faith for coke and stared god’s face down through human smoke,
n’ this time i didn’t choke.
just my misty window view, rain clouds stick to windows too,
our petting zoo’s been abandoned too
drowned whole towns in bathtubs too,
and i bathe now in same ice waters in which i saved a clown, and drowned my lover,
it floats o’er me like crazy. and now i only fuck her like she’s my mother
strange is the change in lane that snaps all rings on routine’s chain,
swoll is a blooming brain spared the pinch of judgment’s pain,
chapped links and unzipped teeth parting walls, swirlin’ down sink,
out the pipes, glazin’ pavements red with rain.
and what of love?
it’s more than twitching, meat in latex glove
and what of hell’s hot waftin’ smoke n’ skulls from heart of cupid’s grill?
poor dope done charred the meat. and that burnin’ glove my nose tastes still
as a frayed child, i once spotted, a blood fanged monkey as it hung loose from braided branch in hollow tree
whether real or thought, factored not in fears nurtured n’ flushed through my viny reeds,
gone by dawn’s good grace was bloody fang monkey, yet no fade for braided branch in tree
still swingin’ low in fated breeze, for me.
this snow blindness suits me fine i guess it’s just the wine, jack we better stick a cork in it before guests hit the floor like last night’s wreckin’ balls licked bricks watch the nesting dolls parade out our front door all smudged in chalk lipstick.
she’s got some wildfire that’s never seen the light of eye,
she’s fought off starving hostiles to find a nook in sardine hostel sty
she’s caught the guards– off guard, gettin’ on it in taped off corner
death row inmates as day’s wank fodder,
makes them sport waxy masks of dead primates, oh wait- don’t bother.
“write what you know!”
nah, just write down what you want and don’t sweat what who does or doesn’t know,
though i know fewer things than i’d dare admit,
heh, ya catch what i just did?
see? i never know which secret’s safe or best hid or dare i admit it?
best part of art is love,. oh! and not givin’ a shit
and i care so little and give so few shits that i wrote a whole dumb poem chewin’ out the subject.
kid rowed his boat down sewer flow past skid row,
no oars, just paddled with hidden hands to Fleet Street bar where six o’clock shadows drink horse piss at high noon,
sold that boat down muddy river and am braced for tired tread home,
but only when this ghost bar sinks into harbor midst a refrain of grateful groans.