Chemical Baptism

The priest wore a suit
on the day he baptized us
in the rivers of
southern Appalachia
and when we came up
our skin blistered
our stomachs imploded
The beauty of chemical religion
God shows love through
dehydration
filth
and he powers our lives
So what if He
made a mistake
and ordered our bodies
to tear themselves
apart
for His love?

Housewives and Hand Grenades

An abortion
30 years too late
sleeps in its grave
under six feet of plastic
and malleable flesh
Yet it is awake
to see the sun burn out
a thousand times
through the eyes of
satellites
Is it not moved?
Is it not amazed?
Neurons flash only
for the achievements
of lustful byproducts
They blanket the planet
like small pox
(pride in greed)
mirror the scars of ancestors
Mistakes breeding mistakes
breeding decades
of nothing
They will never
know how
to use the excitement of death
to offset the
boredom
of life

Colostomy Of Critics

We've gathered in circles
to pelt poetry
with bricks/grenades
and expect swans to
take up shelter
in the morning after
This is not a new thing
Hunger spins
in our DNA
for garbage writing/music/people
we
all
rot
The worst/best kind of life
throwing dynamite
at the dancing bones
Watch them splinter/break/crumble
Such amusement for us
transients/gods
watching burning zeroes shine
like the devine light
on our tattered jackets
and the perfection
mirrored on our
dying eyes/genitals

Gurl

Been a long few months
since your perfect form
became black fog
and drifted away from
my decaying limbs
Now
I'm sifting through this
encyclopedia of cliches
trying to crack the blank
sky
while your lips touch
the heavens
with someone who
(probably)
wouldn't draw his organs
on yours
like I did
How sad that
I'm still writing these
things for you
another worthless
poem
for another
worthless love

I Hate Poetry

I hate poetry
I hate how it
flies just out of
my reach
like a butterfly
with chemical wings
I hate how it
sits in coffee shops
discussing its own greatness
sipping tar
and performing self
proctology
I hate how
it builds walls around itself
so it won't have to see
the bitter sun
or the breathing grass
And I hate how
it left me so abruptly
at the end of
a line
of meaningless letters
with no punctuation
or closure

That Special Someone

The rot that fell from your mouth like semen would have been enough to keep me fed but you pulled it from my reach faster than it took you to spin gold into lies you're a shallow grave for the next generation echoing orgasms of all pitches within as the abortions nailed to the walls cry for your touch

Gravity

When I think of how quickly
you
walked away
from the tactical nuke
that fell on our home
I can feel the weight
of Jupiter
as it plummets on
my ribcage
I could write some kind of
apology
or
plea
with the fragments
it leaves behind
not that you would
read it
not that you would
care
So sad
that these weapons of
mass destruction
and even
the solar system
are falling all around
and all you can do
is smile