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

The Warmth Of Bridges Set Ablaze

I find it adorable when
you carve your opinions
into the clouds
and expect people
to record the spectacle
and use it as
pornagraphy
as if you were more
than just suburban skin
All those blank picket signs
you keep around
"just in case"
I pissed the letters
W
A
R
on them
so you'll be honest
for a single moment
You
of outdated fame
with the idiot dodo
nesting in your hair
carving break up letters
into your thighs
then smiling
with the blood in your teeth
will one day reach for
the hand that gives gold
to every passerby
and pray it will touch you
as if
it could ever relate to
you

A Romantic Evening In The I.C.U.

When we ignited this
body of concrete
and fluorescent lights
we didn't strike the match
in a shroud of fraud
or as an
act of revolution
No
we only did it
to light up
the flash
in our eyes
and to dance in the ash
We thought the flames would
extend to the heavens
and send it collapsing
at our feet
but they just died
in a thosand mile downpour
of tears
that left us crawling
sick
to any sign of life
but our own

A Parable For Sodomites And People Who Sleep With Their Sisters

This is a piece I wrote back in 2010 that I feel is more relevant now with the Phil Robertson / Duck Dynasty situation.

Adam and Steve used to walk down to the reservoir and fuck behind the waterfall to hide their love. One day they saw Jesus, his leg trapped under a boulder. They used their limited strength to push it into the sea, sealing the waterfall forever. Our Savior gave them each a kiss and promised the star-struck lovers entrance into Heaven. A few weeks later some rednecks caught them making love and hung their dainty bodies from an oak tree overlooking the reservoir. Three months passed and a tornado ravished the inbreds' trailer park; ripping their obese, snuff spit-drenched bodies to bits. Now Adam and Steve sip wine coolers with God while the heathens get sodomized in Hell.

Punctuation Is For Pussies And Sane People

When you asked me to slow dance in the twilight of all the world's detonated nuclear warheads I wasn't expecting the dance floor to disintegrate under your every step and I wasn't expecting the music to be replaced by the cries of children with corroded skin and I wasn't expecting you to kiss me as your body turned to black smoke and crawled deep into the crevices of my lungs.

Mechanic

All the things you
could never teach me
fall from me
like so many
angels
I've spent years
carving your face
into mine
with your old
rusted knives
and it doesn't hurt
any less
now
and it never will
The only thing I
have ever wanted
truly
is for you
to save me
from every
molecule
and for you
to hug me
and tell me
that I am worth so much more
than the rot
growing
on my heart
all these years
without you

What A Drag

I've been
dragging this corpse behind me
for so long that
I don't even remember
what it looked like
or why
I'm even pulling it
Maybe
I'm looking for
a place
to bury it
or maybe
this is just
what my purpose in life is
The only things I know
are the rot
that has permanently etched itself
into my nostrils
and the lingering taste
of apocalypse
on my crumbling tongue

Disease

The Old Child
bandages a few cuts
on his thigh
before a grenade
detonates
in his guts
He places his hands
over the gushing hole
as He saunters
across concrete
forest
plains
ice
and ash
while His injuries
trail behind him
like a lost
child
When He finally reaches
the desert
He is reduced to a
glacial crawl
a highway of blood
stretched for miles
behind Him
Before He dies
a serpent slithers
across His outstretched
stained hands
and wraps itself
around The Old Child's
chest
gives Him the deepest kiss
He ever knew
and whispered
"Fate Is God"

Support?

I always have to roll my eyes when they tell us that the camouflage toddlers are fighting for our free will when we've been swimming in bullet proof rivers for years while they follow the twisted vision of dead gods and their pederast uncle.

Organ

My opinion is more sacred than yours. Mine has been proven with research and is backed by people more intelligent than both of us. Throw those written words to the rats along with your proof and common law. Conspiracy is fact. God in 1080p.

Decoming

It's been a long time coming
As humanity turns
into piles of pink
sludge
before my eyes
they'll speak
in grunts
and beeps
like rusted nails
into my ears
And the air
will become water
And the water
will become magma
And I
will no longer belong here
I
will launch myself
into whatever lies
beyond
and whether it is
filled with perfect days
or decomposing like rats
it's got to be better
then what is becoming
now

Equality

I was sitting in my therapist's office, looking at all the fading spirits who were waiting for a hand to run through their tattered hair and a voice to reassure them of some relief in this burning existence, when I began to wonder what brought us all here: Muscle-straining loneliness, addiction to Hell, the ghost of love, the broken organs resulting from poverty, the murder of childhood...

This planet is twisted, truely

Then I began to calculate the negativity trapped in this room. Everything our brains hold could break through our skulls one day and boil under the heat of existence. The world would suffocate in that stream, reaching for whatever we are trying to grasp now.

As well it should...

Shedding Limbs

People can be so hateful and odd, sticking their heads into your life as they prey a target appears on their head. I refuse to take aim. They'll see you in an open grave and be all too willing to dig it deeper with a smile.

These people do not deserve friendship or even enemies. What they do need is the feeling of a complete void. You know, the same thing they're opening up within you. Maybe it will come. Maybe not. Christ it hurts. Friendship burned and then pissed on.

Cut them away like gangrenous limbs.

No More Memories

We deserve
nothing more
than to be buried
under 2000 feet of
nuclear winter
where each flake
resembles
our disgusting uniqueness
And we deserve
nothing more
then to have our
accomplishments
carved in those graves
Assault weapons
hanging trees
bent bodies
bloodied chambers
brandished crosses
in front of our dead eyes
forever
Yet we deserve
nothing less
than to be loved
the way that God
loved Job