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

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.

...In All Walks Of Life

I ripped out
God's vocal cords
tied them around
my neck
and leaped
from the sky
As I
was falling
the clouds turned
sepia
and rushed into
my nostrils
smothering my organs
making them gasp
for anything
When the
cord snapped
a crimson serpent
slithered up my
forearm
and tightened
before my obsolete body
plummeted
to the callous planet
below

S.A.D.

I have long related
to the cold death of
Autumn
My organs fall
as the shattered leaves do
and the fantasies
of hanging
like an old vine
from a naked tree branch
never seem to leave
on these days
and the leaders
I have followed
for eternity
have drifted away
like the waters of
a creek
and I am left
directionless
as the pollution
within those plodding
waters

Moldy Tangerines

Cold air rushes
through my tangled hair
bounces across
my cracked skin
I smile
for the flash
of moonlight
on the river's
surface
but the metal
on my breath
rots the
enamel
like love
on the brain
(Splattered against
rubber walls)
Blood is
measured in nano litres
now
splattered against childhood
photographs
erases my face
from everything
I laugh
at the black comedy
of twenty five
years
spiraling the vultures
before a tiny splash
of the imploding universe
fills my head
with the beautiful ambiance
of nothing

Anatomy

I don't bleed as much
as I used to
You can only
rip open your arteries
so much
before it loses
its luster
I've spilled
my bodily fluids
on so many people
places
things
friends
they they all
have my disease
We all follow
the setting Sun
praying
that the moon
will blind us
from the inevitable flood
when our intestines erupt
after years
of swallowing razor blades

VIP Tickets To The Pity Party

The insects have been crawling
from my pores
week after week
I flick away an ant
it's replaced by a thousand spiders
When I write my name on the walls
with their insides
all i see is question marks
that make sounds
resembling the howls I once made
when I held my father's rotting hand
in mine
As the guts dry
I embrace it once more
and mouth some words
that could be a condemnation
a hopeful gesture
or gibberish
I fade with the rot
and dream of warmer
years

Gardening With Maurice

On the day I walked

through Eden

where the roses

grew forever

and choked out

the sun

Eve dug her rusted nails

into my jaw

and rammed her foot

through my

ribcage

Then she fell

into a puddle of ash

and was whisked away

with the dodos

and the dinosaurs

It was better

than my first kiss

It was better

than being

God

Mr. Sunshine

Tracing the cracks in my flesh with my tongue

I regurgitate pain

in a rusted pail

sprinkle it over my naked body

Maybe it'll wash away

the graffiti

Maybe it'll make

me sick

I used to worship the sun

as a lover

But I see it's an orange tumor

that keeps growing

and growing

until the blinding ultraviolet

is all

that I know

Fuck You, I'm An Artist, Man!

I built a monument to my failures

using nothing

but the garbage

strewn about

the world

and the rotted wood

over our heads

When I showed it to her

she said “This

is more beautiful

than the raindrops

on my open

grave.”

Then she licked her lips

and tapped my

creation

with her delicate finger

and it toppled

on top of me

and the decay rains on me

to this very day

Black Comedy

The final exclamation point

to 25 years

wasted

my used vessel

twisted into an epitaph

and read by the illiterate

Yes

there were a few crumbs of sunlight

spread throughout the swamp

but

obviously

it wasn't enough to dry the infection

in my arteries

It's just something I got to do myself

I watch the women of the world

spread their legs for paper cuts

while ignoring euphoria

I watch those in power

piss on the poor

and jack off for nuclear orgasm

I watch families torn apart

by magnetic erections

I watch the living get autopsied

by self-appointed surveillance

These things just make it easier

to shove my disease

down God's throat

and laugh as He/She chokes

.

Because we all need to chuckle

sometimes...

An Ode To Big Tobacco

So tired in the intestines of the city

Melted fat falls from my forehead and seeps into the cracks in the cement

Someday my entire body will rip these streets apart

But for now I look at the metal sky and see the sirens reflect

I know they're coming for me

They always have been

A sword materializes in my hand

All pixellated and disjointed

I debate on cutting my scalp open

Giving my brain a massage

But then I think better of it

I light up a cigarette and sit on the pavement

Sword in one hand, smoke in the other

And I wait....

The Redundancy Of Redundancy

I sliced my forearm and bled a rainbow

I hung myself and grew rose petals around my neck

I drank arsenic and pissed out a blue sky

I swallowed a handful of pills and shat out a second sun

I stuck my head in the oven and inhaled morning dew

I injected heroin into my veins and climbed Mount Everest

I shot myself in the head and splattered gold against the wall

I provoked some cops and they shot autumn leaves at me

I jumped off a cliff and fell straight to heaven

I smiled and my face ripped itself in two

If Suicide Were A Coward's Way Out This World Would Be Filled With Ghosts

There will be a brief calm

The hum of a fan

The flicker of a light

Raindrops pause mid fall

Metal will extend from fingertips

Past the tounge and the tonsils

And then a brief silence

Followed by a loud BANG!

And the world resumes

In it's chaotic dreariness

And the organs and bones splattered against the wall

Will be someone else's problem

Nostlagia Is A Cruel Joke

There were times

when we would drink from cyanide rivers

under the burning sky

We would even inhale the fumes

and look at the world through rainbow glass

Now it feels like the colors are broken

and I'm cradling them in my calloused hands

They are too sliced to feel the damp ghosts

of my former ethanol-brothers

and the poison has long left my system

I just want to drown myself one more night

with you

before the sin of the moon

swallows me whole

How A Pacifist Deals With Anger

I have days where

if life were a human

I would punch them in the face

Twice

Then jack off into their black eyes

and scream

“Where's my dinner, bitch?!”

West Virginian Book Of The Dead

One the day I burst through

the guts of a stranger

they snapped my photograph

and put it on wanted posters

hung in strip clubs

where the attractions

throw knives at the ugly picture

and giggle to themselves

Meanwhile

I am chased to the ends of the Earth

by some army

whose soldiers all look like me

So I hide within my skeleton

knees bent to my hardened cheeks

and wait for the red skies

to take me

where I started from