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

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....

Cerebral Photography

Awash in an ocean of dark matter

a girl with mountain road curves

protrudes butcher knives

from her wrists

carves a still life of a dying forest in my chest

and tells me

“I will always forget you”

The blood has dried on steel

and the canyons remain

rendering “Art” a misnomer

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

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