remains

Somehow I've mistaken myself for a great perplexity
Somehow I am lost in the labyrinth I built
Somehow I cannot escape the confines of this freedom
Sometimes I want to kill myself
Just so I can let you make art out of my remains

hosanna

he fell through the floor
like he knew he would
slipped into etchings of a straightrazor
he was quickly irrigated
by a sweat of black
trapped under a pile of ashen bodies
given the lungs of a rodent
in the body of a grail
and i swear i saw him glowing
when he held your name in his chest
clad in chalkboard nails
and fits of singing
hosanna,
a shout
hosanna
oh it's true
the son of god is a tree
this is his blood
I drink
this is his body
I eat
this is his word
from the pages of his flesh
and god is not god
so much
as jesus is a man
but god is a disease
a plague of seas
the hematic wash you watch
as you swallow, it turns you inside out
and the horror of sound
like a hell under the guise of music
a neverending crescendo
taking you nowhere
not to be confused with not anywhere
but it should feel so much better
no
no it will not
it is at first claustrophobic
it will not be so bad
but you implode
you continue to implode
and you fade from cognizance
you have lost your only chance
you have fallen through the floor
and grasping lose the door
it gets
smaller
and
smaller
and
smaller

Innocuous Virtues

I'm not spineless, I'm spiny
Faking delusions of grandeur
While my mind is tiny
Even though my temple is a door
and
I coat my esophagus with honey sometimes
Like a sarcophagus for bees
Expecting to choke hard enough
To swallow my throat
and
That's why I never say hello
and
That's why I never tell you how beautiful you are
and
That's why I never forgive myself
Because I do these foolish things
to myself
and
I don't know why

Have you ever looked in the mirror
To find unfamiliar eyes?

And as I pondered metaphorical imprisonment
From a privileged meager slipping away
I saw through an obscuring glass
A few futures past while I dichotomized
Into a crumbling Janus for Ganesha
To spit a peanut in my eye -
Only he looked more like Babar -
And I found the meaning of life
In a Robert Frost poem

And I sat up all hours in a room without windows
Crying myself to death thinking about never living again -
No sun, no moon -
And what's it like to have freedom or other such words
Becoming tangible and within reach

We all want freedom from this body
That sees everything we do,
And keeps all our secrets that make us human,
But we can't see it if we lose touch
and
We always do
and
That's why I'm having trouble remembering you
Because I never let you in too close
and
That's why I'm so afraid
and
That's why I don't jump at the dangling pome -
Fleshy false fruit -
and
That's why I'm going hungry
Even though I'm a glutton
and
Six other innocuous virtues
Pertain

mondegreen

"Pax Americana infidelis"
I think we can all concur.
To hell with vicarious mass murder!
I led the pigeons to the fucking flag...
And they shit themselves, worshipped it,
Were diseases with beaks, and so for weeks they shot up heroin
And snorted mountains of blow
Until we waves crashed into the sides of a glass.
The world is flat and that's a fact:
Cling or fall off.
Just try to drift - you won't last with raging bellies sewn on.
Catch-22 replaces dragons slain,
Producing Gordian Knots in our throat -
Alexander claims he can cut them,
By inventing more of the same war.
They thought they had us firmly in their hands,
But all they have is a 200 plus year lie
And a mound of clocks.
So Bentham laid the groundwork, so the world
Was compressed and fitted into a box behind a screen.
Suddenly the one way window loses its sheen.
I prefer the mondegreen.

Charmed by the Snake

I was the composition,
You were the Grand Cross,
The night a burlap sack over my head.
I poured all my energies out,
Sloshing like a mop in a bucket; you,
The highest order planetary alignment,
For but a second decomposed me.
So once more I eavesdropped on sleeptalking gods.

After every meal I have milk with dessert,
And, having left it on my desk,
It turns fast.

[Dreams of wool, paint blotches, and abrupt abstract masses]

I rasped through gritted teeth,
My mind waiting in the backseat
Ripped apart by blue blue red black so black you couldn't see them.
Fuck! Goddamn it I can't breathe! What the fuck?!

[Dreams of lambs leading the shepherds]

How are you feeling? Sorry to hear it.

[Being charmed by the snake]
I sat in the coarsely interwoven memories,
Beholding the pome of your body.
It's all I can... about....

I'm the shit hitting the fan.

[Rising above only to pop like a bubble at the surface]

...and suddenly, you stopped breathing...

[Here in the trunk they locked me in]


Please spare me your unfortunate tragedies,
I have a legacy to attend to.

Break a Leg

Up on stage, podium prepared,
Got fresh cut hair,
They're holding up their hands under no tarp.
Your gut with a big bang blows all the chunks
Of the children you brought home,
Sexed up and wasted,
Carved up and tasted,
Basted and stripped with teeth their flesh and muscles
From such opalescent bones.
Break a leg, play with your tie, fix your collar,
Smile,
There's nothing caught in your teeth.
Speak, and they all hear.

A few more left clicks for limp dicks,
Download your fantasy.
Jack off before you shake everyone's hand.
Let's praise this man,
Whose closet is bursting with skeletons.
Hallelujah.

legacy

I heard the pain in every string of notes piling on the fear of impending death.
I saw him perspire blood, squint in no bright light, weep without tears.
Choking back nothing, choked back by never living again -
Can any means justify this end?
To have a legacy, screaming all the way, unnerving crescendos snagged on unready minds...
Is tantamount to building it.