A Malfunction

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It isn’t morning yet
and I can smell the thick air,
the biochemical warfare
sweeping in, across the Atlantic.
Even the air is stale.
The crackers are beginning to see
we’re way past our expiration date. 

Adding gizmos like limbs.
Privilege has always inspired new growth,
however cancerous to the rest of society it may be.
The abundance dripping down his chin,
the pit regurgitated, sticky, rolling down
his chin, his shirt, and dribbling to the table
like his sack scalped and glossy marbles
slimy sloppy marbles rolling out of the bag
goes squish in my hand.

But they have an app for that too,
there for impotency and eunuchs alike!

 I’d prefer the virtual to the real.
less messy, easier to handle.
Shoot, he’s even nice enough to leave it
in the bedside table when he’s off to work.
That’s when I really get my fun.


They’ve got an app for me too.
I haven’t seen him in three days,
at least I don’t think so,
but these pictures move too much.
I’ve watched him die,
I see him dying,
a malfunction

Addiction

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Isn’t it just like a man?
Sitting, watching the swaying hips
each conniving turn.


She slithers
through the blue cigarette smoke.
I do things differently,
doorways for suckers.
I brace for impact,
through layer after layer
clearing out foundation after foundation
taking years to establish
but moments to dissipate.


She pulls at the meat
twirling it between her fingers
throwing it from her talons
into the air
to her tapered beak.

Could we all be monsters
demon lurking in the night
loitering under street light
looking to the painted faces
and the saber tooth heel?

What could I feed her?
What cherished memories sacrificed
for the next high?

 

 

(I do not support; strongly condemn the type of misogyny in this poetry,(though it is a perspective in society that needs to be addressed) she’s intended to be terrible because of what she represents, NOT because she is a woman.)

Ticonderoga

3262

Engraved

On a Ticonderoga

I reached to the back of my skull

And found the same number engraved

In me

Serendipitous utensils

I know how silly

Love can be

But why not believe,

Yellow slender;

Soul mate.

We are writing utensils

Intertwined

Flowing

Like letting go of a manuscript

In a windstorm

But you hurt me so.

Do I use you?

Or do they use me?

Were you here?

Is your motives for nothing,

But profit?

Is your heart not in it,

The way it once was?

It will feel like years

Until I see you again

But I’ve never loved

Like I love the pen

And once the door closes

I’ll curse your name

Wish the lips never parted

Slithering tongue

The picking of

flesh from bone,

My vulture

My muse

Moving me to new grounds

Where to Find Relief.

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That life

In all its tediousness

All its suffering

With a  white washed brain

And a luxurious

Lobotomy

(Day time television)

It will all end

The thread will split

The engine will run out of gas

In the center of oncoming traffic

I grab the wheel, brace myself

For another reality

At the center

Transcending in blue light

The acceptance of love

Impermanence

I am not bitter

 

The Call of the Wild

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An equilibrium

Between pleasure and pain.

A pros and cons list

I’m running into the dark

Through the cracks

Between teeth

And into the belly

Of the beast.

She yanks my leash

Tethered to her belt

She is a walker of dogs

And I am meant for the wild,

For the freedom in independence,

Individualism

Isolation.

I jump into the abyss

Into the vastness

The sweltering stomach acid

But she still holds me by my leash

Suspended in esophagus

A moment between isolated liberty

And affectionate constraint.

The leash tightens around my throat

Her well to do

Tender noose.

Cumbersome Jewelry

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I liked you better as a picture

Wrapped safely around my neck

In your gold locket

I lie resting through my day

Lying in my silk

Aquarium, fat children

 tapping on the glass

waiting for starvation

to cause my bones to wither

and the skin to tear

than as a charm

pulling me by my wrist

I am alive

But I pray for death

Your mind is perverse

Running through the ways

You can bring me out to sea

My cherished lead bracelet

I try to swim

But I’m drowning

 and I wait on the ocean floor

I’m still drowning.

Loss of Words

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These are the moments

On frost bitten edge

When a pretty face

And a well written word

Asphyxiates

Instead of astounds

When swimming lessons

Make you drown

Falling over each other

With clashing lips

When words

Can’t hurt enough.