I amp
myself, searching for ashes, like drunk off of neglect. sore penalty, doors
slammed, cigarettes lit. foggy problems, clogged arteries, eating neckbones.
such soul food, drowned in sodium, like crazy how I treat my heart. gunning
into lights, screaming at moons, guzzling something exotic. an erotic piece,
Love is sick, like gone on her feelings.
wearing
something tight, a white t-shirt, a brand-new watch—a cross at it. I see them
bouncing, I nod, grip a fist, keep it moving. I see them tripping, like
maniacs, over something came into existence. blues, jazz, blue grass lyrics; at
craps, laughing a little, keep it balanced.
rushing
at her, asking questions, really quick, “Let’s go.” anything but, “Yes,” I drift,
“It was nice to meet you.” it took years to be noticed, let soul speak, it took
years to love self. many do dirty, with no regret, like it’s normal.
I blazed
sticks, I now do liquor, it’s been something for a long time. Love weaved-out,
nails done, toes with pedicure—running around in bikinis, giggling for no
reason, thicker than a widescreen. I laughed a little, it’s getting better,
like a hyena on Prozac.
paying
to exist, bills keep coming, amazed that so many stand in opposition. some see
it coming, see it chancing, really in disapproval—the invisible man, an
invisible judge, in an invisible arena. eating steak, eating onions, please
keep it grilled: mushrooms, gravy, mother’s portrait.
take
as they have, kill as they will, immortal as I was. the mouse is possessed, the author is
possessed, the pain has a lifeline; the skies are possessed, the homy is a
magician, the deals are for souls; Cali is possessed the doctor is a mystic the
angst in atop the roof—screaming, trying entrance, the dentist is a machine—so gorgeous,
so quiet, like destroy me!
they
call it streaming, for one reason, the mind is bending—if to fathom the summer;
demon time, like darkness chimes, I ate the damn ingredient—so sick, southern
flights, like every person a manic; so irregular, so present, can they see
me? hurting his neck, scarring
his wrists, like a platinum noose.
Love
is sick with it, a gorgeous ass woman, I never said shit. I deal with respect, I
laugh at points, I say, “Thank you,” I get ghosted. like a damn computer, I remember each
line, I used to repeat sentences inside. call it, talking shit, or call it,
our damn pain, so fricking flamboyant.
we
never had much, shooting dice, crossed, disrespected, nobody expects
retaliation. unsaid purgatory, can’t articulate it, like a panther running to
the grave. go deeper!!!
