A Good Old College Try

O tumultuous nature of disillusion,
where is the thirst for life,
for love
for desire
for unabashed passion
for delirious contempt of traditionalism
for desirous mid-afternoon cravings

where is it all hiding?

Open up your wings, your legs,
your lips, your thoughts, your very (fucking) soul!

Wake me up from this fatigue.
Wake me up from this catatonic slumber which has persist'd for the better half of the last decade.
Wake me up! For the hours are long and life is short and that very contradiction can only be solved with your cunt against my mouth and my tongue half way to your lungs.

Destroy me with your truth!
Tell me what makes you tick, what turns you on, what pervades in your subconscious. Open yourself up to me!

Drown me in your dreams. Drown me in your illusions. Drown me in what your perfect tomorrow looks like. Drown me with your juice!

For fuck's sake -- look here, kid: the future is already written, let's imagine something different, and fuck it all up.

I can sit here and pretend that it's all okay, but you said "wait!"

I could've sworn I left the electricity under your mattress.

I could've sworn I left the electricity under your mattress. 

Where is it?

I walked in on you as nostalgia played through the speakers. It hit me with a solidity that reminded me this wasn't permanent.

Allow me (for a moment) to return to the mattress: 

covered in 

fingerprints 

it held your truths. 

Your abysmal sensation.

Where did you leave the fear that once left you crippled and whole? 

I want to wear it as an amulet.

 I want to wear it as 

I wore you once. 

I want to wear it as you wore me 

once.

I have nothing to show for it,

except for longer nails. 

Nature saw that I need a new defense mechanism. 

And this is what it went with. 

What a start! 

What a laugh!

Leave your lipstick where it is, 

but take your pearls. 

They were a present. Not from me. 

Grab me by the throat. 

Choke me until I'm unconscious or horny. 

Choke me until we are fully dressed and

ready to be present'd to the auditorium of nubile paesants and fedora wearers and 

expectant mothers and cross-dressing illiterates.

Let's teach them the lessons they keep forgetting and stop them from repeating the same mistakes.

Hold on to the smoke-screen

Imagin'd only to be the wintry endowment of less than pleasant 

apologies. Leave the winter.

Leave the smudged out and overlooked Truths

on the nightstand. I can sweep the crumbs in the morning. 

Tempt me into a state of near exhaustion. 

Make me have to hold my own head by nightfall. 

Come quickly, then leave. 

An Afternoon Itch

To walk this big prick off
or wait until Nature answers
as a magnanimous whore
would?
"O love! Take me! Fuck me
until the moon is Eternal
and metal turns to gold."

I will fuck until I prove
Alchemy exists
and is real
and is the proper way to invest.

Come to me with your hungry womb
(pause)
Come to me with your engaged hand
(pause)
Come to me and tell me his name tell me what he likes tell me what you like tell me what he tastes like

Come to me and let me make you believe in Godomnipotent
Come to me and make me potent

Quick now, the curtains are rising.

The Esoteric Birds of Praise: A Movement

i.
were there not aggregate
palpable poinsettias ravishing
delicate intricacies of the
befuddled tongues of the
guests at the dinner
party.

where does the time go.

full. stop.

let's concede to the
shadows. let's sacrifice
pretense as though it were
our child
becoming his own
man.

do you hear how
the nightingales
sing in

Greek.


these are not questions.
think of them as melodies.

hum along.

ii.
And in regards to how the light
hits the settled dust,

just don't.

There was an aggressive ferocity
to the manner in which the tea was
prepar'd,
and I can
feel it
on my tongue.
Acidity. Tragedy.
Melancholy.
remember the whistles of
the bluebirds, and
how we laugh'd at
the sound.

iii.
the delegation of underwater
symphonies went
on playing
as the ship swell'd.
what a sunrise!

no hummingbirds were present.