Sunday, January 10, 2016

The shredding







The shredding

She’s on the lamppost
Failing to scale the poll I left behind
We’re in line down the john
Golden toilets lined up by the bar
I watch you watch her watch you wishing you would just watch her
I was her
And all those people with their backsides displayed for me
I fight against the corner of juke box machines
We were once a symbiotic trampoline
Our smiles were one jump in the same
Now their smile is for your eyes only
I feel the fabric of my diaphragm shred apart
It’s wooly, dark broange paisley,
I watch you watch her watch you wishing you would just watch her
I was her
Indigestible
The tatters glob between my glabella
Fragments of my silver wolf stare,
Staring you down from across that john,
Calling on your invitation to intrusion,
Your security devices and neglected booby traps
A teenager with too much broken glass on his bedroom floor
You see inside my mind, a film reel I hide behind these wolf eyes
I tell her you’re a sentient dildo,
Knee your insides to the backside,
And scale the woman to the holy ground
That magnifies disgrace.
I Find the place of the infinite where shredding only means perceived particulates
When at we are part of an organismic unit.
I watch you watch her watch you wishing you would just watch her
I was her
But instead, I am
The tear of melted cigerettes
Clinging to granulated cement
From the constricted tube you pull your insides through
My grief is bound and gagged
Pushed into wall paper maps in your beach house
Where you take my lost friends on vacation,
Spattering me at your mercy.
Regurgitating ideas of hatred
I remember fondness in a black and white motif,
A sentimental artifact I wish I didn’t dream of
smashing to your windpipe.
Cruel bastards the act I pray I don’t think
Vandalizing my affections
My exorcism of your discomfort
That stuffs my chest for the thanksgiving turkey.
Ripping your tack plaid buttons down your adolescent chest
Where you can see me, the tattered clothes line
Forgotten in the storm
And hear the fuzzy interception
When I call into the radio with a special request
admit you’re touchless automatic,
trespassing through backyards
the fastest route to nowhere
stick shift, a calm voice, a prayer from my insides to yours
shouting upstream
I'm stuck at a green light
 

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