the road to hell is paved vol 4

brothers

we can be closer
with each new brutal realization
our agonies bind us
and there is comfort in the revelation
of experience

each new dawn we go the machines
hopeful of change
the end of the drudgery

this earth is the lasting battle
there are no winners
yet soon,
there will be sleep
in the long stretching veil
peace in endless night
our final moment
to rid the mortal coil
the cutting of our noose




the factory job

swinging doors
explosions in Spanish
never a subdued moment
sexy (las bonitas) crimson queens
eyes that hold mine
smiles of veiled lust
shiftyseductive
tousled hair and bronze skin
irreproducible beauty





chemicals

then i developed a bad complexion
and caught myself trying to shave my eyes
what a gem of contemplation





new beginnings

all the old rituals are waving goodbye
the sense we can make of the world
dulled
slower to think and act
while we propagate our demise
evolve and pass to the perimeter
of society
and its still, green ocean
full of television wars
news broadcasts
lessons for the new morality





get out

let’s carry ourselves away
the skin of our teeth
the rotting moment
after the darkest hour
outside, the apocalypse
drowning in bodies too small
brains too large
who'd have thought
we could be taught to run circles
'round ourselves?
in the staggering stillness
after door slamming
gunshot
the amplified click of the telephone
the oncoming collision
we wait
for lives to unfold






winter

my intentions are weaving themselves
thinner and thinner
harsh realities loom consistent
covering the sun
january, february,
some good tidings, please
this winter has claws
i shred before my very eyes






history

time is slowly drawing up the seeking net
we run so many circles
to avoid the dark embrace
at seven
he wished to suicide
the devil stopped him
at nine
he wanted to fuck
the angel at sixteen broke him
at twenty two
he wanted to fly
then reality walked in
they exchanged frowns
loathing each spaced moment





lovers

they're all saying goodbye
to the sad eyes and troubled looks
to the time it took to right the wrongs
the unbalance, the feel of dying time
the momentous shaking spasmic rush of the lust
"i love you because i want to fuck you."
it’s all the same dance
men or women
create the same loathing
i’m as rotten as the world
the green infections spread
with everyone dying of the same disease
greed, envy, lust, doubt
we're all dying as slowly as the day
our own ways
with our own reasons
you can turn back, and come again
but all the whispering roads bring no peace
it is lost in its empty asylum
while people get obscene
on television death,
teenage fuck bombshell whores
that promise the world and
lie
on their backs
in sweet whispers
enchanting, killing hole
you’ve eyed me again






family confusion

thoughts like shifting seas
ride the rhyme
the funeral procession's begun
lying in wait
unclear memories
unclear feelings
muddy situations
blackened love mixes with old hatred
we all churn and dance together
getting burned
damned
all named for one another

sickly lurching family,
whose silence do you mourn the most?
mine?
or yours?






one

every philosophy is
man dreaming the truth
whether, junkie
or yogi
bodhisattva
or psychedelic
we dream our self-law
our self-life
unconscious directions
to the flow of our existence






trap

half dawn with dung mushrooms
dreaming awake
violent fantasy
wicked carnal sex
'always watch the woman's orgasm'
become one to the howling peak
of desire
then, pause for speech
'need a rest?'
"don't stop"
once a day i fuck her
or once a week if she gets sore
i told her i studied tantra
it was enough
to take her virgin mask
and display the snake underneath






greedy eye

stay awake with the cocaine words
opium time
slow fractal memories
watching the weekend wane
without a shot in the dark
sex with fitness
the next great drug passion
the virgin whore we all dream
the knight untouched for her to scar
the lady in distress
needing to feel like a woman
the endless greed we suffer
for want of close lust.
engulfing





eviction

in a land where lunacy grows on trees
and mad little boys rule the world
i compose
a lonely household
rambling statues of memory pass before lidded eyes
lying in a cold room masturbating fear away
to an endless porno drone
"did you know i can unhinge my jaw?"
rented space
cluttered with rented dreams
but they can’t evict you from hope
no matter how torn open you are
or how much rent you owe;

the eternal things are at rest
composed in death
singing their twilight tune
to block out the reasons
and we are all what we all are
no amount of jerking off can bring that back
torn notions and catastrophic rhyme
rubbing shattered glass in an open wound of time
the meanings are all false
and bewildered
lost shadows chasing sunlight






waiting

all this adolescence
made me black inside
went a bit mad
started wondering why
all; turned in
curled arachnid legs
a legacy of loss
we remind ourselves
never letting slip
the deep press of horror
the sweating run
beginning again and again
keep looking for a way out
the setting sun day
the final eclipse





two

"Joe???"
i heard her petulant whine coming from the bedroom
"yes?"
"will you massage my back?"
"sure, just a minute"
i climb off of the couch and walk to the bedroom door
there are small rustling sounds of covers and clothing
i remember for one sweet moment, her arched back,
perfect breasts and wish that all the fire i knew for her was real.
i turn the knob and step in, she swivels her head to face me
"you have big feet" she says
"it’s not so bad" i tell her
she’s wearing black and white striped panties, like old prison clothes
i hop on the bed and roll her over, straddling her butt so i can’t see them
or her bare breasts.
"just your back?" i ask
"will you do my butt too?"
"sure"
i begin to knead, lightly at first and growing steadily more intense as my palms find the knots in her muscles, spasms from dehydration and a fluctuating methadone dose.
"is that enough pressure?"
"mmm"
she twists and moans throughout the procedure, half wailing,
"it’s better than sex!"
but she doesn’t know that, for sure.
i keep my erection to myself, much to my own displeasure.
once her back and buttocks are warm and loose i dismount,
putting my shoes on and arranging myself.
she says, "thank you Joe, that was wonderful."
then smiles at me with her child’s face and perfect brown eyes.
i think, 'i love you, but i can’t fuck it up by wanting you this much'
i swallow all of it and say, "you're beautiful"
she says, "it’s not so bad"
i take a mental snapshot, turn and close the door behind me.
back in the living room, my girlfriend is smiling through her scowl,
grinding her teeth
"i want to get out of here NOW. are you hungry?"
"sure, but it’s not so bad" i say
she purses her lips white, then,
"what do you have in mind?"
"nothing particular"





post no bills

notes in my head state
"attack as needed"
these sore and biting thoughts
i wish them gone when they
will not end
and beg for their return
when my mind sits silent
ahh- for more razors
to run across the edge of my psyche
talentless and timeless
these black rolling madness clouds
are my damnation
and salvation





airport sunrise

it is the deep end of morning
blue-black sky and sodium lights
meld into one free discharge
there is nothing else beyond the window
even the wind is silent, waiting.
like a child who needs lifted
to be able to see,
the sun lurks, straining to peer
over the edge of the dawn






voices of the winter

in winter
the wind sweeps the snow
silvery ghost tongues
raking the asphalt
carrying our ancestors voices
the weeping of the long dead
crystallized
whipped and dragged
voice after voice
lament over lament
twining and curling
a cacophony of whispers
for the ancient summer
and the far off spring






insecure days

the black cat and the fifteen year old disregard me for my strangeness
the girl with the crooked nose love me so hard i want to cry,
but i can’t appreciate her reasons.
mind is filled with pictures of women so beautiful that scorn my passing
am i ugly? is it my clothes? my eyes?
or just an inability to speak?
i am so old i have no pick up lines, no confidence
always beating myself with what i believe i do not have
lost in the awkward house
my compatriot upstairs next to the matron
embraced and warm, at least
with me as baggage
broke
no will to work
all these drugs,
yet, no music.
there were three chords tonight
but never black enough to suit my mood
when i want the smooth surface of the bottom
strummed out, picked out
notes so awful
("i want, i want, i want" petulance song)
to make it bleak
blank
black
lost in despair
like me





sweet dissatisfaction

white lights swirling on black glass
wondering
remembering
the fucking doesn’t affect
it’s just me and they know it
horrible ecstasies of wanting
virgin fires
tight holes, black like midnight
hell has overrun me again
only to be left gesturing
calling for us to join
the fire of clock ticking
of year passing
of death writing
note after note
singing despair
the first wave of intoxication
sweeps me over
left wanting a better mind
cleaner visions to jot
for the mass consumption
stomachs to taste the fillets of my life





speculation through the haze

a choked out silence
a vagrant crying
lost in the wilderness of his own mind
some thing to ease the pain of living
a monster of pills
drugs to heighten awareness
and pull away the world
like staring at ants through a magnifying glass
with room for judgment
in between
the eye and the glass
the haze and the world
our endless dance
despair growing roots from our feet
to slow
or end
this wild racing
after the dream





life begins with leaving

reality is dust clinging to concrete
silent windless prayres
sung in tobacco voices at two and three
carousel of my childhood
divine indeed





the hours keep tickin' down

got a razor in my pocket to shave off my fear
the squirming in my guts is so loud now
like i was getting married in a few hours
tired, like, soul exhausted
a blue ball of doubt
wish i could deafen myself
put out my right eye
start cursing and never stop
bring my focus down
a pixel wide
all these fucking angles are hurting my eyes






hey!

someone wakened me from an impotent dream
somewhere on the way to happiness.
i lost my faith
set fire to my heart
with hate and kerosene
burned my whole world to the foundation
erased everything but the outline
limbered up and started again
my way
fucking MY WAY
my way or the highway, bitch
shut up and get out
"you need some faith" she said
maybe if she hadn’t told the truth
i'd have changed my mind





self hatred

underestimated
overimposed
minded fully
not
a
chance
in
hell
to ever
feel
anything
again
to love is a blue dream
woken from in a cold room
cluttered with dirty clothes
and bare walls
driving home the point
twisting the blade
waking up alone
from a blue dream





meta

ghosts sprout wings in my brain;
thoughts returned slighted
there is poetry screaming to get out
ask
teeth grinding race to the end of the day
feel
the sirens are closing in
the wind is howling in a vacant lot of unparked dreams
hear
the house on the hill tell its stories
share its burdens
shiver
with warped panes of glass
thinned from age
tell me your tales of things past
walk
in corridors of time
high on a windy hill




evolve

in our virus state
consuming
we write, sleep and talk
never communicating
just screaming
where is the endless rapture
the sacred dance?
our souls are whipped
submitting
we crawl away
to our daily dungeons
eating the drudgery
we become black
insides endless and deep
as the night






stale dream

suicide americana
young children
blow out their brains in the midwest
fear is capital for respect
the evolving glory will not save us
from ourselves,
sick minds,
sexual disease
the breeding of the next slander race
the unappreciative loin-sprout
we'll kill them with unappreciation
silence them with gestures
you terrible sluts of time
when did you fuck away your souls?






young lust

a human animal
a wolf caught too many times
on societies killing tree
we fuck in the open
under the stars
growling
some beast in the pit of the stomach
calls,
howls to a new crescent moon
teeth bared in the hunt
lost in the endless caress of the night
dreaming with freedom
hackles raised in the chill
adrenal pump-pump
of strained muscle
synapse screams
to become one with the prey
snarling a love song too old to be civilized
fangs and claws
griping the edge of lust
panting to ancient, wild rhythms
curling in passion's blast furnace
dancing wildly to the chaotic,
frenzied death of orgasm




business

grey listless suits
bargain for each others souls,
wives or bank accounts
hey, emptiness,
let’s give the world a hand
god, to blank out these fastidious
lives
useless ticking of existentialist hearts
the hectic signs of drunkenness
lashing the faces of the old
the nearly dead are teaching us
to find gainful employment,
yet, they consider themselves failures.
it’s fucked up
the way you gotta do things to survive






creative orgasm

spawned high
in a deep blue heaven
spilling into mind
fraught with wanting
desires fighting pain
a conglomerate state
of confusion
wrapped in warm tissues
goddess of liberation
heart's soft palpitations
lament terror
feed back memory
plays tunes
on a sharp line of minor
hope is vanity's soothing caress





first night

do you remember how old you were
when you first looked out to see
the torn edge of the night?
the perforated dawn rippling with life
the moon still chasing clouds across the sky?
they left him there
to burn down a memory
floating just at the crack of twilight
a foot above the ground
eyes flying across deserts singed with fire






and i saw it in an instant........

death spans longer than life
a life is a moment
a fuel, spark, orgasm
shouting:
fuck me in all ways
sore and unyielding
take me like a little child
a dungeon toy
split
like thunder in the rain
(a boy then descended the walkway toward life)
desolation
an all consuming pattern
destroyed on the head of the dancing pin
with angels watch'd
distended tongues
crucified images
and things we won’t see until tomorrow
(for a time he's lost)
weathered old-necked faces shine
like hardwood in the dawns laughter
now grey eyed and hazy
he needs words
to fill the space
dumb awestruck letters forming
thoughts in a span
days are littered about
smelling of butane and ashes
(the boy stumbles)
agony replaces defeat
tired and alone
breathing shallow
in the two a.m. rain
bathing in a year's shallow grave
of sooty time's questions





revenge

we are the destroyers of our destinies
the corruptors of our own minds
we own space
we own time
freeing ourselves through the same puppet strings
some grasp in discontent
cut yourself free
walk alone, the solace left behind
a dirt road paradise
dreaming in a continuum of vagrancy
wander afar, braced by nothing
walk away from the box of your own mind
(how'd you like a taste of insanity?)
how would you like to eat your own shit of suffering
in the quiet of the three a.m. ?
clock ticking its madness in your ears
tear off your right hand and shove it in your laughing asshole.
breed nightmares in the day time and show them to the world
let them learn to hate themselves
like it was just yesterday, that it 'wasn’t such a big deal'
let them go to the mirror and shave off the sound of their own screaming
let them bathe in their 'i told you so's'
oh vengeance
these festering wounds only grow
find medicine
find it within




trip style

working on a tripstyle prediction
time
a mind
someone’s dream
all these nasty vibrations
collective energetic malfunction
turns into
burned out buildings
the edge of a city
picking through memories in the aftermath
an aged look passes across eyes where i once held my smile
look awhile
hey,
look awhile
so i turn over debris
counting on shadows to obscure
to thwart memory
it doesn’t seem so long ago.....
a gasoline fit
jangling at the end of a nervous arm
set to douse
and bring to flame
the end made a powerful beginning
but the last light in the attic went out
with a popping, hole in your head sound
the fire knew best
trying to corrupt the pictures memory made
but only succeeded in a ghoulish rendering
of the truth
don’t look in my eyes
you won’t like what you see:
a giant rambling city, filled with crime
got carried away
burned a beautiful sight,
now, the last bastion of a soul gone grey and listless
well,
times come
kingdoms come
how you gonna get by?




bad trip

her mind got filled with christian death
and once the screaming stopped,
a white hot silence left after the dying day
collapsed inward
and all fell down the winding road
to bruise and decay
which the feet of an idol claimed.
any useful sound was not made.
in the demon dawn we sang,
a notion of filling vessels with water
there is a clap-trap metal body
scraping, screaming, gnashing its teeth
devouring the minutes faster after midnight
give the dawn this ring to wear,
my day is done
i’ve other songs to sing
and lives to lead





observation of the city at night

dogs barking like omens on the wind
in a black leathery night
choruses of baying hounds
reach through glass and wood to chill me
the lone cricket sings its monotone song above
the whisper of hand moving across paper at four a.m.
there are smoke filled mirrors in glass houses
children who will smile and awake to gunshots
the poor man's tax bent back
creaks
to the wino crying 'Jesus' in the alleyway






tomorrow

standing on the westering sunset
turning grey in all directions
a funeral march plays just for me
heart is beating madman’s time
and five a.m. is just comin' along
tapping a miserable tune
all out of time
teeth clicking at odd intervals
eyes just rollin'
in seas of biting promises






school

all their names were rotten
festering sores
on a memory
of when their ways were as the light
piercing the darkness
the mind a beacon of eyes






one last whisper before the end

freedom stalks
a taunting dagger at the end
of someone’s crimson wet dream
memory is displaced
a rock thrown
through the window of mind
breaks the world into
one thousand glittering pieces





smoke

an arrogant-vile gesture, like spitting
carbon and blood wrapped tissue
bright eyes get dull and colorless
tobacco dreams
burning down a hallway scattering dust
of smoke and phlegm
behind the dreamer
long grey freshets pooling in rooms
stained the color of malaria
a skeleton's cough with twenty bones in a row
spelling a slow death in blackened lungs
a spell of youth gone awry
the rebels know what to do
smiling a skull grin
slow suicide
clasped in sharp teeth




the utensil

the pen points
an accusing finger wrapped in plastic
it knows of the grand design
the irresistible pull
times dagger, ready to plunge
through the stark wasteland
and draw new blood from a tired rhyme
its spell only broken by the words we speak
reprehensible, tawdry lines weep
tales bleed
the pen is swabbed across a page
the color of hi-beam
sixty mile per hour death trap
we're caught
and glare blinded
dead before the impact
caustic black blood spilling amidst the lines



cards

so truth played us all a hand
gartered legs with hidden aces
waiting to trump a last trick
drunk and blinded
we stagger
and in an honest clarity
see all the masks littering the faces
of our dear ones.
playing cards to find the truth
or rule ourselves
judging our reflections
in pools of corruption
cataract eyes steamy with the haze
of lies, butchered in telling ways
truth's razor cuts deep
with a twisting agony of realization
a stark white cloud
lifting life, dream, maze
dark fertile cloud
drifted a lazy circle
out of light
to run for days
on a fools errand of lost focus
running down a gutter in the rising dawn





menstrual flow

a monthly ritual of scientific intrusion
an insertion damning the crimson tide
the life giver has much to bear
seemingly unaware of the change
hot tempers and mental fits
disquiet
and when she says she's starting
she means all sorts of things unreasonable
but it’s really for the best
'cause a man couldn’t be the maker,
creator, selfless and giving warrior,
and be burned at the stake once a month





ravings

the attempt at caring
the lying sweatiness at confessional
the entire loss to grasp the obvious
it’s a long way to the end of someone’s day
night stealing across the sunset,
a masturbating virgin
unsure, yet,
so close....
we burned our eyes on the scene
the scent of first kisses in the air

a couple takes animal tranquilizers to go dancing
one gaunt, one portly, starving one another,
dead patient





waiting for the collapse

i must get up everyday to greet the seven o'clock puppet show
at the local poet's 120. it’s sad and sickening,
even their art is mechanical and derivative.
everyone the implementive strategist, the untrodden boundary.
'we are ALL great' they squeak, but all the fear and
bullshit aside, we are laughing at ourselves and hating
each other for some perceived slight.
our pale-beautiful lives drift through a haze of jargon soup
never lighting on a last conclusion, a final truth.
admitting failure, an incomplete gesture at best,
loses momentum and falters
on mouths lost in soupy grins.






lives like a pile of violins

singing a cadence for rotting minds
and the soulless
the wind that blew across our lives
like freedom
we wondered if it had been there at all
or was just some left over monologue
of dead men's dreams
whispering quietly
of change and ending
a voice full of mocking birds smiles






suicide day

the son of a world gone grey and listless
mourning a statuette
arms outstretched and dying
the little boy told me god took his mommy away
so, i say, 'fuck god'
and god says, 'fuck you'
neither of us noticed the injury
the little boy looked afraid
like he might have swallowed some poison,
and looked to the clear sky uncertainly.
‘whose god?’ i ask, and stroll away
i fuck up everything i see







and there are finks everywhere

the fruit of our self deception proves useful
once realized
a matter left to discussion in darkened rooms
a promise made over a candle flame
will not last
a flickering intrest
the mistress fans the fire
a poor observation, 'I love you'-
a mindless desire
love thyself
if lacking






before work

the early drunk is best
better to drink close to sleep
deaden yourself early
to the fast moving world
and instead of running
just
drift




white

the slow tide
inexorable
as the cold blue movements
in winter's ocean
the more warmth i look for
the colder it seems
the morning sun is spiteful
and the white wind wants me dead
every year
this slow tide of without
drowning me in debt
freezing isolation
perfect immolation





leavings

we lead ourselves in a tormented circle
of tiny deaths, miniscule cellular division.
legs spread, thrusting
a long tunnel through our movie-reel lives
one thousand kisses to ease the ache of parting
there is no preparing
for a life so fooled with lies.
blessed are the meek
who without the strong would have nothing
to compare themselves to
no heady righteousness to seek





one lie

the angel with shifty eyes
afraid of the silence
filling the small room
with her empty horn voice
retreating
i blow a kiss
full of dead promises
listen to this






learning why

children have to be convinced
to trust
adults convince themselves
to be shrewd
life,
a long twisting insect
of half-truths
and 'perceptive' differences






vampiricly drained

getting older
i never thought it was possible
to lose my youth
now i have to deny myself
from acts
wanton moments
who would’ve thought i'd
pass such a test
were are all the kissable mouths?
drinking in a bar?
sleeping in another's bed?
this convenience store diary
to line my days
i am constant lonely
an amphetamine mess
from the night before
nodding and dying.
wake up long enough to exercise
and sleep till i have to return to
the hateful work where i sit
remembering the price of cigarettes
twelve years ago
using my lunch money for smokes and soda.
lives marked by our habits
things make less sense in the wake of the years.




wanton princess

devouring my sexuality
with her youth
a white linen sheet
to cover my carbon existence
for a moment i feel giddy
as sixteen
playing Russian roulette
with another dark angel
in her basement
beside the piano
with her fathers pistol
to my temple
i really wanted to go...........
(she and fate had a deal though)
every time i chased death
it seemed to carry her face
and lately,
when i can’t even see myself,
i hear her laughing.
i see age, failure, a ghost.
i am a memory clouded with time,
a trauma i could give to you,
a living example,
the horror of the truth,
the misery of knowledge.
no longer a human, person, being
merely the sum of experience.
i am what i am,
worse,
i am what i say i am.





pouring

sit here thinking
the rain might wash it away
the replete tragedy that living entails
the doomed note we sing
on days when the sky is grey
and we don’t wanna work
just play the almighty wet-weather
sex music
that first put us to the map
it’s an ancient musing
first told
last known





the friday night wind with secrets spent

endless strings of consequence
and reaction
unexplored possibilities
and we haven't yet begun
to taste life
somewhere between the expositions
some great trick lies silent
whispering to only a few





motion sickness

home
the name of a place i'll never find
just gotta keep rollin'
keep filling in the holes
with razor cuts
and dime-store porn
the sickness comes in seconds
his smile is full of black teeth
eyes a gleaming fire
madness burning
everyone is frightened
wet between the thighs
of their soulless places
practicing for marriage
chasing dependence.
when did love pass from me?






one day

someone will find all my notes
print twenty leather-bound mss
while i rot in a shallow grave.
maybe my skull will grin at the irony.






little death

i like to trail
callused tips of fingers
near the base of her spine
kiss her there
letting the small hairs pull
at my lips
as i drag them upward
gooseflesh rises
hands trace ribs
women love to be touched
as we were newly dead
feathery soft and yielding
warming to the moment
we fuck
like animated animal corpses
strings and stuffing and jerking
it wears me out





conceit

all the women are wanton and afraid
willing us jesters
to further push the envelope
to fuck
even the least of them
tastes lust
they deny themselves
the warm, wet liquor of thighs
stomachs
a tongue sliding slowly
down the feathered nape of necks
and fingers
the rake of teeth on collarbones
the closeness of coming
sex in waves
soulfucking
startling
defiant
pure





never learn

all these years passed
still shocked, disbelieving
making faces in the mirror
at god and loss
all those damned fairytales
always at a loss for words
too breathless
to hear the happy ending







tantra

the divine ecstasy
grind like climbing
twine the soul-shouting massacre
in small moments of dying
we gloat, minds full
thick with wet desire






lovers

child of the moon
will you come into my arms
to learn the impassioned
ecstatic dance?
will you show me your soul,
this pathway,
the light that glimmers and
draws me nearer?
will you show me what is beautiful,
climbing to the stars?
child of the night
will you vanquish me with kisses
in your eyes?
let my soul stand naked
before your beauty?
the world was ending
but i am stirred
the earth on fire
but there was you
smiling
god, just smiling
you set me free to flames





Friday, Saturday, Sunday

weekend philosophy
of lonely marketeers
flesh merchants
alcohol and beauty
they make it sound so easy
but i stay alone
dreaming across the telephone
a Weeping Virgin,
The Enigma
refusing always
refuting the game
naming reasons
not to play





pain

the everlasting love of suffering
the salty stinging song
physical is real
sensuous ringing
the notes of needles and flesh





agony, sweet and low

guitars with sex
wooden women to fuck,
until the screaming subsides
i gotta get mine
trying to find the sexual,
circular, doorway
put your cock in the music
massage each fret
a stranger’s clit
straining
to complete the primary passion
tap the essence before the thrusting
and bursting
what will be left
after this mutual masturbation?
more fuel to feed the lust
more space to breathe in
all these lonely moments






you can have it

did not ask for what was given
just one smile
but bargains were arranged
promises spoken
tossed in the wind
and ripped away
then the carnival began in earnest
riding out past ridiculousness
just to answer the telephone
the friendly voice
the winning smile
it’s all facade
stucco to hide the cracks
how long before my sanity
shows, and breaks all their backs?
these lost children
sixty on the freeway
and they pick me,
the blind, to lead.
define Irony





this or that

show me misfits
and i'll give you gravestones
replete with epitaph
and all the fallen angels in between





too young

such innocence of desire
i would quiet laughter
with thrusting
a cock in the mouth
of bright-eyed angels
to climax across
perfect breasts
erect nipples
to prove the essence





the steel of me

taut skin
smooth, unblemished
the wish
to enter the purity
of sensual abandon
a mass of arms, flesh
friction of light caress
the steel of me
pushing madly toward
climax
lost in the shouting,
ecstatic desire
to learn the oneness
souls intertwining
godlike-passionate






nineteen

i wanted her wild
free
a stampede of sex
and sweet straining
breathing matched
an orgy of conceit
drawing in the purity
of being desire
being fuck
within the grasp
of a young saint




almost wedded

our time was but an instant
clutching
like blind people fucking
searching for the penis
the vagina
to put tab A into slot B
because of sex
there was love
then distrust
then disgust