Cold and clean, clinical, “and his name is The End of Days” said the priest.
        “At least he wasn’t born deceased”-
        “Like the last”

Clips and phrases filtered and bent by reality.
        At least leash the beast high on brutality-
        Isn’t life a blast?

Ere our life and yours, and all these stores, before us all!
        Even before man metaphorically could crawl-
        All things gone so fast

Because the mad man frowns with his collar so tight and his book so ****** its black-
        And his words so holy as to make grown men crack.
        Even your own countless sins surpassed.

Watch closely as the seas boil and life returns to their steaming embrace,
        the world left quiet and gray, maybe
        even so I won’t believe in god “just in case”.

the Exquisite Executioner.

What kind of organic golem
of engrammic man am I,
so cold as to make you quiver.

You ask what hides under
my thin veneer of vernacular?
A bullshitter.

Caressing a mind swollen with Superego
I'd rather be traveling Home if only
I could just let

Me
                    go.

For
I am the ****, leftover from
your irate iron decisions.

I am the sepulcher, wreathed by
your iconoclastic tongue.

I am the maw
trite in humanity
partite in hunger.

As you **** and jiggle
hop and knock
slip and giggle
keep a foot forward
and the other forewarned.
Slack jawed and hackneyed
you're endlessly forlorn
slack kneed and jack knifed.
High on strife and ******,
car crashes on black rock
cracked streets and hard
sweets lined teeth so
stained with self love that
your internal apathy fits
glove-like and I am hungry
struggling against your
thundering angry words
filled with fifty year old
angst ugly with stretch
marks but more from
the sadness dribbling
down your philtrum un-wiped
like I was and the only thing
I now want cleaned off is my
memories of you smeared
erratically and etched eternally
onto my life.

I am staring at the red hand demanding stop
in a mostly silent rushing manner with any
urgent notice for the blind lost in the crushing banter.

And there is white hot anger in me
at the flamboyant capsules borne along to be seen
it is Soylent in essence proudly proclaiming to be green

I am flaring at the steady hand pandering
hot in a most heady hushing stammer.
Myths nay jerkingly, quoting for us
the signed history and sing lush slander.

And there is white hot anger in me
at the clairvoyant ape who is now born
chain-smoking and mean;
it is annoyance in adolescence rowdily
claiming to be clean.

Nowhere is now here, desolation; within
my adulterated honesty you took from me
that which you did not believe I still owned
in your break-neck speed habitually
freed into earthly delight in
the last shades of dim light
wild with sin, hiding a sparse
vapid wilderness within.

You firmly handle my grip
as milky droplets of ineptitude
drip.

Oh' glamorous god glassy eyed, in me
you have so very much time invested
I burn past tense n’ loosen tight lips. I may
be lost without Love jejunely injected
regularly in to my life made little with
worry and neglect. Love's politics ensue; know
I am not the one for you. I have not been
properly tested. Jarringly elected
for your need with a kind word herds
your starry glossed eyes to my body infested
with your skin and visible wet wild sin.

I forgot my life as I lived it.
I forgot my body as I died.
I forgot my shadow
as it was burned on the wall.
I forgot then and now
and will forever after.
I forgot the sky as it was blue.

I remembered the sky as it is now,
still dark and brooding--filled
with the truth of our downfall.
I forgot that the bombs

had already exploded.

I forgot.