Rosary clutched in stigmata death-palm
coughed-up contrition of flies,
saints of jazz
doo-*** prophets
scrying the future
from the crumbling platforms
of terminal subways
Desolate taxis
hijacked by hobo lords spewing dysentery,
harvest moon waxing
ever-expanding translucent womb
of hostile intentions left to die
Barricades of broken dreams
stockpiles of regret
"Remember the pox of '26?"
"****** your sister"
"Not a prayer--***** priestess ****-altar
in terminal subway"
"Believe it"
Desperate shadows
of neon slave-kings
flutter by like nickelodeon
stuck on 1920
New feasts in empty rooms
served by ******* children
of obsolete gods
Highways filled with
dispossessed shadows
harvested from toxic
curdled telepathic fusion
of soft spiritual resonance
upon flashback landscapes
Jew street-vendors
hustling new flesh
for old scars
New breeds of
the same old crooners
gurgling asymmetric odes
pining over angry youth
and necromantic daydreams
Hostages taken by silent armies
Locust women nesting
virulent seeds in catacomb brothels
Starlight suicide casts silhouette
upon hungry playgrounds
Cruel magic, discarded taboos
fetal totems
Piano plays itself
in spectral ghost town saloon
Iridescent window fragments
of hollowed-out Mardi Gras trailer park
Lazy wolves move
in slow maddening orbits
The meandering scent
of virginal ***** girls
strewing violets with hymeneal joy
The final trumpet
bleating agony of soft pearls
like death needing a friend
Now the seals the scrolls the bowls
and diaries of Hebraic nightmares
"Remember the pox of '26?"
"I'm tired"
"Do you remember Heaven's frozen depths?"
"Can't feel my legs"
"Perilous matrimony
dowry of blood and skin--rest now"
the last of our tears
fall into Hell as rain.

Sifting through the wreckage
Of yesterday’s meltdown
Like returning to the scene of a crime

The last of me
Outlined in chalk
Thoughts of her
Still running down my cheeks

Scars on my arms
No hesitation cuts
Each wound precise
Every **** deliberate

Her name
Carved into my chest
Just over the heart
Slashed in phlebotomic shorthand

My vacant eyes
Reflecting her
Searching for her
Reaching for her

Eventually I will stand
Covered in dry blood and dust
Cigarette burns and rust
Loneliness tinged with bitter sorrow
Only to fall apart once again tomorrow.

Terminal landscape of necrotized cities
Grey spectral sidewalks ending in splinters
Streets paved with gravestones
Roving children reared upon barbed wire dreams
Their hollow teeth filed down
And stilettos in their boots

A malignant sky like an open wound
Bruised with an exhausted moon
Skyclad women
Wanton and feral
Spilling syphilitic nightmares
Within vacant doorways
High priests of unconstituted religions
Spelled out in cuneiform shorthand
Myopic prophets foretelling wars already lost
Prognosticating futures already passed

Dead end highways congested with traffic
Neon lights leading nowhere
Muted streetlights casting shadows
And always the unrelenting silence of inevitability

This is how it is.
This is how it ends.

Of the horns I am
Of the horns I remain
Slouching across fields
Of **** and ruin
Crouched beneath
The reeling sunwheel
Upon a mephitic breeze
My prayers go out
Like a harvest of rats.

Of the rusty rails I am
Of the rails I remain
Hobo shaman
Black-clad vagabond King
Black marketeer
Of a paradise misbegotten

Of the bottomless pit I am
And of the pit I remain
My lilting choirs of Armageddon
Sung on lyres strung with flesh and wire
Summoning my ******* sons and brute creations
Shat from feculent wombs of excrement
I stand insolently against Gabriel's hollow trumpet
And Michael's jaded blade
Soon to be bound in perpetual night
My assassins are on the wing

I inherit the earth
Upon the backs of the meek
I am legion
For I am many.

It should make me bleed
It should make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin
It should take me where I don't want to go
Into the darkest corners of obsolete dreams
It should stir the old gods to life
And awaken the slumbering spirit of the race
Spare me your numb sentimentality
And windows into your flaccid memories
Bring forth your demons and their hell fire
Wield your pen like a knife to my throat
And make me feel alive for even a few minutes
Speak to me the words of a new faith
Sing to me forbidden songs of new ceremonies
Invite me into your darkest corners and show me your horrors
Let us barter on the black market of thoughts and ideas
Let us reinvent the myths
Speaking new worlds into being
Let us be gods for a time

These four walls
Cold, hostile
Giving no quarter
Closing in like an angry mob

Coming to terms with the alchemy
Of silent desperation

Four walls
Sweating nicotine
And runaway dreams
Moist with tears
And broken hearts

Pacing the floor
A path well worn
The wreckage of myriad regrets
Falling from my heel

Four walls
And two windows
Looking out at
More walls still
An endless array
Of hope fenced in

Four walls
With eyes in them
The eyes of rats
Shifting and senile
Marking my every move

Four walls
The sum and whole
Of the universe
Mensurable and incarnate

In here
Where the air is thick
With smoke and daydreams
There is but one option
Facing existence...

...use once and destroy.

Walking these streets
My feet stick to the pavement
Wet with blood and ***

The air thick and stagnant
Settling in the lungs like ash
All around are seas of broken glass
And scattered shards of dreams

Children with vacant eyes
Playing at gutter wars
Their miniature armies
Filling the night with screams

Teenage existentials
Nursing junk habits
Prepubescent mothers
Trading food stamps for ****

Beggars with cellphones
Pacing the medians
Pigs in blue getting head
In silent stairwells

Boarded up windows
Keeping secrets in
And all hope out

Silent mills
Desolate railroad tracks
Stretching forth to nowhere

Boulevards of desperate shadows
Vacant lots and empty playgrounds
Burnt out tenements
Foreclosures and yellow tape

Slouching back to my room
An overflowing ashtray
And walls that sigh
All night long

I settle in, laying back on my bed
With its familiar creaks and groans
Thinking of my far away love
Who will someday lift the darkness from these streets.