**** it,
imma go to the store
and get a few more
beers and some marlboros
im stumbling
all over the place
making circles in the hardwood
with my feet
and swing doors in the air closed
with spaghetti in my veins,
but imma make it,
imma shut that *******
dog up
too,
keeps barking,
shut the **** UP.

"That's Rob's dog,"
Elcie says,
spit ripples at the corners
of her mouth,
and some baked ziti
is rumored to be
in the toilet.

That ******* thing
is getting six 60 milogram
perky sets in his morning kibble,

right after I puke
some more baked ziti
and wodka.

Oh ruinous apple,
the flesh
is too much
and sweet as hell,
sweet as
chicken meat
dripping off the bone
to swim in pureed flesh
on the tongue,
oh ruinous apple,
your stem
is no longer a caterpillar,
there is no tiny butterfly
of a leaf
on your dorsal.

Oh ruinous apple,
you say
"I have grown old
and
hate my skin,"
hoping that it will finally
be shredded
and given
to my belly.

Oh ruinous apple,
you are not so old to me,
you have become
a cougar
in your old age and
the seeds
still make tambourine noises
in your *******.

I am a man at
odds
with the sun,
my body
runs
away from me
and my shadow
has seashells in it ears
and wet, floppy, dead gull feathers
hanging from its mouth.

The sun makes
a man
a shoreline, a landfill
when he was once
an
ocean.

I've been playing a game lately.

I stole four or five plastic eggs
from the dollar general,
and when I'm drunk I place
them
around my room,
and look for eggs
in the morning,
hoping to find sobriety or at least
level-headedness
in plastic air pockets.

Your love is hard
like rocks
in my belly
in the morning;
like starting the countdown
to a three-day drunk
a week later,
at every turning point,
every shadow
of an angle,
I am taking roads
I have never
crossed,
I am watching
water run
in crystalline rivers
toward alleys
I've never known.

When they ask me
for money
or Marlboros,
I say yes,
please,
I would like those too.

I would like to eat
bagels
in the sun
with crinkly paper in my teeth
and sour cream cheese
sweetening in the liquor.

My landscaper's shoulders
and granite deltoids
are now green with lime
and lichens.

Girls like to run
their
hands over them;
but they are hungry
for your hands
and the lavishing footsteps
of your fingernails.

When I wake up
I put enough water in the
coffee-maker
for about
twenty cups,
and enough
***** in those
twenty cups
for a three-day drunk.

Your love is hard like ice-cold *****
and boiling coffee
that
mutilates tastebuds
and
makes my belly feel real good.

But not talking to you for awhile;
it's easier to warm up in the morning
so I can cool down at night,
and by the pink dawn
of darkness
I could get back to working my belly
with *****, rocks, and
Marlboros.

there's a blunt out back,
that's got my name on it,
i need this time
to chill
and remember the goodness,
the parties
where girls danced up on me,
their ***** on my ****,
and their hips in my fingertips,
the girls that smelled like coconut
when their ******* smelled like ***,
but they were good,
****,
they loved me
for me,
and i'd curl their hair
in my fingertips
like a sadist
twirls hearts.

Me and the lil homies
chilled in the back,
smoking
while their moms
screamed at us,
talking about cops
and ******* **** up,
we just chilled there,
passing the L
and feeling ourselves
because the **** was good
and the girls
were around
to let us know
that we could touch
something
inside another person.

i'd come home
and my ma
would start in on me,
i'd end up in the hospital
with a few
neighbors
in my icu crew,
so maybe i'd end up
a **** up,
but me and the lil homies
liked to fight,
we'd go in until
one of us was ******
then we'd get drunk
and rowdy,
trying to put to sleep
the fear
inside of us.

The way
we used to handle it,
was through bars,
we'd rap
and I'd start
throwing fists,
I catch a ******
in the hip
quick,
catch him in the hallway
or
anywhere else
he chose to spit.

I swear, my face was bloodied
so much that I couldn't see,
a ****** six-foot three,
tried to put me in a headlock,
said i was a *****,
so i started going in,
i got my face
messed up,
my cheekbones are high
because they were punched
up there,
but when i was a kid
i'd never do ****,
i wonder what my legacy will be,
will i be remembered for the love
that i was afraid to show,
or the hate
i was too ready
to make plausible.

I TOLD THAT ******* TO SWING ON ME,
TAKE A CHANCE
MOTHEFUCKER,
TAKE A CHANCE,
I WANNA GET MY *** KICKED,
LET ME
CHILL HERE ON THE EARTH
WHILE YOU STAND OVER ME,
SPITTING
AND
DISSING.

BUT WHEN I GET UP
IMMA  BE MAD
ENOUGH
TO SCREAM
AND ****,
IMMA BE
A MANIAC
ON YOUR DOORSTEP,
IMMA BE
A ******
WITH NO CHANCES
WHEN I'VE GOT THREE.

SO WHEN YOU SWING ON ME *******,
SWING ON ME
AS YOU TRY AN CALL ME A *****,
JUST KNOW THAT IMMA COME AT
YOU
WITH A THOUSAND GRENADES
IN MY FINGERTIPS,
AND WHEN YOU DON'T SWING,
AND DON'T DO ****,
I'LL KNOW HOW YOU'RE MADE,
IMMA KNOW THAT ALL THAT **** YOU TALK
IS JUST A MISNOMER.

MY FINGERS GRIP MY HEART
AS MUCH
AS THEY GRIP FISTS.

KNOW THAT IMMA CATCH YOU
WITH A RIGHT HOOK
FULL OF VEINS
AND A MAGAZINE
WITH YOUR NAME ON IT.

CHECK ME,
IMMA HIT UP SOMETHIN TONIGHT,
IMMA BRING MY FISTS
LIKE BURNERS,
MAKE YOU FEEL THE FIRE OF HELL,
CAUSE I'M ON THE EDGE,
AND THIS GIRL ****** UP MY HEART,
MY GRAMMA IS AT THE END OF HER ROPE,
MY MAMA IS STILL POOR,
MY SISTER STILL DOESN'T KNOW HERSELF,
AND MY HOMIES
ARE FAR AWAY,
FARTHER THAN YOU CAN SEE,
SO IMMA CHILL ON THIS PULSATING LEVEE.