My lover's words become the buzzing of humming bird wings
A painted mouth miming a stream of saccharine nothings
Supple limbs at the whim of marrionette strings
Her fingers trail ice on my chest
Weaving knots of unrest
That strumpet
That puppet caress
Nestled in this undressed
Stained box-set mattress

Its the caffiene, Its the nicotine
Its the everything
I smoke, drink, and cling to
Its my habitat
It must be cleaned too
Its the search for stronger, longer
Its the scent that can't be laundered
Its the smell of ***** from my pores
Whats there to use and off for more
Its the whole **** thing
So dance and puke and sing

A bedroom window
Is at night
Lit as if
By stage lights
Unbeknownst show of depravity
Starring a duo with audacity
Fierce bravado
Sillouhettes in perverse pantomime
Like moths drawn to its eerie glow
Passionate dance makes a window
Prone to peering
Fascination with the reviled
Certain sins with secret fans endearing

TELL TELL TELL
Me about the hell of sin
While I can
SMELL SMELL SMELL
The love-stink of your next of kin
I'll
BURN BURN BURN
My blood is made of gin
It drips down
Sticks to
Stains your chin
Lascivious and lurid is your predator grin
When with vicious curling rictus
You inflict this, you begin
DECIEVER ****** LEADER
My devout Sunday morning tweaker
Set us up in rows of pews
We sit and listen, you spout and spew
Don't presume us to be in virtue weaker
Than you, my fire and brimstone preacher.

Indigo is the gaunt damp face of the still-born messiah.
With crude-oil cappillary flush like mottled blush
On Treblinka cheek bones.
On cold steel autopsy table, It's topsy turvy shrine,
A halogen lamp halo hums and sways
Over It's holy rolling head.
Unsavory savior, the pundit spared It's pageant.
With blackhole pupils pierced and seeping
Vitreol fluid like the weeping ******'s tears,
Carving termite trails in their wake.
It trembles, gasps, and quakes
With the knowledge of futility.
All that was and all that will
Successively unsuccessfully.
A parade of steel tables on blood spattered conveyer belt,
Pulled to the symphony of six billion bellowed pleas for salvation,
Through tattered curtains to uncertainty.