Let's go, indigo... This is your slip up.
Hacksaw twin. Lumber jack. I resort
to name calling when I am overworked.
*So what? You compare me to the
gun you left in a public restroom
and I part the curtains
enough for you to see the ritual.
Ya know, the one with the crawfish
and blood root - the one where I have
a young Elvis Presley and
a middle aged John Wayne
and I touch them both obsessively
and I burn the flesh of a cactus
and I am dressed in plum colored
velour tighter than skin.*
Look, kid.
*These things are real.
The white noise, the favorite peacock,
the heavy ashtray,
the sepulcher holding my child -
the crucifix thrown, the plastic
soldiers under my toes, the belt
that thickened my eyelids Shut - crybaby
memory, but this is it. Ritualistic, & a
guy wants to drown himself between
the river banks of razor burn?
Lord, help me.*
If you talk through the end
of another movie
you aren't getting laid.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 9:59 AM UTC
Let's go, indigo... This is your slip up.
Hacksaw twin. Lumber jack. I resort
to name calling when I am overworked.
*So what? You compare me to the
gun you left in a public restroom
and I part the curtains
enough for you to see the ritual.
Ya know, the one with the crawfish
and blood root - the one where I have
a young Elvis Presley and
a middle aged John Wayne
and I touch them both obsessively
and I burn the flesh of a cactus
and I am dressed in plum colored
velour tighter than skin.*
Look, kid.
*These things are real.
The white noise, the favorite peacock,
the heavy ashtray,
the sepulcher holding my child -
the crucifix thrown, the plastic
soldiers under my toes, the belt
that thickened my eyelids Shut - crybaby
memory, but this is it. Ritualistic, & a
guy wants to drown himself between
the river banks of razor burn?
Lord, help me.*
If you talk through the end
of another movie
you aren't getting laid.
