just because you're dead
doesn't mean we aren't dating anymore
does it?
i am haunted
hearing you read a poem in my head,
dead
so we must have chemistry
or am i interminably obsessed
like a ghostly house
while your poems
have there way with me
rumbling down my phantom thigh
breathing
on the layaway plan 
ghastly pumpkin in the oven
languishing gracefully

your generosity in death
a carnival ride of fascination
like a broken bird
to tormented to hold
your preference  
hors d’oeuvres of rat poison
and verse
for the thin air road

a smudged face poets last word
in crumbs of burnt onions and charred meat 

your so pretty in penny loafers
bare legs dangling
In this homeless corridor sunken in your blackened
idol of release
and that stupid stare
your weight no longer measured in grief
i was born to late
to die with you
to save a pretty nymph in a downward spiral
precious fertilizer of poetry fields
i'm fixated on your suicide pose
but you're too busy being dead
to give a ****,
my sweet eyed snob of smiling hooks
i'm obsessively obsessive
for what could never be
and is
am i not your fan,
your creep?
if i pulled you from the oven
and rattled life
no doubt, you'd be all **** and vinegar 
i'd be your despicable hero
a vampire
like a straight jacket of love you hate

your dead now poet of twilight
and i'm left here reading your poems
telling you softly
they are the best poems ever
and making believe
you love me

the poem started with the word
the
it wasn't a good
the;
it didn't sit on the page right
like a head with a bad perm
another poem started with the word
the

the the
had so much integrity;
it floated on the page like a sun drenched cathedral

i can only surmise the magic of a poem has in it the ineffable soul
of the writer

are the good writers nonchalant
talent dripping
or are they secretly *******
their the's

******* on
the the's
making them gleam
glowing hard
polishing them with a spit shine
so it sits on the page
with a sense of superiority

some poems are nothing but arm pit stains
no matter how good they are
black listed from love

others
stratospheric
sky-blue uniforms
with bright yellow kerchief's
you cant take your eyes from

they are
the
crowning glory

the
the
in the
the

God of the
the's
peaked like a maraschino
with pastel and golden sprinkles
on a ball
of vanilla

a the
like a high end Mercedes
with the scent of lavender
and the magnitude of the
Botafumeiro

a
the
to **** for

oh better not say that
weaving tongue
better not cut my ***** off
with malignant algorithm's
better not think lions shredding hyenas
while veiled demons lick ******* for car payments
and boarder children gnash heaping tears of blood
desperate for their parents loving arms
and soft troubled kisses

God looks upon his creation and says
"and it is good"

what will people think
am i a nice person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face

did i say the right thing,
cypher of morality
the knot of good, a slow strangle
a frightened worm
that wont risk tears

eeek
here come the scissors

technology brains wired like weaponized monkeys
eater of crumbs
heatless heart ransomed for the ******* rent

can i disappear
like a dead cat in a black box
better then tripping all over my self

strings attached with hooks
to digital shunted limbs
relics of modernism,
office life
boring like seamless gray linoleum
talking scapegoats hissing

always haunted by what's missing
guts spilling through clutched fingers

apologizing to a faceless crowd of sea shells
and bagged heads

spread sheet minds like computer screens
sitting all day, tabulators
data schmata
narrow chairs; bellies cascade and bloat
frenetic fingers and burning eyes
lungs exhaling only
robo faux; shut up
happy chappy snappy
key punchers
punched out

there's a part of me thats been crying since birth

be careful
the wolf is at the door
in this land;
the land of the free and the brave

Who could be content
with this wretched world

religions bribe

death; bovine silence
tears at my beating red heart

without passions arc
there would only be rational thought
and grizzled earth
arctic cold

poetry beats the gravity
of this rock
deepens the mouth of inspiration
worming through
the machinery of desperation
like Jesus floats

eloquence it's revenge
a helpless idol

same blood
different bodies

same air
different lungs

same truth
violent contradictions

i like it ickity split
mad to exceed the world
in dark dreams ******

to evoke blood wet mouths
insertions paradise of fluorescents
in a dark aperture

her pudenda
a rolling hill
gaudy wound like a smash mouth crying
split torn tearing, pink estuary
for gluttonies' joyride
that can hardly be endured
twisted tongue spice melts and glitters raw

the sheets soaked through
matted hair in saliva
blood and eggs
the screams of monsters rapture

oh feral abandon
every thing else a toil

winged genitals
hell toys for mama
like heaven cant know

his *****
like hanging bats

Nagasaki goes off in her ***
bodies; quake in silence
the bedroom; a chaotic bathroom
tulips shrill flutter
gulp and swallow milks flame
rosy welts laughing
flushing ******'s

shoved urns
all spilled libations
touching and *******
crimson **** runnels
in bathhouse foam
down the drain
to earthen bowels din
where the dead push up daisies

i am the worm in the fruit