poem: on the outside

12 Apr

on the outside i lay bleeding
i’m sorry Mrs. Robinson
he will not survive the procedure
rolling laughter sounds
priests and poets
and jackals of every shade
wander hallways
lit
too bright
by antiseptic light

on the outside i lay bleeding
fuck you
nothing to say
fuck you
transitioned from dust to the stinking piss of monuments yet to fall
fuck you
no savior, no Christ – no horses at a St. Patrick’s Day parade
fuck you
no breath
fuck you
no dope
fuck you
no speed in my veins
fuck you
no cock for your cunt
fuck you

i must pause
perhaps slow
perhaps
dream
yes dream
of masturbation
and whores and a needle plunger press deep release
ah yes that’s it
ah yes yes indeed
gimme gimme gimme
my dope
fuck you
my drugs
fuck you
i’ll suck your cock for a taste
fuck you
just a hit a bump a short transition away from this radiator water acid flush reality
fuck you
c’mon anything? anything at all? something to move forward? something to carry on?

fuck you

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