Like Clockwork Music
It is the Autumn
flame which peels
away the pains
I’ve disentangled
youth to spare
Disembodied carcasses,
disemboweled diamonds and
hearts; so much less
the strife
You planted the world
within these curls;
and Fountainhead’s
unruly sediment.
This is the plane
I’ve positioned
between teeth,
for the rapture.
Hear in
my mind
the evolutionary
mixture of past
& preset film
reproduction.
Dante’s Misconception
Exacerbated principles,
of abduction; three doors
downtown locks and Blick
meandering minds sway &
At the moment of
conception,
the prayers of
little minds
like mush
gymnasticizing
folic acid
through the mud
Inherent in the Purgatorio.
Latent Accessories to Murder
Time’s licking ticks
centrifuged molasses
scaring at the ordinary vase
You were
a mis-
nomer;
& in the apron
there were printed lilacs &
Trans-
istors, my sister’s
phlegm had held
handicapped
You were laser-
corrected, correct?
Fee fie foe fum
and the apricot
swings the cemented
sphere. To the moon;
Let the anticipation
try to regain leverage
on this hymniotic purge.
Steroidal Sinners & Saints
Blessed are
the young cunts
who bleed
in Purgatory’s
visceral evacuations
Momentum’s moments
minded by the putrid
reciprocal addendum
Only one
standing top.
Two hornets
flattening
their un-
encumbered,
testosterone-laden
multigenesis reproductive
organs.
Hush now,
baby.
Proceed with
caution & surrender
to life’s
upholstery.
This is
our one
command-
ment.
Abortion
Lethargy;
dipped in wet cement.
Our sons & daughters
wrapped in vinyl,
rapt percussion’s
signature pin-
pricked into
obsession’s consult-
ation.
A forfeiture—
hysterectomy.
Bloody sans;
misdirected
missionary
stands, strands
of pure, thick
mucous membrane
A fitting high
to this
insipid sig; nal
flare to free
the offset shooting
stars of my discovery.
The Cane Sugar
Post-
trauma
indecency
Nostrils
flared
…red
retri
bution &
the silence
of her sil-
houetted
frown.
It dumps the deep
relaxing sins upon
our never-ending
field of ice cream &
violent hymns.
Mixed Feelings
In;check
Queen&rook
Insert->parapalegic doctrine
of frostbitten synthetic signal;
flare,forest and the fires
Burning _____________.
You said,
“well to
have you ‘here;
we’ll to’
repertoire
handkerchief salute.
Salute.
And when the bells
ring from the station
as we get off the train,
and fly into the taxi cab…
Salute,
I breathe your name.
The Journey to the End of the Earth
Who’s your
cybernaut-
propagandist
speaking cylons
and holy text,
Sim-
biotic ecstasy
converted erot-
icism; moistened
synapses, glistening
with the mucous
membrane of a child’s
imaginations:
Furniture up-
turned, relax,
the world’s in
motion and the
axe falls before
we can conquer
the passion
of our lusts
Red meets yellow,
bronze & mossy
green; indefatigable
neuro-
science.
Monsters
Turist-
trapeze incinerator
blogotechnological
reminder of who I
used to be; you
inch your way into
the spine of my
discontented realities,
spewing Satanism &
the loch-ness
monsters of our
intimate relations.
Inferiority complex-
substance-
recognizable de-cay
an unfeasible
ingredient to this
aberrant landscape
The dream I
spewed so many
miles into the desert’s
barren hills;
so that you & I
could recover a
piece of broken
glass.
& rings were
held between
fingers &
the silence
strayed into
the boundaries
of a cold, black
night.
Smashed Up
Sister,
mister; man-
o-war biologic
intimidation
you fused
con-
fused the
king
In an-
onymity
she pleads to her
self-sustaining god;
realizing her mistakes,
wrapped in plastic
angles like the
bodies of the dead;
zipped & concealing
her identity,
Writing off the
pages of the night.
She wants
to escape
this slow
suffocation;
to breathe the warm
sun
and bathe
within those rays
Dripping
happiness
from a sea
of never-
ending blue.
Nothing
No face considered
in the bleak
beyond; no
turmoil, no
disruption;
no bother, no-
body.
& in her face,
the sea of
linguistic
philosophies; no
hurt, no
pain,
no deliverance
into what she
paraphrases as
self-
destruction.
No death,
no-
wet hands with
pools of fate
dismantled
in their doorstep;
no love. No isolating
measures of my
resolve.
Hysterical
Drawing out the blood
of this intoxicating silence,
whispering the
name of God;
& Hell’s permissions.
Sanity’s surrender
caustic
nom de plume
in solidarity
with one’s own
internal voices,
speaking heresies
& broken-up bouts
of fantasies in fits
of rage;
Little boy,
the stream cipher’s
daughter,
an errant digestion
of forensic peace;
I was the naked
wanderer, scratch-
ing
out
My deep blue eyes.
Mary’s Scar
Ounce, but buried
beliefs; curbed by
salutation & a
styrofoam insecticide.
Our solution
to going underground,
where all we were
after is entropic
existentialism.
Greed;
mother-
fucking
collectivism,
bite;
rattled
perpendicular
bisector.
Pigs;
haven’t you
heard the
apocryphal
symbology
of their
herd,
I show you
the encrypted
sonnets, my
love; I show
you these.
Continue
It doesn’t matter,
nothing ever matters
anymore; when chains
strike chords of
bleak tomorrow’s
landscape, we want to
cry to the gods
of yesterday to
make some semblance
of sense; but it’s
just a hat drop
away from breaking
down; it’s just a
shattered plate
beginning to
crumble from the
fracture
it’s
sustained—
foil percentages
twisted charis-
matic parenthetical
dialysis; you wore
your heart on your
sleeve, and gave it
away to the usurers.
We broke bread
at the parting of the Red Sea.
Flood & Fountain
In a collaborative sea,
speaking advantages of
self-inflicted fantasy,
holding on for something,
a taste of something,
We both have better
reasonings to put our
doubts into, this
glass facade-candle’s
whorl; opening up the sky
to God’s Kingdom,
Here the boils
of yesterday
and the blood;
bathe us in &
drown us in
sin’s requiem,
a steering into
the dead pool.
Only the purer
parts of us
are left behind,
bent on Hell’s
disruption & an
escape into
the inconsistency
of idealized
interpretation.