Exertion
Exertion, suicide of the mind
putting forth effort, momentary discomfort
breeding fruit flies in a plastic cup.
How much longer can I hold it?
gratification is calling.
Under the bridge
runs cool water of lethargy.
Dreams of December
rebirth of the poetic mind
freedom from analysis
scrutiny, probing, probing
a fractured psyche.
Id comes alive
waves hit my eyes
waves of wasted hours
happiness and sweaty palms
stroking a pair of plastic cocks
dead skin encrusted in folds and veins
untouched for months
now warm, cooling, cooling
waiting for me to awaken
and never sleep
never dream of her brown hair
cascading over my chest
my dick sliding in and out of her
ah, ah, ah, ah, she says
I smile and grab her ass
thrusting harder, harder, harder don’t stop
I’m done, lie down for awhile
nude, happy, content
but not now.
Now I must exert myself
in ways I can’t cum to
ways, paths, alleys full of suicide windows
feral cats, rabies, scabies, disease and fecal rot.
I smelled death at a Taco Bell
it was on my breath the night of epiphany
1938 resurrected, tape recorder from Norway
The sound of knives chopping celery or human bones.
Baal’s Buffet
Walking up the stairs, I trip on my own brain stem.
Passionate cries from the closet cradle my broken pieces.
I’ve eaten and gorged and scarfed to satiation
But no amount of satisfaction could have saved me
From sweating bullets at noontime
Under heat lamps of radioactive frustration.
Castrated on the table at birth I was
But my foreskin remained intact.
I knew someday the tears would go away
But after the fact I’d return.
Back for more
A third plate of feast
A buffet of indulgence in the hypothalamus of the beast.
A Woman Whose Eyes I Didn’t Notice
Words seep out of my pen like pre-ejaculate
And pus from the urethral stricture
That has made me piss sideways for the past four years
The result of unloading loveless lumps of cum into a birth canal
Attached to a woman whose eyes I didn’t notice
Were detaching themselves from me
And my half-serious jokes about niggers
And my half-paranoid plans to keep her from leaving
To keep myself from realizing that her only purpose was to take my virginity
And that the public displays of titty grabbing, neck nuzzling, loin stroking
And groin fondling had run their course
To keep myself under the papier-mâché umbrella I had constructed
A wasp’s nest bursting forth with chitinous yellow demons
To sting the back of my psyche
Every time the matter-of-fact reared its head
Mandibles glistening with period blood
The blood missing from her pad the day we realized we had made a mistake
All because the pressure of the condom against my malformed urethra
Made urination an experience akin to a cat’s claw slicing my penis from base to tip
Not a far distance considering my dick is the size of an acorn
She even said so in her “goodbye, fuck you!” letter
Still somehow saved in the archives of Facebook
For me to read if I ever felt like gouging my eyes out with the tools they used
To silence the beating heart of the one who might have succeeded
In doing what I failed to do my entire life.
