have you forgotten where you belong
or is your prolapsed mouth shaped
like a petalled cup on purpose? can
you sense the empty seething in my
slimy dripping nose, or would it be
better if we started fresh to be certain
no one learns the truth? that you’re a
cat & I’m a rat but I’m mean & rabid
& leaking bile from my petalled jaws
like Gacy’s rubber boutonniere? I’m a
crayon map without a compass, chance
instructions shaken like shitty one-ply
smeared to your thumb; a rich, oil paint
abstraction lacking purpose or meaning,
true to hazy skies, heart red soil & lava
spurting like accidental zygotes created,
gestated, birthed, & delivered to the door
of horny nuns in nine hours flat, or your
order’s free—plus cheesy garlic bread, on
the house. just please don’t say anything to
my manager. did you want to leave a tip?
flight path
gentle wails of
descent like
everything’s
ending, air to
ground ground
to air. earth’s
molten core
slipped free
from the shale
& sizzling soft
as it orbits
the moon.
Oral History of a Three Week Lifetime
at what point do memories of a
moment slip to strictly mythic?
told & retold by generations of me
to progressively disfigured clones,
a self-flagellating game of ill-
intentioned telephone that
serves none but bloodthirsty
fans of sleepless musings.