This is Going to Heal...I Promise

in an effort to die
my shaking hand
holding the knife
in hopes
that this wound
could really sanctify
this sick
heart
of mine

Our State

he ruined us
you will save us
from the shit that we've wrecked
the shit that was already dead
but not you
you are alive
and you will keep us from the grave
you will help us remember
how invincible we are
we will reign supreme
we have a higher sense of self
we have no need for all those petty things
we have a Christ
and we've named him
actualized
and
tolerance
and
peace
and
social justice
and
sustainability
but it will not
sustain anything
at
all

...concerning the sons of men

it felt like a hiccup
and we were gone
only silhouettes
on a bloody lawn
just a massacre
of flesh
stomping
and
stomping
endlessly

The Jello Biafra Jesus

is bleeding to death
along with this violence
coming into existence
spitting gospels
that fade
away
just like
bad news
always
does

Sleeping With the Enemy

come on in
lie me down
and take everything
in this fucking house

in the morning...

i will be rich
i will be powerful
i will be fuckable
i will be complete

in this unforgivable pose
i take my own life
and i let you go

Passion in Your Bones

on the floor in the kitchen
was a bloody mess
the one that we left
after we took an oath
to leave home
to finally disperse
all of our final words
before the leaving of this
hole in the ground

for all the sweaty back-seats
and the skin between our teeth
and the foreign land
that we've been exiled to
for this old place
now seems new

there's this bastard in my step
but it's all i have left now
and this crooked stare
into this hopeless page
that i had at once laid to waste
my hope to swallow bourbon
and spit out a fucking miracle
that would bleed this hypothesis dry
that before we are born
we all must die

I Live in a Whores Heart Fucking Myself to Sleep

as the sweat from your forehead
drips
and syringes are buried
along with
that thing
that horrible fucking thing
i used to call my soul
and after you've plugged
every hole
this fucking thing
i just cannot bear no more
will take me
and my life away
and even on the
day you leave
i will regret
the long days by
the river
where i found a deep peace
that swells in my heart
and rips this
weaving bedroom door
and cuts through the mattress
made of my own lungs
breathing guns
made from the clay
heart
that once beat in this chest

now i get dressed
and walk out the door

Poetry is for Fags and Chicks

it seems like a pretentious novella
in the way that you entered the room
like you were exiting the womb
and you reveled in it
like the books
that go from cover to cover
and go hand in hand
with the lies
that you tell your mother
and your lover
and your wife
and your friends...

Dear God,

please tie all my loose ends

7:26

growing tired of
this frail whore
of a body
giving some
but taking
more
than ever

in this bone marrow wreck
crashing
into the sound
that glimmers
like a fucking
miracle

growing tiresome
in this cage
we called a home
just north of where
my heroes sleep
awaiting death...

...just like me