nietzsche

Wet.

Let them be.
Let them be with their lewd pink spasms and choked up memoirs.
I wish to taste their bright screams like vanilla entertainment
and drink the thick orange nectar of their sweet lies .
I am kicking up the animal dirt and smearing politics from one arm to the other.
In her honor, over her shoulder.

Out of the corner of her mouth
pushes a red pill and a square.
Her eyes glaze over, sullen junk eyes.
I reach over and pull a strand of saliva off her lip
giving her a chance to move
Or cry out.
Or bite me in half.
This canary girl falls to the floor at my feet
Feathers spread out like soft skeletons
Her spine is crushed in and
her skin has yellowed from too many jungle boys.

Teeth, sunset, fevergrass.
Junk bubbles out of her open veins
and creeps toward me like a starving cat.
I put up my feet and play t.v corpse.
The growling juice mocks me and passes by.

Let them be
Between tied hands and gallows.
The boy looked out of gently swaying eyes
and reached around through the screen for my exposed neck.
He grins, and snaps it like a graham cracker.

I smile a reptile smile
and appreciate the subtle fire growing in my gut.
The flames lick my insides with tender tongues
Gently slicing away at anything within reach.
My flesh begins to fall off in wet chunks
The muscle peels back from bone like rind from a fresh lime.
The boy sheds his skin as well
and cuddles my organs to his chest like a newborn.

Let them be.
The Unthinkables and Overdosed.
Muted static monsters.
With everyone fucked by gasoline and matches
I refuse to believe a physical form is required.

Just think of it as meat packing in stereo.
The kingdom has been opened
to the Abused, the Forgotten
The spasmatic, pragmatic jittery gentlemen.
Everyone pretty and accustomed to hysteria.

Let them be.
Everyone join in the rain of flesh.
Strip down to pancreas and intestine
and swim through the writhing walls like holographic catfish
with holocaustic intentions.
Push open the front door into pig face.
Rip off pig nose. Steal pig gun. Throw in lake.
There is no use for weapons here.
Survival depends upon shut eyes
Aphex, defects, effects-
the position of the moon over Andromeda.

People commonly call out, as they stand
soaking in their own sucking chest wound,
for another loud tremor or two
to open up whats left and
play a smooth game of Tetris
with gallstones and synergy spirits.

I can taste your loathing pretty girl.
Can you taste mine?