(or "Fucked Up as a Football Bat")
I kiss the mist &
listen for that highway hiss
while snorting a portal
to the chortle loose
& whoring to a dooring
where karmic floorings
rise suboxone skies.
All I need is a breed
in cement & resent
the weekend after the amber
of the fourth of July:
a net worth whet works by
a grind resigned to breathing powder
louder than crows
& half a loo
fills the kidney screws
where I'm black & blue & tried & true
& tin to the streets with a rail for pain.
A dirty rocketship rockskip
dancing a slip off the broken strip
& soaking on the leaves
& bringin' in the sheaves
with a babe-teething ease...
lightning grease in a smokestack gleam/
glamour in tanks with fumes to scream
the strain of the coil that is my turmoil
turns my thoughts into oil
(like goat piss into gasoline)
burned in turn like earned recoil-
a real good feel-good stays my sword
at the word of the lord
& the lord
& the lord...
I shall want for the saunt' or gaunt in the haunt
or dream for the beam 'long these endless roadside blooms
where I get so attached to the brick-ed-ly black
& the stack I lack for eternal wrack
within mobile tombs 'til shotguns womb...
I hist my kiss & listen for a full moon blur,
snorting a rail to those forgotten trails.
All I breed is a need for rambling spells
& a network
grinding by subutex skies.
Louder than the loneliest sound,
I have to hang my thang & twang a twist
on my wrist to bleeding grounds…