The Tyrant King

Beelzebub in my  
bedroom
 
champagne in the
nook
 
you’ve got me fucked
up right now
 
there are bees in the
Livingroom
 
blood and guts and
viscera all along  
the vista
 
you weren’t going  
to win
 
you were going to call
your mommy
 
I’m living in the  
Hagakure
 
you weren’t pure
 
you were putrid
 
an acrid putty to  
be molded
 
I’m smoking better
weed now
 
I just can’t be beat
 
I was god’s favorite
plaything  
 
and anything that came
before was gravy and
holy water
 
grifters telling you about
snakes
 
you not wanting to be
overrun by a knave
 
you come to believe that
this fink behavior is  
what got them ahead
 
you smoke more weed in
an attempt to feel better
 
you were racing against
a losing clock
 
the winners were already
fucking all the hotties
 
you were in the bathroom
imagining it
 
massage my chin, titty-
licker
 
to be in a city this slick  
with rain
 
friend-zoned and alone
 
property sex, death, and
taxes
 
the trick was to quit
 
everything and anything
 
did I love it that much that
I could be a broke asshole  
my whole life?
 
I couldn’t figure out my
next move
 
should I stay on this
path where I was  
two different
people?
 
or commit fully to one?
 
writing down the question,
I knew the answer, and  
so do you
now