the names of flowers are letters of the enochian alphabet

(if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee

-nietzsche)

 

she exited bed sheets

unfolded her angel wings

donned her robes

flew into the expanse of the heavens

 

i remained where we fell

in the motel hell of my mind

next to the seamen stain

that had soiled her bedside

and slept till i was kicked out

at check out

 

still pulling on my shirt

i stumble and fumble to sidewalk

buy a bottle next door

regain the softness of concrete

 

shaking

i twist the top off my breakfast

light a cigarette

my apartment somewhere west

i head east

 

release drops into my red eyes

the only healthy thing

i will do today

under the indifferent sun

while i run headlong

or is it away?

 

find my syllabus of songs

select two tickets to paradise

eddie money

and know the honey that dripped

last night from her lips

will not equip the journey

of yearnings this song illicit

that love is enough

 

such thoughts are for the young

i just floated in her waters

till the lake evaporated

 

i spy an alley dumpster

confer with its filth

turn the bottle into

another empty river bed

but instead of tossing it

into the green container

i throw it against the wall

its fragments sprawl

amidst alley debris

where i know i will leave

a part of me

 

put a cigarette in my mouth

find, as i search for my lighter,

a pill i paid someone for

i forget what he said it will do

but i chew

then ignite my smoke

 

sidewalk resume

my eyes groom

the callous concrete containers

for another place

to buy another bottle

 

my thoughts drift to words

by umberto eco

“i have come to believe that the whole world

is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made

terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret

it as though it had an underlying truth”

 

or as woody allen said,

“i took a test in existentialism. i left all the

answers blank and got 100”

 

fuck it

 

my lifestyle has me unhealthy, sick

the grim reaper is on

the other side of the street

sockets fixed on me

waiting

 

the meaninglessness i mantra in my mind

leaves me suckling sadness

under sunny southern california skies

 

new bottle in hand

i will forget the care of my despair

and just drink until i feel better

 

i wink at the reaper

say,

“maybe tonight it will be your arms

in which i am embraced.

i will caress your bony face.

ask,

what took you so long?”

 

(i don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors

but i think that god’s got a sick sense of humor

and when i die i expect to find him laughing

-depeche mode)

 

***