les yeux sang visage

feasting with an evil clown

on the carcass of my existence

we stab our forks into

the meatiest part

which gets torn apart

as we struggle for sole possession

but in his obsession

he stabs my forked hand

and beats me into submission

begins eating the flesh on my face

as i gasp at the pleasantry of the pain

 

realizing i have only moments left

i select

“jane says”

by jane’s addiction

slip a plug into an ear

just want to hear this song

one more time

 

i rhyme:

“purple priest practice perversion

i was once part of their immersion

until my conversion to

the dark streets of decay”

 

nowhere is the ashtray emptier

then in the car i’ve never owned

i roam where only evil clowns reside

half of them hell bent on suicide

the other half can’t decide

if white linen really can provide

the perfect home

 

stoned on prescriptions

doctors are the new dealer

no longer healers

as they rush from room to room

load them up on lithium

let the insurance pay

for their new porsche

 

anyway

either way

i enhance the decay

with a co-pay

and stray

onto alleys and streets

with feet filled with

blood vessels

which circulate

the high

prescribed or otherwise

throughout my whole body

 

these words

on barstools or curbs

are all i really want to do

and will uncork any brew

that un-encumbers the inhibitors

until my molten core

is flowing free

 

***