ER Night
hear the broken silence
breaking hard and jagged,
cries of small child
frightened under bright
fluorescence. smell rotten
stench of decaying fag
beside me, dying of pneumonia,
spattering the floor with
contents of his stomach.
they keep rolling in. 3
freshly raped little black girls,
confused at the confusion
surrounding them. 2 drunk
teens who drove through a house,
1 minus legs and the other minus
face, little shit faced girlfriend
shrieking hysterically, trying to
wipe the blood off her hands. got
'em lined up in the hallways, in
chairs, on stretchers and beds,
mouths all moving uselessly,
nothing works.
the cubicle keeps getting a little
smaller, the walls are sweating and
the curtain has two dark bloodstains
like hungover eyes staring out. x
rays keep coming and going.
kid brought in gang wound to the head.
lady next door keeps wimpering about
her bladder bag and the girl next to her
pisses all over herself, screaming the
whole time.
doctor finally says you ain't going to die
pal and the filthy night air hits the face
hard on the way out.
Somewhat Warped Observations
I sit here comfortably drunk, smoking
cigarettes and staring at people rather
blatantly. The lights seems somewhat
harsh but I squint and it's not too bad.
Besides, everything is blurred. You
noticed people a little more clearly in
that condition. The snouts are a little
larger, the horns a little sharper, the
hooves more well defined.
People tend to get nervous when you
stare at them. They are racked with
enough insecurities as it is. They always
look away, glance back quickly and
look away again. Some part of them
melts and as they attempt to gather
themselves, their flesh forms puddles at
their feet. Once I wanted to speed the
process along and tried to light a buxom
brunette but it didn't work and she
wasn't overly receptive and it really
doesn't matter.
There's a big whole in these people, even
the long-legged ones, and they eat and
eat because they don't want to die; at
least they want to revel in their misery
for one more day, and they look back at
me with suspicious eyes and then they
go back to their dead life and dream of
peace and love and compassion and I
continue to stare at them in a drunken
stupor.
Dead Horse Lake
dreamin
dreams of a dead horse lake
content in its complacency
of moldy mattresses
rusty razorblades
a certain
sickness of the soul
when my lover wakes she tells
me of her dreams flowers
resplendent in their blooming
delicacy
I have nightmare
a dead horse lake
society on the edge
murders and guns
of being chased by
the Dark Man
big brother in a
land of apathetic
entities and oh my
friend reality is often
little more than a mirror
reflecting visions made
of ice and steel
cold
permanent
and carefully
contrived.
dreaming of a never to be seen prime
aging ex
beauty queen w/
death march make up covering
year tracks
(can still sling 'em
w/ the best) orders anti-aging
coffee at counter
diggin deep into Louis
V whilst plain jane looks on
somewhat wistfully tormented
face
twisted
by that
which she
can't have.
retro
it's
part of the new way
i heard it on the radio
the new deal
folks
violence
for a violent generation
and none of this
candy coated shit
either
they
found a little girl
been chained in her
closet six years
father clit whipped
her every day
Tyson said he didn' t
hurt her
i mean
no black eyes
no broken ribs
funny
violence doesn't occur
unless useless visible
body blood pouring
out of shattered
flesh courtesy of
street legal Uzi's
because "GUNS DON'T KILL
PEOPLE PULL TRIGGERS"
sure
asshole
a child sees 7 acts of
random violence per half
hour of cartoon programming
and we wonder why we're the
Degenerate Generation
and
Bush screeched about
New World Orders
kinda like 19th
century world orders