absurd peephole

two eyes

in between
two sides
of the abyss

looking back
& weeping

gazing ahead
& trembling

two eyes

sandwiched
between
two slices
of darkness

shut them
tight tonight

close the absurd
peephole

staring down yr wounds

i remember once
a few years before
her death
my grandmother
had an operation
& afterwards the doctor
wanted her to look
at where the long incision
was on her side
to confront the stitches
but my grandmother refused
she never looked
she said that knowing it
was there was enough
& i understand her fear
it's one thing to know it's there
but to confront the zigzag
zipper of stitches sewn
into the skin
to stare down yr wounds
to braille yr scars
is something else, yes, it is
something far different

bombs & splinters

i've
never
known
that
thing
called
"safe
&
sound"

how
could
one
be
safe
w/a
heart
in
one's
chest

a
ticking
blood
bomb
we
bear
from
birth

& sound

what
a
laugh

that
3lbs
of
gray
mush
full
of
the
splinters
of
living
can
never
be
anything
but
mad

bugs climb my abyss

there
are
kafkaroaches
running
up
&
down
my
arms
while
i
lay
in
my
sartretude

their
absurd
antennae
itching
my
nothingness

at the back of the cell called the world

some nights i want
to take a tin cup
& run it along
the cold black rungs
of cemetery gates

a prisoner of Life
begging to be released

but the warden, Birth, snickers
& the ugly human guards
swing their nightsticks

i am dragged to the back
of the cell called the world

& fire-hosed w/ennui
& agony

love & furnaces

it is an evolutionary advantage
to understand what causes pain

but it is neither hot coals
nor red stove-top coils

it is flesh-upon-flesh
the flames of love
that really make skin scream
scar the human shape
over & over & over

baudelaire's ghost is better than the sandman

i couldn't sleep
4 a.m.

i shut my eyes
cursing

that's when baudelaire's ghost
showed up

he had some poor shit's soul
under his one arm & in the other
a phantom cheese grater

he kept shaving soul motes
over my face

sprinkling flakes beneath
my weary lids

& as my eyes grew heavier
he began whispereing
misanthropic slogans in my ear

"the body isn't a temple
it is a shithouse"

& so on & so forth...

i awoke at 11 a.m.
rewired like a motherfucker

some notes upon my sickly crew

my Suicide has lost both
its physique & its mystique
it lags hind me now
an obvious ugly cow

my Birth crawls at my heels
its one big tooth a constant reminder
digging into my Achilles tendon

my Madness walks
arm in arm w/me
i elbow it in the ribs
when its sneaky other hand
tries to pickpocket
the sane parts of my brain

my Love collapsed
miles & miles back
i attempted to give it CPR
it puked in my mouth
& then died

my Loneliness rides
heavy upon my shoulders
grinding its sad gray crotch
against the back of my skull

& my Death, ah my Death
is wagging its sweet ass in front of me
i keep kicking it a few feet ahead
not quite ready for its hot lapdance
full of maggots