CW: references to death
(1)
Take me to the landfill
let us rot together.
Two bad apples R
O
L
L
I
N
G
down from different trees
that the worms abandoned,
left to the soil
left to be feasted upon,
crushed into insentient mush,
pungent passions perishing.
Let us decay:
watch as these bones
melt under pungent rivers
of soil and sand,
for we are merely
skeletons. Hard-hearted bones,
two scenes A
W
A
Y from something
that lasts past an end…
this will not last
this will come to an end.
Will you bury me?
Tie me up on the mortician’s table
and suffocate.
Oxygen cries in collapsed lungs
dry tears begging F
O
R you in
varicose harmonies.
Let me sing a strangled swan song;
make a weeping from your name.
The definition of the body
recoils before us;
stringent bacteria concede on this
half-gone flesh, hills of skin and
tissue rolling slowly, while this landscape
dies.
(2)
--and in showing a deliberate and obstinate desire to behave in a way that is
unreasonable or unacceptable and quite possible contrary to the accepted or expected
standard or practice:
it c-r-a-w-l-s along your spine
feelings slinking at the top
it all seems stressful
but I can see the individual bricks on the walls
d-e-m-a-r-c-a-t-e-d lines
and leaves are green
greening o-u-t in the graveyard
there’s the skim milk that
sours on the t-i-p of my tongue
curdles in tangible fumes, t-h-i-c-k on my / your / our / their lips
sordid defiance s-l-ick on my gums
grave
g-r-a-v-e-s
grave defamation
stone c-r-a-c-k-i-n-g on your teeth where the old
vile foul debased disreputable c-o-n-t-e-m-p-t-- leaves dry themselves out
--I know I was wanted so now I must spend the rest of my life proving I deserve-d it
tax the queers!
my debauchery is state sponsored
the degenerate L-I-E-S
contemptible wretched vapour rising
Dionysus invokes guilt, it’s obsessively compulsive, there is disorder, there is the
disassociate unsavoury, the savour the s-a-v-i-o-u-r of our time and--
in contrast I fully believe I like the part where I don’t have to look at their face-s
and I hug and I hold and I hold and I hold
Tighter every time because I always want to treasure our goodbyes this is far more important
than any simple inhale exhale yes sir no sir lady ma’am my liege and it goes and it says and
and
I love you I love you I love you
and I wish I knew how to write prose poetry rather than make my prose poetic because I have
so much to say in so little time AND they always say the best poems are the shortest one,
where all the important things are said in sparse breaks and perfectly imperfect structured
verse alas everything is important to me and I prefer text to words and it all seems stressful
but I can count the individual bricks on the walls where the leaves are still green with their
d-e-m-a-r-c-a-t-e-d lines—
(3)
want
transgression
sin of omission
ketamine
wrestle between the outrage
The multitudes of desire
Of wanting to be loved and to be liked
How to be pious when there is nothing to worship
Mould
Blue mould
Sky mould growing over the horizon line tattoo