there is a loneliness that can be rocked.

the knowledge that is me.

In a drunken benediction
I stumbled across state lines and illuminated boundaries,
Over crippled fairy tales and anointed rape,
In smug knowingness
Of killing the world in a word; and fucking minds where the ink
-- dries.

I stumbled with blinkless eyes
Down the road to where the dashed lines fearfully stopped,
An unknown that beckoned;
Though it were from within.

Phantom footfalls mockingly shadowed
The edge of my thoughts, as
Longing screams cradled my daylights
And silenced my nights.

In the darkness that spawned
The infidelity of minds,
And washed your outline to gray;

I stand rooted

Unsure, unknowing, unaware;
Of the next footstep
Of the next hope
Of the next corruption

as I rang the sky with my strangled cry.

a night at the opera

The Bone Fire

the tribal drums
wail
to honour their
gyrating gods.

more religious
than
religion, desperation
celebrates this

trance of
hue and heroes
drenched in
tequila.

flesh on flesh
as soul
gulps for unsoiled
innocence.

nuns of
indonesian air,
worshipping a world
clear as smog.

impotent hunters
with blunt
spears for
heads

lay
broken traps
for
willing

prey.

this is the stench of humanity.