by Poetry

there were times
               late at night
when I needed you

                              just an arm’s length
               away & so far gone

for fear of waking
               I crept away
& walked home & sat
a decapitant
                        on a metal bench
outside the converted church

                              where could I go
               then for my conversions

                              where could I rest
               heavy hands & long
                              for the cool breath
               of the holy

in the rain suddenly
               false teeth retching
cigarette smoke

                              I pretend not to smoke
                              I barely pretend
               to breathe

took heroin last night
               the first time
in years I think
I’ve forgotten how
               to be high
forgotten how to
be an addict

I bought red wine
from a 24/7 & left it
sitting beside my bed
               I can open it anytime
I only need to need
a corkscrew
more than I need to sleep

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modern poetry


I have no song to sing
knowing that songs last forever
almost silent on the wind
I consider my wings
beating silently at the door
of eternity

Morts Anglais

Lovers kissed, beneath us, passionate
their clothes no impediment to the universe – haute
once, now shuddering with greater dishevelment &
royalty; their lips were everything,

Poster-Painted Gold

Hurray for barely comprehensible gibberish using the layout of poetry! I think it’s time, time to butcher loyalty. Time to murder and, in that murder, create. To take these things which have seen me at my worst and waste them, until their watchfulness abates. To pull...


on certain nights
when there was no hope
& all the radio stations played
Bela Lugosi’s Dead
on repeat
stretched out the chained drums