Monday, March 5, 2007

the cunt of mary

hey you over there with your cracked pavement
stare and comet shadow dark rings around those
eyes. do you have the time i don/t think this
fucking subway is going to get me there on time!
get you where on the time? well, right to the tiger
jaw of hell. right into the beating, grandfather tick
of the machine! right into gods sandstorm raw throat
from screaming to his god! right into the cunt of mary!

the subway came after all was said and done and the graffiti
and rats and tape-less posters squinted from the raping
light of the car; wheels screeched like blackboards; asshole
eyed teachers laughing a laugh of enternal bleeding, "sorry
kids, I know you guys all hate that noise!!"
bloody run-over rats like modern art in the stinking, summer
sleep-less subway.

The subway rattled and swayed from side to side
like a mining car wisping through similar tunnels
of dirt and the subway sort of glowed and radiated
despite the everest mountains of filth and sin and
small bags of powder that are pretty fun i guess but
would be better if you could make snowballs and snowmen
out of them. but anyhow no one was in the right state of mind
anyway so he figured he'd try to ruffle up a revolution of some
sort but no one was quite in the mood to overthrow the United
States government so he closed his eyes tight as a clam and
pretended he was in the titantic. thought of the water icy
as a snow angels blowjob and just sort of got that falling feeling
in his stomach. With closed eyes there was no world but a mind.
and what a glorious world that is.

the sun revolves around the earth there.
you could fall off the edge if you
rode your ship to the tight pink hugging
purple horizon.
everyone fell in love and won an oscar for
their outstanding performance.
applause rises like bethoveens 8th and he can
hear it. He can hear everything. Hes talking and
laughing as he gets chills from giving chills; contagious
like AIDS, contagious like love bugs and hiccups.
with eyes closed one can't die. Nothing can't harm you
in a dream. Mom used to always whisper that when the nightmares
lined up like rotting, dead fish along the rotting, dead shores.

He missed his stop with a smile on his face.
When he finally opened his eyes, it burned like
stepping out of a drawn-out movie into the kicking,
screaming, rabid mid-day sun.
The world and all its fleas are nothing but
a ball of clay rolling between a quickly dying
mans fingers.
the buffet of faces sat across from him, next to him,
and he couldn't find it within himself to believe that none
of them had ever seen a ghost.

No comments: