Fear and Loathing in a Stranger's Bed
It's just one of those things.
Like candle wax dripping over
ants, dumb struck numb tongues
flung over ones shoulder.
Perhaps I stood, stricken at the notion:
Nature, stopped dead in her tracks
in red wax
follies, blind and unbreathing
scolded eyes for to see
And I witnessed it all, just because
there was a lag on the oxygen. I imagine
cocaine scriptures, casting automoton sculptures
with a cracked cigarette in my mouth.
It won't last forever, you've got to come down.
a beating heart's syndrome, stuck in place.
Lungs breaking breath, like bed sheets tearing.
It won't last forever.But what if it does?
She's ticking backwards, a
melting Dali, painting atrophied clocks.
Marching like ants to an extreme.
This arduous, and unexcused groping
blaming love that blame had blossomed
she doesn't like it when I touch her hair
but she'll take me into a back room and fuck me.
And smother affection like a column of insects
trailing rivulets of OJ
Slowing down everything to a junk.beat
heart pulling too much weight, beneath her
eyes on her blind-eyelids, thinkin'
when this is all over,
When(if) this is (ever)all over
it's just one of those things.