macabre en concerto

head slammed
against a microscopic window
of rectang
they took my laces
and my belt ~
I`m left with padded screams
and teeth clamoring for a bite;
hands, they scent of the ocean
sunflowers some
              where     some
how
have riddled with the reefs …
poetry
in a zig zag paper
have blown pre caution
to the wind … I miss your maggot bliss
on a strawberry tinted nipple
and your pores
aged in musk have settled
with the dusk ~
I`m scared
unprepared … the creepy clown
has wandered back into
my down`d
                   town …
daddy, he
don`t hurt no more
and mama is buttering the spread
in spider-ant-roach-dust-mite dust …
I miss our lunch hour trysts
under the boogeyman vines
as you once played dracula on my neck
but those hickeys          they had
grown wings and minds of their own ~
flu from my flesh;
and what is it
with the ghosts in my darkness
silhouetted on a concerto stage
oh, yes I hear it now, the human macabre,
for rest still my un`sobriety heart
it`s just a passing     the urge
to kill and be killed in return …
but who`s blood is this stained on my hands
mascara dried and caked and smeared? … tomorrow
is the day for the deers, I shall run
as you ride shotgun in my mouth
beside that pitch black soul
in that bright white suit;
it must be sunny outside
because I had a dream
and you weren`t in it