cosmopolitan cocaine laxative
Quite along time now, held captive
in my own psychosis. In the dreary
absence of realities wet womb’s paling stockade.
Peeling away at the skin. Peeling away for
the marrow at the bone of sanity’s superficial sanctity. Growing closer and closer to slithering into
an absolute pharmaceutical daydream.
. Metal squid line the sky in the corner
of my eye but when I look they swim
right back into my skull. Great god those
things are fast and they grow even bigger
with lack of sleep I assume.
A cosmopolitan cocaine laxative and the presidents a silly
war monger lapping up the milk of the texan supremist notion.
A masochist of thought and a macabre arsonist of the mind
where the neurological flowers can’t grow but insane,
the small declacies of burning afghan children opening their
mouth for bombs.