Monday, February 22, 2016

hidings.

god- there is a god- his favorite color is blue. he likes mediocre shit
and spreading an agenda. he needs the agenda

or else we find out this plasticity doesn't sound all
together consistent, says this therapist. and at his sundownings, that

ball of flaming boring shit, he does weird stuff in his sky
that he ought save for the bathroom or his special sheets.
he comes all over the goddamned place. he fucks up the mechanics
of his cheery factory and oh it strikes me down i am broken hearted
now shrinking a shrinking
violet oh. i am dying i will come back next year. but this

is no flower poem. this is a sex poem. this is about sex as a prayer
to myself as an animal. get me out of this. get me out
of this. get me out of this. only if i have sex with myself will i
not be raped i keep bein' raped how ya wanna stop your rape

god. i suppose i better build an altar, get on my knees, and suck
some dick more dick all the dick so much dick that i
cannot handle and i wind up in a no-smoking commercial
for people who cannot talk without voice boxes

"help me" i say
"support rape" i get dubbed out with