experience needed

cunt wannabe

the fake tie

aint foolin

Them

 

work

you can’t work

when They tell you

there is

no work

for YOU

 

you’re disposable

when your fashion

runs dry

when the degree

no longer

fits the culture

 

no peace of mind

piece of shit

 

rent due

the plants have died

landlord of the doldrums

knocks

make quiet

 

famous on the stage

the speech

full of hope

now plagued

with doubt

now

only famous in squalor

the tenant

with the friendliest rats

 

you haven’t paid

those dues

lazy millennial

take

the

pain

 

take it in the ass

play the game

learn the riddles

pay up front

in blood

 

fresh flowers

adorn your grave

that GoFundMe

paid for

typing out nonsense

or is it?

i’m thinking fuck

I write fuck

a thousand fucks across the page

we are fucked

i need to get fucked

 

wonder what it would be like

to go down on those

who walk tall

in an eternal slumber

not aware

would it be taking advantage?

sloppy seconds

they’re already fucked

 

you can’t call them anybody

anyone

maybe nobody’s

no bodies

they’ve fucked themselves

 

those with faith

are weak

they play pretend

stop praying

that little boy died of cancer

his parents are fucked

 

teen punks

snort coke

slap veins

and tie off

their bed

tiled floors

porcelain god

full of shit and puke

the welcoming pillow

that dirty father fucked them

 

 

the demented weirdo

fucking 70’s

sits down to coffee

they just want him to leave

1 dollar

the coffee might last him

a few hours

maybe there’s a burger waiting for him

in that back alley

drink the coffee fast

you make them uncomfortable

they leave half eaten plates

they are future fucked

 

the crippled

and ugly

are allowed

in small doses

unwritten rules

dictate ruthless bitches

grotesque beauty standards

matte finishes

rebel red

those poor animals

they’re fucked in cages

 

screaming mouths

etched out words

on burnt soil

the angels

sin on earth

when humanity

doesn’t give a fuck

 

 

 

 

Ms. Ratchets patronizing, flicking that sticky finger at me

“Wake up Mr. Lucidity” ……………………………

Reality was not clarity but how long could I play the game in disguise

 

Us, the writers, the artists those crazies alike embrace the malevolence

To experiment and commit to the empathy from the horrors of apathy

We hold hands with the bitches of bloody sin and bury ourselves in puke

We’ll eat fresh blood from humans and make love

Taking metal and rape and hunger to expose

 

Our love is barbaric to them, but a love affair to the insane

We’ll drink in the monsters and sing with junk

Banter can be found between walls, stained sheets, sticky cunts

Nicotine screams dripping from walls

As the lady drips amongst us from lonely rancid rooms

 

We, the ones who suffer to the wills of man, howl blood amongst the bearer of red ties

We. the ones who crucify ourselves on loomed couches and to the breasts and sweat of one night stands.

 

We, beg not for death. Instead waiting listless for life to cease.

Femininity pools in rich crimson around the wasted mother’s feet

The warped clocks wane with futility and fate ticks

Dead eyes from the young spring musical notes in gold

 

In the oust, flames wreck through buildings

I shave in red light to hide the blood

Roxanne pays tribute on her knees

 

I write from heaven after they told me I wouldn’t

I write sex when Jesus turns around

Not of guilt, his laughs would deafen

 

The perfect fuck is always the next girl

The one who’ll never

 

Glory holes fill manic pleasure

Cocks belonging to others

 

Green pigs in suits suck off machines

Black bowler hats and blowing smoke

 

Open wide pretty mouths are always tempting

Sharp tongues spit snakes and candy breath

 

I scream within a scream

I stifle rosy cheeks, oily sweat amongst the acid high

 

Anger management is planting trees on earth day

And tonguing pink velvet on the nights I melt