This is a Poem, Written by You

Excuse me.
I just need to ask you, kindly, with the utmost respect, boundless sincerity
Have I got something under my tongue?
In the roots of my teeth?
Maybe grass or scooby snacks
Or the thick, warm remains of your boyfriend's quiet moans
Or dusted glass, a coke can swollen with cocaine
Want some?
Nah- its cut with speed and chocolate milk
Your brain would shatter like the pop rocks
My bug-eyed goblins chew to keep from shooting up.
Amateur.
Go masturbate to your sequined vampires, your hairless werewolves
You can't eat your whole happy meal? - you're fucking useless
The patter of acid down the marrow of my bones taunts combustion
So just graze me with the tip of your clean matches and I'll blow up in fragments of Technicolor bone
Why so serious?

- Do you want me to tell a fucking joke? Do you want me to write poetry to make you sit still in shock and discomfort so you can justify your claims? I promise I won't surprise you. The elegant hedgehog begged me to keep quiet and fill the caving contours of your cardboard prophecies.

I dug a blind tooth in the auspicious flesh of my gums
Only because I was beating off to the sulfur and gasoline, the spoils of Afghanistan
Sorry.
They made me do it.
What's your excuse?
this is another one i wrote after i read a lot (too much) of ginsberg


Here is a poem, written by you

Excuse me.
I just need to ask you, kindly, with the utmost respect, boundless sincerity
Have I got something under my tongue?
In the roots of my teeth?
Maybe grass or scooby snacks
Or the thick, warm remains of your boyfriend's quiet moans
Or dusted glass, a coke can swollen with cocaine
Want some?
Nah- its cut with speed and chocolate milk
Your brain would shatter like the pop rocks
My bug-eyed goblins chew to keep from shooting up.
Amateur.
Go masturbate to your sequined vampires, your hairless werewolves
You can't eat your whole happy meal? - you're fucking useless
The patter of acid down the marrow of my bones taunts combustion
So just graze me with the tip of your clean matches and I'll blow up in fragments of Technicolor bone
Why so serious?

- Do you want me to tell a fucking joke? Do you want me to write poetry to make you sit still in shock and discomfort so you can justify your claims? I promise I won't surprise you. The elegant hedgehog begged me to keep quiet and fill the caving contours of your cardboard prophecies.

I dug a blind tooth in the auspicious flesh of my gums
Only because I was beating off to the sulfur and gasoline, the spoils of Afghanistan
Sorry.
They made me do it.
What's your excuse?

Punchline: I am.
I'm here to peel the rotting meat from around your nightmares
Feed it back to you,
raw and clean and dipped in nutella.
I'll burn your skin with my eyes
Let you lick the cracks in my collarbones
Reflect your lust through my carpeted eyes
But my cunt's laced with cyanide.
(don't say you didnt expect it- I'm the mica in the sidewalk, the shit for the flies. You pray for my absolution but you conjured me up out of your liturgies and the sinful space between your legs that bleeds onto your church pews. The moon won't rise without me. There is no holy pallor without the black drool of the damned.)
I'm fucking with you.

Is this the cheap effigy, the corroded tapes?
On playback when you're smacked, amped and strung?
When you're stoned and dry, cracked lips
Are you praying to me?
Don't wear yourself out, you asmatic marshmellow,
Pale and blue, melting bones and jellied flesh.
I love you the most when you're asleep.
Deep fried organs, marinating in smartphone radiation
Greedy for carcinogens, sticker stars and thick colloids
The milk from a beast you're afraid of wanting to screw

- Too bad you're lactose intolerant....

Don't smack the white house, sugar dust
You'll get cravings for God and strawberry ice cream
I'll teach you all about heroin if you let me be yours in hell.
Candyflipper

- Lucy's plastic stars
- And gaseous spinal fluid

Punch the phenomes of my heartbeats
With your mustard tongues
I don't give a shit!
Baby-
I'm just messing around, screwing with your head, twisting you up around the backbone of your own ideology
You want me to fostor your scriptures and lies. You need me to grant you this Freudian slip,
Marxist malentendre.
Do you know what that means? me neither.

I'm just a bloated mass of lipid grey matter
I'm just a boom and burst

- Thumbs and a mouth (opposable both)
- A creature of consumption (we should wear matching pajamas!)

I'm just a yellow liver
A pieced belly and painted claws
I'm just a dimebag of splitting, amorphous cells.
I'm just like you
But with a Kool Aid thirst

You think its fucked up? I'm just throwing up what you're hungry for.
Really. I couldve been a petal on a dry flower, a lamb and a virgin
I couldve held my breath, said please and thank you
couldve worn my hair in a ponytail and had my mother feel for fevers
I couldve blinded myself to my father's rage, to their naked bodies wavering before my eyes
Bruised and horribly human
Mommy and daddy and me. Graduations and weddings and bedtimes stories.
Oops?

I couldve slit my throat on the altar of your keyboard
And given you the pixelated, two dimensional sheet of my skin
But i'd rather grant you what you need to keep yourself safe.
I won't surprise, I won't disappoint.
I'l swallow every goldfish in your bowl to free up spce
And maybe someday you can join me in the thick water
Once you're ready to stop feeling special
Once you're ready to wear a scapegoat fur

I will live and die to keep you in peace
But when Jesus H. melts the iron key
And you're fucked - you cant reach the gates of purgatory
Don't come wailing for my frosted horns, my pointed tail, the blackness of my heart.
I will be sweetly drunk and pleasantly warm
In hell.
With my blankie and the vanilla flavor of my thumb and the smell of my dead mother's hair.