Tachycardia

How to do my prayers and in my eyes
closed
do some sort of sex to Him and
in perfect elocution deliver my sorry's while
looking the Golden Boy some
model of chastity of
church whites of un-
impeachable character and
fondling myself and
sweating heavily about it and
thrice crossing constantly like it's my
fucking job to be safe while she
sucks me and my
constant
persecution mania and
these heavy brow strangers all
leering christ like thick shadows sea-
liner-size or bigger, and I
loosen my collar, have to,
my hands puff, she's bobbing
like some rapist piston and I
swallow one two and pass out

Drown A Dog

Sleep queen, queen of soil you are
more beautiful than I, I
fold my hands in silent shout in
nowhere protestation in
doubt in deed in between
orgasms of self I put out
a cloud of prayers hoping
two or three will be answered, and
that one of them is murder is
nothing to concern anyone.

On Trying

If I'm bad, at least I'm honestly bad. So yeah, I can sleep at night.

Sick sick sick.

Rich kids, white kids, 
rich white kids
pow pow pow.

Outside a circle

What will outlive me, everything, God made it that way, everything,
his story and your children and the brick and steel of our
collective chugging dream forward into

What will outlive me everything I ache now outlive me everything my
life's work is a

What will outlive you father, what will, there are a number of white seagulls
dead in your cellar and they will outlive you what

What will outlive me

Communication

Just because you can, doesn't mean you can.

Ellen

Sometimes I feel like the Ellen Degeneres show is just a shell game, or a sugary liquid medium by which we are fed some sort of sedative which allows the North American monster to slip into our homes and our wallets and our stomachs and our gas tanks while we are slowly absorbed into our carnivorous couches, fading, fading into virtual existence, spiritless, fat, oh Christ so fat on the decadent nutritional emptiness of Western secularism. 

Ellen you heartwarmth monger, you seller of ignorant bliss, you feelgood pimp, I salute you and your cunning machinations, or perhaps simply your brokerage of this Great American Decay.

Horse Farm

If horses run fast, why does glue run slow?

"Hey David,"

"She's so sexy but I bet she's a bitch or a black hole
or worse, some no sex before marriage Catholic."