psychosis in the young…

too good for you

these are the killers.
i play with them until the last one
dissolves in liquid or gets crushed.

this is the savior & the
savoir faire; bringing back
my waterdowneyes,
inveterate temperature
changes called out
of time. i’m told it’s math/
seems more like
chemistry straddling some
randomly chosen border
with biology.

re: our shared fluid;
disavowed by noon,
lied to earlier; speaking outofturn
’cause waiting to find
firm detail takes too damn long,
snakes too far;
junkies ain’t got
kindtime.

we’re smokin’ dope
with the windows open &
i’m out of ideas;
dependent on those big-
fuckers. in the sky,
brownbirds circle
above carrion meaning
nothingmore
than a good meal
& entertainment & death
& life & sex & birth & love.
nothingmore.

i play with ’em until the last one
dissolves in liquid or gets crushed.
eventually
trashed by continual application.
big boys big muscle
chimesin/
until recently hammered in shape.
resolved, fortunebest of
what’s available for ahand-up.
good enough
if you are
thirsty or
hungry
otherwise
too good
for you.

——————————————-

Dedicated to the time-wasting Mrs. Danger. You know I know you know, but I wonder if it registers. The only one I fear more is the Butterfly Bitch, and you’ll find out about her in a soon to be posted poem tentatively titled “Lessening Impact of the Butterfly Bitch” and already retitled. Will you notice it then? Doubtful. Shuffle by in time, as always.

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