Sunday, July 25, 2010

the Buffalo


black and pink pigs sit at tables
Talking about nothing or
Simply lost in a waking sleep
The young sucklings taking it all
In.

I shovel shit colored mudd into
My mouth using whatever's closer
A fork or spoon. Shrimps. Severed
Chicken legs. Where are the feet
I can't stop crying.

I'm absolutely Dead inside
and full of thoughts
Of you with your blue eyelids
And wide mouth. Your skinny shoulders
And big hands.

The wind of you
Has filled the sky with feathers
Making it hard to breathe or sleep
I've won all the money but i'm still
alone in my heart

alarms sound victory
Throughout the casino
God puts a cigarette in my mouth
Death cannot touch me
The whores call out

my name From the shallows
They'll suck my wet cock
For nothing tonight Even though
nothing is ever free
Here in buffalo

And there you are always
the time it takes to shoot a gun
When I open my eyes for a moment
At 4 in the morning with the blankets
Binding me to the broken bed

The burning feeling of dread
in another boat
Your lips and skin covered with
Pimples and moles black
Like the moon

your back With it's bandage
and blemished surfaces
The sweat under your mouth
I've tasted the sky there
And my plane has no place to land

I'm crashing into the moon
A black breathing
The black breathing of Air
The black smoke of your mouth
and black kisses




4 comments:

Aaron said...

fuck

Ginger said...

I SUCK at understanding poetry, but it doesn't sound like you had the best time in Buffalo. Sorry about that, they just haven't caught on yet...

Beth said...

I didn't think it was possible. But you turned it up a notch. Holy shit!

theflowersays said...

wow...i clicked on almost a year ago...how'd that happen...guess it was what I needed....some company in my misery ! never fails, your always there in a wierd way...xox

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