Tuesday, January 17, 2012

page 67

people who want to help me in a fight being a competitive liar she said her brother was caught in the fallopian tubes she is looking for her silent and infinite control imagining herself in a boat floating by someone else’s control a malevolent wind or some such force that she cannot identify she needs company and she is too afraid to say so beating her head against the wall there once was this woman who lived in Philadelphia I think she might have worked for the paper she would read my poetry and say that my words spoke straight to her heart she was looking to find something from my words I am not quite sure what strength maybe it could be courage I don’t know maybe hope I couldn’t find such things in my words but she did they spoke to her in a way that they didn’t speak to me isn’t that strange there are others who said that it seemed like I was writing about them and their lives but I wasn’t I was writing about something else or someone else I was a million miles away but they said it was like I could see into their hearts and their minds like I knew what they were thinking people are always seeking something some may have an idea what it is they are seeking an others don’t have a clue some want a burden to be lifted from their hearts their lives are a puzzle that refuses to be solved they want to make an exchange a barter with life and love Maria bends over and I slide the Thomas theorem inside her dying in the alley from an overdose of mother superior she is covered in the graves she has on Amish clothes and Redwing boots Maria is chewing on the devil’s claw and she beats the starving orphan with her little club Maria keeps telling herself that this is not a movie that her teeth have been whittled into little skulls she was going to run over the mailman with her Toyota station wagon she doesn’t know how to say hello I’m pouring the bottle of mad dog down her throat helping her to see visions and stepping in the footsteps of her ancestors when they first got off the boat in Boston someone dropped the money into the ocean and they had to hustle for some food and a place to stay this is Maria’s inheritance as she hustles for a dollar so she can go buy herself some plastic beads from the dollar store she bites down on the beads to see if they are real once she has finished the bottle she slips back into her fog she has the soul of a boy buried deep in her black heart Maria takes a shit in the middle of the street and shapes it into a sculpture of god she is born under the sign of hypocrites and she worships the appearance of evil she pulls from the bong like bob marley she is pro at injecting the vein I watch her in her cage as she dances for the little boys they throw coins at her as she dances she has pledged her allegiance to the catholic church and she knows how to swallow jesus Maria is a filthy whore she gave up her vows for a stiff cock I thought I could leave her alone but I couldn’t I had to sit on her lap and let her whore moans out she would lean over and let it dribble out of her mouth she will never get to disappear she lives under our beds and in our closets I undress for you as you play with my darkness you swallow up everything both evil and good she touches me until I explode she moves herself all over me putting my fingers into her ugly places naming all of our kills my dick is hard and throbbing she treats it like a holy relic like it is the cock of god she worships me with her vagina her cunt is a church where she worships god I am the host I am the body of

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