Underworld rosary whispered on
black beads of sweat…
Last night I met an angel who told me
bedtime stories have got no rules,
now I’m fighting in the dark against a rat
in sheep’s clothing
It’s my cloudy eyes bewildering me,
frontier hate burning in Hell
choosing death as the only escape…
Don’t try to intervene,
Me, it’s Me continuing,
consuming the activating force,
the frozen, passion-killing machine.
Your sunburn is setting your hair on fire,
the big show desire is finally a success.
After the neighborhood holocaust
and you still can’t bring yourself to kiss
a girl on the lips,
Break the flesh shell, pull your skin down
to the bone…
strong-boned, delicate flesh stepping off the
curb is born for Love in a world of shiny
monsters only to be crushed;
these are the hard facts, the invisible
compatriot bomb wounds in vulnerable beds –
second-to-second recovery prevents everything,
the mind-razor wakes you up,
and you forget the dream-fuck.
Is the contest against the animal or the clock?
Is luck-of-the-draw a condition or a gift?
How far can you push?
Can’t we get this stuff on film?
Screaming for justice in the bedroom furnace
and a sleepy car ride through rush-hour traffic
Honey, you’re my antidote to history.