SPIRALING

sometimes you just gotta write a bad poem.

lighting a candle is not quite littering, but close
a single smear of lipstick speaks volumes
there’s a sick smile stuck in my teeth
the mangled shell of desire, abandoned in the muck
it’s normal to eat lying flat on your face
& if you think it’s not
i don’t care
i’m honing my craft
it’s awful
sorry i’m a shambles today
i’ve fallen afoul of my bathroom lighting’s cruel lies
yet again
you’d think i would learn
the sunset used up all of my data
& i left my good side at home
suffice it to say, i’m a wolverine
the little gremlin of me sneaking about
salting the night

any person who refuses to shield their eyes
from the shine of my big fat jewel
will be branded a traitor from this moment onward
the human apparatus is a dim-witted highbrow
who communicates exclusively in scathing op-eds
& i, for one, am sick unto death of its crap
it’s all too common to find me dead in a parking lot somewhere
vibrating rapidly in place from the cosmic disruption
created by the many sins against me
you’d better hope i don’t find your stairwell
there’s no room in here for the well-adjusted
off with your nonsense, peasant
begone
sanity is a type of gross misjudgment
in which i will not be participating
but you go have fun in your little club

oh, to be a perfect cube of pine
atop my favorite hill
instead, we’ve got “jobs” & “emotions”
if that’s the way it’s going to be
i won’t be needing this mask
i’m going to spice up this wedding reception
i’m going to ramble around
i’m going to jump out of my bucket
& go into the world to do sick crimes
which are valued at double the points
of regular crimes
lock me up if you want
might be fun
i’ll still be keeping this crown
it’ll be the perfect accessory to wear
when i cut off my very own head
& rip the bandage off the end of the world
just you wait until i finish my coffee
i’ll carve my number into everything on earth