(what’s behind the black hole)
(while we lose all control)
so confused, so lost with these comings and goings and ends of times
The ozone layer is healing while
my fragile face is peeling and
we aren’t all going to die, but I might, all while
my liver is screaming:
oh please, oh, don’t let me fall through!
—but I’m so sorry, darling, but I just don’t care about you!
You, my dear, will never keep me warm, so what's the point?
And today I discovered I’m just the id, (soul malnourished)
prematurely hurled into the city brimstone,
just crawling around and up and down,
scavenging, ravening for chemicals in a cold void
these tasks I’ve been avoiding
will stalk me down, probably snap my neck and kill me,
but I can’t stop and I never will
And I guess I do savor these years, these days,
and I guess I accidentally put myself into a trance today, so
what do you think of that, Doctor?
what do you think of all of this
see the way I’m trying to keep up, trying to stay
trying to make things linger
as long as possible, trying to keep them
the way they are, now and forever
while I’ve still got my parents’ money
to keep me warm
and how will this plot armor last me
until I breathe my last, well, when will that be?
until my public perception (timē) beings to fade
you see, I see myself as a Roman man, and it’s all about the Rumour
yes, your Honor, I’m afflicted with this (organizing all my problems in writing)
yes, your Honor, I tend to get metafictional with it
it’s all on purpose, I swear
not a trailblazer—
on the contrary, I have an allergy to being merry
and I could use some Mary Jane,
but it's more like Jane Eyre up in here—very psychosexual and very depressing.
but give me a sip of
water and Christ's Blood
and I do just fine, I turn out alright
now and forever,
by the rising of the moon or
coasting the daylight,
I end up alright,
I end up fine, like,
I’ll just dress like a vampire
and pretend I’m still alive
and all you pretty people won't suppose a thing
Just please don’t think of me
when things get dark.
When the city lights fade,
when we all get our dues
and I trip and fall (real fuckin’ ugly) and lose the race,
just trust that I’m alone, far out,
away from here.
Far away from all of you
I fall.
my body will be flat and cold
worms crawling in and out of orifices
finally paying my debts, out of my head,
finally not artificial
but I won’t be able to write about it
from my place
here upon the wood
you wouldn’t guess it
but I’ll be immaculate
alone and nailed down and reveling,
a happy little masochist, so happy forever
this is the game and this is the way we play it
and this, this exact thing,
is my secret strategy of the best way to lose it,
it’s contained in the text, self effacing,
if you breathe between the lines
this is the way I lose it
this is the death knell, the final fall,
this is Paul and his horse,
sending signals, a harbinger
and then this is Paul and four more
this is apocalypse
good God, I won’t live like this
but I do every day, every single wretched day
one vice to another, I switch subjects like
the seasons, like the wind, like my hair
and you needn’t worry about caring about me
I am a semblance of subjectivity
I am a lost attachment, an assemblage of all
these things of all these things
I could have been (never)
and the horrific incarnation I am now
and is any of that worth something?
little hit of pleasure when I get a word right
but it’s never quite enough
I have aged beyond my years
(less like a fine cheese more like an offensive joke)
(i've been laden with stale trauma)
(read that out loud and smile and frown)
I could be perfect, I could be worthless
but I’d never know
I’d never know Genesis from Revelation
big bang and then a whole lot of tragedy
same thing, right
left from right, sugar, I don’t know them
but don’t leave me behind,
don’t leave me behind when you rise,
any of you
I know I’m dated
and I know things are about ready to end
but if any of you forget me,
I’ll die hard with a vengeance and I’ll come back and
make you lot regret it
I’ll make you pay
with your sweat and with your teeth
and you never believed me,
but I’ll be back
and I’ll make you bleed
if you doubt me, if you forget
I’ll make you eat your sins
believe me, I’m some sort of ordained—
a sinister minister, far from the ordinary,
who should be far from society
I’ll make you eat your sins
I do this shit on the daily and I do it for free
my hands, stained holy, on your foreheads
I’ll stand over all of you
no air above my legs
when you all end up dead,
just the drunkard priest, the lost, misplaced tranny
displaced Gentile
nobody to know
and nothing to see
nobody to see me
when I fall, I’ll be on default,
stumbling to the lectern at Jonestown
drunk on my own concoctions
don’t know where I am but
I’ve got this shit
and I haven’t lost it
and I know you all know it
I’m a know it all,
but I don’t die and I can’t be killed
and you won’t be able to handle
my hands on your foreheads,
me or the lies I sell
so goodnight and goodbye,
and when I leave you behind
with the end times in my wake,
you’ll be sorry, so sorry
to see me go away
