The Non - Gentleman

I love
how you throw your coins at me
Like I'm a circus pet
with a cirrus hook
near my collarbone
How you ask
i am fine
how you ask
if
I'd like some tea
when actually I'd like to
slowly push my blunt foot
inside your stomach
and see it coming out the other end
maybe, breaking your spinal cord
But then you are just sitting there
blandly affectionate
inspidly so
like a cucumber
like a detached parent
meeting with their fully grown seed
after many years
You think that i am a good woman
a beautiful girl
a gifted wordsmith
and such a pain in the ass
and i think that you're
negative space
that you're a fetish
a long dead flash of incineration
in the ashtray
a stain of monsoon shoes
on my anti-septic tiles
You are only the ache
of some pig punched sorrow
nothing but a yarn jutting out
of my mind's
old salty
neighbourhood
You are husky trash
and a dustbin rhapsody
No gentleman
no minstrel
no poet extraordinaire
but a worm infested bowler hat.

Train Wreck Romeo

We were young Gods lixeen
the greatest ever machines
right by living
high sex psy ches
We're train wreck summers
and vogue covers
Filled with the season
and what a season it is
You were paradise
but lost my eyes
the day she met my
castle queens
I care to regret
any crimes I get
accused for
When I love
We were young and old
She's an angel I'm told
When we fucked
I saw her fly
Yes the spots in the room
Oh the cupboard and the broom
The kitchen and stairs
We've been everywhere
Sitting
and Nibbling
capturing
our Godly selves
On the kingdom shelves

My Howl

I'm afraid of touching its crumbling pages
its soft dog eared folds
its a valuable relic
its old
its old
my soul twisted like a rope,
of miniscule springs
that spring in its spine
its mine
its mine
that little orgasm of textual destiny is mine
how lovingly i have upturned its face
each unreal black and white
my saliva leaving traces of ownership
every single time
i have drowned it in my nights
of lonely blank headaches
I have swum it with me through
the channels of yellow mediocre light
i have tied it to my throat of slow breathing spite
and always it has been my lover
never out of sight
it contorts with the humid rustle of
rain upon its sleeve
it shrivels like wet fingers
soaked overnight in sleep
And ah, this urchin tome
such a beggar for lack of clothes
my only
my only
Its an only thing
on my days unending
lying in wait patiently
Lying in cupboards
drawers
boxes
small
tall
boxes
cold boxes,
boxes with mold boxes
on the threshold
of being evicted from their homes
And yet it smells like
the sweat from my hands
like some reclusive tea
and maybe some smoke on command
from the bloke
who came with packages and the draft
of such and such things
Some obscure evening
Ah my love
my gray scaled God
king
dictator
My independent song
You are the last of your kind
Loosened and stroked by fingernails and palms
opened and touched by fingernails and palms
held naked indignant by fingernails and palms
and yet
yet
yet
you are my Madonna
voodoo black
and virginal white.

Gutters

wishes
are like sellers of crisp lust
clad in nothing but velvet osmosis,
possession of a young dream
and old craving
aeons of livid abrasions of the mind
panting in the iota of a chance to touch-corrupt
to turn inward the world and its Gothic pain
to turn and crush the fabric of sanity
in one blink of a dilated pupil
and surprise of the century's grandfather clock
i'm here witnessing all the gushing
and thickening acids of the human ambition
all the soiled usurped naivette of endless eternity
every mortar stained synthesis of blood
every echo of pardoned displacement
and everything is a sorry or thankyou
and everything is a give or take
and i feel a thousand cold steels
of hungry harlot heels
bleed my atlas back
demand the fullness of pregnant hearts
brimming with fluids of release
what can i give these, wishes
who trade in elephantine caskets of fickle greed
who can i ask them for?
you, will you give me a wish?
she wears hells heels
and a little skirt?
you, can you buy me a wish?
she is very charming
and she likes my company?
i am the world's man
woman
child
crone
wanting to touch that serpent
glow
reeking of
children's happiness
and entrench
divine fucking
of ego and fate