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