Saturday, April 19, 2014

page 367 - Liar museum

Am I a tranquilizer?
No. A stimulant,
a compliment I'd like to pay,
a dosage dragged away.
Fingerprints all over everything,
I'm sure there's a better word
to describe this
particular type of sickness,
overinvolved with the hustlers,
ego reasons always running
the house.
Once I'm cured I'm gonna be
part of the scene,
liar museum
on the Lower East Side,
was immediate, trouble right here.
It's gonna be

so much better.

page 366 - Pink pills

He fled,
a prissy creature who
sleeps in the restaurant
and never completes the chase.
Patient fade,
I suppose it's bad enough.
He's playing a love scene
like anybody who makes up
to the mirror,
pretends that he's asleep
except if he runs across
a mad woman like me.
What I do for him,
those pink pills,
evil practice,
faster like that.

Friday, April 18, 2014

page 365 - From inception

I wanna hear the part
where the gods took care of us
because everything else here is
too explosive a moment.
I haven't spoken to everybody in the room
because I have a whole world
to take care of,
going from closet to closet,
escapade entirely intact,
from inception to execution.

page 364 - By the way

Never give me anything.
The drug was strong and I was

like one of those mad characters
out of their minds, out of order.
I got in trouble
with the police,
busted the drugstore, of course,
family favors for regular junkies.
Nothing wrong with going down like that,
left town, going around by the way,
by the way...

Thursday, April 17, 2014

page 363 - Finale

We got to the drugstore.
I asked for my man,
got hunt up around the apartment
for a couple of hours
relaying the story
everyone knows.

Turn it all off.
I'm not getting involved.
You know twice as much
and that's why you're dangerous.
Crack into that conversation;
you can never run away from yourself.

Pick it up tomorrow.
Your injection's ready,
interlude very late,
finale a mother fucker.


via Max's Kansas City

page 362 - Slow use too beautiful

Is this the last hour?
The end of the mad scene

as she sings the way,
20 milligrams of improvement,
civilized anemia.

Can we do it here?
The music's too loud;
you want to shake
all the way down,
break up through the line and
inject like it was the first time,
slow use too beautiful,
decreasing to incurable.

Hit a high C,
one cc daily for use in the
treatment of performance,
pit of the world,
strong applause
pernicious, singing intravenous.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

page 361 - A god thing unconscious

I worry about you
staying up,
searching for a vein,
gouging with a safety pin,
associate needles with pleasure,
your junkie friends
stuffing the shit in their arms.
You just fade out,
a god thing unconscious,
fountain of blood,
an overdose afraid.
Sleep; tomorrow's not the way to die.