MISTER A
MISTER A, WE HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE ENGAGED IN B, PARTICIPATED IN C, CONSPIRED TO D, YES A DEGENERATE IN THE GENERAL SENSE, WELL, HMMM. UM… HAD COLD SPASMS, MUSCLE ACHE, MALAISE. WAS BROUGHT INTO “INTERVIEW ROOM” E PUNCHED IN FACE CHEWED AN EAR SENT FIRST CLASS TO ONE BREASTED WHORE FOR THE SAKE OF BURNING ART DANGLE FREELY FROM INTRICATE RAZOR BLADE MAN WITH SKI MASK FROM THE HEAVENS AS IF THERE IS A CHINESE RESTAURANT WORTH F WITHIN G # OF BLOCKS OF HERE. SOMEWHERE WHERE THE EGG ROLLS WEREN’T BORN WITH A SENSE OF HATE SO SHARP AND WELL DEFINED THAT IT DRIVES YOU TO DRINK SOMEWHERE WHERE THE FORTUNES IN THE FORTUNE COOKIES AREN’T BLESSED WITH SOMETHING OTHER THAN WHERE ICED AND WATERED DOWN DRINKS LEAD TO A HIGHWAY THAT GOES SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN TO AN ANGERED OBLIVION AS THE LAST SEAGULL DANCES SO PRETTY ABOVE MY SOUL, AS MY LOVE DRIVES IN THE LAST RUSTED COFFIN NAIL THUS IN A SHOW OF MY INATE MALE ABILITY TO CONFUSE COMPASSION WITH SELF DESTRUCTION. THE MAN WITH THE SKI MASK JUST STARES AND SAYS NOTHING OTHER THAN H. AFTER A FEW YEARS IT BECOMES TOO MUCH AND I HANG FROM SPRINKLER J, IN CEILING RIVET #K, AND AFTER PASSING OUT STAND AND REMOVE THE MASK AND LEAVE THE ROOM WHILE I ALSO CONTINUE TO DANGLE FREELY (PRETTY SOON THE DOGS AND THE MUFFINS WILL BE NIPPING AT MY FEET!) I DRINK AND BECOME BLIND AND CAN’T SEE HER RUNNING TOWARD THE DOOR BUT I HEAR HER TRIP AND HIT THE CARPET. THE COPS ARE STILL OUT THERE. THE FLOWERS OPENING UP AND WAITING TO SWALLOW US WHOLE. NEVER AGAIN TO SPLIT HER OPEN AND DISSECT HER INSIDES ON THE KITCHEN TABLE, WATCHING HER LAY THERE AND TWITCH LIKE A DYING INSECT, AN AEROBIC ORGANISM WITHOUT THAT LAST PRECIOUS DROP OF WATER LIKE AIR. TRAILS OF INNARDS NAILED TO THE WALL WHILE THE JOCKO COPS FEEL ME UP THE ONLY THING STANDING BETWEEN THEM AND THEIR FINAL AND BLESSED DESCENT BEING THE EYES OF THE WORLD AND
A REVOLVER WITH SIX ACID DROPPED SKIN PIERCING BIRDS WE WILL SUCK ON GIN EYES WET WITH TEARS LEGS BUCKLING HEART EXPLODING CONSUMING TOO MUCH OF EVERYTHING THE LEAVES WILL SING THE WOMEN WILL WEAR LESS ASSES AND BREASTS INSPIRING THE PETS TO LOSE THEIR MINDS AND FUCK WILDLY AS THE NIGHT PERFORMS AN AUTO-EROTIC CHOKEHOLD AROUND OUR NECKS AND WE ORGASM, ONE LAST TIME, EYES ROLLING BACK FOREVER AND BARELY ENOUGH TIME TO ENJOY IT. SHIT BABY, I NEED A SMOKE.
I dream like a pig
I dream like a pig, like a blind, vegetative mutant. Some sleep on their backs. I sleep on my dark side to keep it from coming out. That little delicate step-brother wincing and moaning about being trapped against the mattress. Some random garbage about not being able to breathe (I thought that part was optional…)
But if you hear some disturbing, muffled sobs coming up through your floor at night, don’t get all tripped out, it’s just me hanging out in the kitchen and sticking my face in the frying pan, trying to get all beamed up on scotty.
The boiler room blast that blew out my eyes, and I can’t see her running toward the door.
But I hear her trip on the carpet and fall down laughing.
The cops are still out there scratching their scalp until it bleeds.
The flowers are still out there too, getting ready to open wide. Their dentist telling them to say “AGH!” and swallow us whole.
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jay miner at mp3 •
| born 1973 buffalo, ny, has lived in michigan and arizona and now resides in nevada. publishings included at: rebel's advocate, wooden head review, fuck!, lucid moon and at the-ho!d.
Jay Miner
340 3rd St., #229
Sparks, NV
89431  drinking problem
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