I am


food, drug and drink all consuming


death machine


I am parasitic cathedral

My skin, a galactic blanket of viral microbes

Spiraling endlessly through a cosmos of atrophy

I am salt of the earth


I am dirt

My smokestack phallus factories

spew forth the demon semen seed

of my dis-ease


I relieve my black rains

into the toilet bowls of untold Bikini Atols

and stick sticky whiskey fingers

to back of throat

choking out Alamagordo, New Mexico

upon the altars of every linoleum throne

from here to Hiroshima and out into the ozone


I devour rain forests whole

until there's nothing left but holes in the soil,

Erecting Disneylands and McDonalds in their place

I am laughing face of mouse and clown


I am town drunk

thief in the night

sucking usurper

suckling barrel upon barrel of black gold from bleeding nipple of the Nazarene

until too drunk to think, drink another, or brush my teeth anymore

sucking the bittersweet tear streak of seeping poppy


I am bruised trackmark haloes

on the arms of seven billion and three jonesing junkies

My spittle

the affliction of your conditioning


I am CIA Manchurian Candidate

thrusting jet planes into

dildo and erection private collections

in the prehistoric museums of your rotting intestines


I am sick

A pit of bodies burnt beyond recognition

In the ditches of Serbia, Germany, Abu Graib

Apache pilot

playing Halo with real people

through nightscope in Baghdad


I am sick in bed

waking to the agonized moans of the walking dead

sick in head from seeing red

splashed upon newspaper stand every single mourning


So we fuck and get fucked up

and cum and piss and shit

and drink and drug and eat everything in sight when high

because this place

this black hole is home

and your cellphones,

computer circuitry and programming,

your TV screens

mean about as much to us here

as hair conditioner


I am sick

but I take comfort in knowing that your social conditioning

is as sick as me

And it'll take something stronger than

chalk tablets and tofu enemas to make me well again


So I will continue laying waste to this scorched earth

until you can taste my sickness in the dirt

until I find a cure



 SF 2011