Corporate America Throttles me Daily...


Try as I might
I could not write you out.
Hattie Carroll and Capote
sitting in the basement
smoking cigarettes.
Like scratching a bug bite,
I felt the black sheep
of our generation "why not" congregating,
Hallelujahs and God is dead.
Dirty chai liberals united
under dark storm clouds.
That "I don't give a fuck" swagger
will not work
in my checkerboard wonderland,
double jeopardy
and hail marys....
never the answer.
I can just see
Jesus and Jung
shaking their heads.

While you tripped on x
and marked the delusion of pi
I saw a flash...
they raped the red-eyed goddess
in the bedroom
with white curtains
and green shag carpet,
while downstairs,
he tossed a fruit salad
and sliced a honey baked ham
in the kitchen
with the pretty black stone island.
I know,
I was reckless
with your dance shoes,
but baby
you knew all along
you'd cry
on the couch
we made love on
204 times since
my fight with the Father
and the death of my own.

Give and take
was just not in my tarot cards,
the giver ended up stuck,
in his own goddamn
medicine cabinet
between the iodine and arsenic,
in his cabin in the woods of Walden.
Twilight and Fury
bowed in defeat
against the deadly sins.
Potholes gave away
secrets of the governmental plan,
chaos disguised as the stock market.
Sorry, what were you saying?
Ha.
I wasn't even listening,
just focused on your heartbeat.

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