February 3rd, 2011


(no subject)


They wax you first, pluck each remaining hair,
to make you smoother than when you were born.
The air-brushed oiled wet slick pink cunts of porn
are not more naked. Once they've stripped you bare

a little glue goes on. It feels quite cold.
One crystal, then another. The design
will take a while. You may as well resign
yourself to lying still as you were told

as a red rose emerges, or a heart
with snakes entwining it. The jewels will flash
and dazzle as you dance. And if a rash
follows, put lotion on the itching part

and pick off all the crystals in the shower.
This is the way we celebrate our power.

(no subject)

Zombie 1

The worst thing would be this. To feel the bite
growing inflamed, the poison spreading through
your blood. You lose your mind; your body too
becomes a stranger. And of course you fight.

Remember strawberries' crush on your tongue,
Sing Mozart to yourself – La Ci Darem
La Mano. Plead with friends and then watch them
recoil in horror, It will not be long.

The virus eats you. And then you eat brains.
You shamble and you groan and you decay.
You have no longer anything to say
with all that wit and charm. And of the pains

you feel, the worst as beauty, brilliance go
to rot, will be to be that thing , and know.