As my heart shrinks
so does my tolerance for charades.
I want only the truth
even if the truth disappoints me.
Everyone has a spark,
a moment when ignition
transports their seldom-sought
muse into another plain
of seldom-sought, heroically-induced
bliss but most of the time
we chase and inflate our egos
looking for a way to apply
our genitals while maintaining
every conceivable form of anonymous.
My horns drip with the blood
of my adversaries, scores
of green-tongued deviants
scorching their way through
my disheveled veins.
Medication doesn’t slow time.
I sit watching the trains
charge blindly into a hemorrhagic skyline
my thoughts twitching down to powder.
I’ve lost interest in everyday happenings
and all that being human pertains to.
This weekend I am painting my living room so I might be unavailable and unable to post.