Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
the Coming
I'm intoxicated by asininity,
Feeling sick.
I spin.
I dance.
The chunks rise up my gullet.
I subvert it, carry on,
Nothing to see here.
I might as well be blind,
I'm as cadaverous as ever.
Fusty memories.
Grilling disaster in my head.
Making me moonstruck, I
Swear. F(uc)k.
This cannot end well.
Bilious, goading, tempting fate
And playing god.
It's no wonder.
I spin.
I dance.
Encroached in exhaustion,
I plea to be the Coming.
They exacerbate what I really am.
Here comes the vomit,
Spilling out my mouth
And onto my shirt.
A legate I negate.
I wheeze.
Cough. Sputter. And. Shake.
Endless is the rain
That will not fall.
I spin.
I dance.
I earth.
I quake.
Awaiting the blister of dawn
To scorch me back to versimility,
Which has become a manifold
Of brackish nightmares that
I witness when I'm awake.
August 10 2009
Feeling sick.
I spin.
I dance.
The chunks rise up my gullet.
I subvert it, carry on,
Nothing to see here.
I might as well be blind,
I'm as cadaverous as ever.
Fusty memories.
Grilling disaster in my head.
Making me moonstruck, I
Swear. F(uc)k.
This cannot end well.
Bilious, goading, tempting fate
And playing god.
It's no wonder.
I spin.
I dance.
Encroached in exhaustion,
I plea to be the Coming.
They exacerbate what I really am.
Here comes the vomit,
Spilling out my mouth
And onto my shirt.
A legate I negate.
I wheeze.
Cough. Sputter. And. Shake.
Endless is the rain
That will not fall.
I spin.
I dance.
I earth.
I quake.
Awaiting the blister of dawn
To scorch me back to versimility,
Which has become a manifold
Of brackish nightmares that
I witness when I'm awake.
August 10 2009
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the Coming
the Coming
