jetlag poetry
touche
(exit)
I keep this gun in the bible you gave me
it chases my demons down deep alleyways
ending in surreal gun fights that always
feature a helpless puppy
cowering in some corner
I need such reason to know I’m chasing
something more than an obsession
that this trainwrek is worth all
the popping pressure worth all the
pinprick pain (like chinese water torture:all in the mind
this is just an exit...
into an Orwellian stagedive, this
sin-king wonderland doesn’t welcome
me
I was the one who gave them black mariahs
and streetwise poetboys –that spout the
end of the world from pretty lip`stick
smothermouths- the filth of the street
black roes in summer can’t cover
up my cementary vials: the blanche neige
c’est mort
