It’s an indigestible December where
Snows gradually graze the ground,
Burying any trace of ember there
Burning fiercely to be found;
Another outcast extinguished
Reminiscing Vitality’s touch
W/ but one last breath relished
Ere Winter’s melancholic clutch.
*
The mind is the loneliest
island whereon to be stranded,
saturated by the nitty-gritty
of Life, the underbelly of
the Beast gutted w/ a knife,
Since schmucks like me keep
eviscerating the Lamb; bathing
in the cesspool of the damned
and spitting the subsequent plaque
into the Book of Life
w/ frightful alacrity – disciples
of a lecher’s lore
And the gangly vegetable enigma of ghouls –
And I, oh, I
felt I was the indissoluble
savior of such fools, buried
a mile ‘neath my tomb of ice:
frost-bitten by addiction’s perfidious
teeth chiseled by my insolence
narcotic as they come; a malady
w/ no remedy; numb animus,
consumed
Black Delilah of the
incubus, doomed
forevermore a slave to my vice.
*
I’m the drunken blur,
The narcotic knave,
The emaciated cur
Who digs the grave
To gnaw the bone
Of a senescent love,
Alone to atone
To seraphs above.
I need God’s gold,
A real Heaven to behold,
For these hellion thrillse
Are killin’ me cold…
Every day, another dollar,
Another dollar for pills.
Every day, another dollar
To the Devil I’m sold!
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