in progress

fuck the flat stares in the window while
a war is waged in prime time TV. Fuck. Run. Run
ahead. The AK 47 is bleeding-was bludgeoned-
an ex trick. And sometimes it is a crime.
welcome to the fold. The rust cage is empty.
the mind goes berserk like the notes homed in
the fingers, in a cusp: the wreckage inside one’s
holy sex. Fist fuck the consistency of acid.
toxic: the brain is flooded with refuse. Wash
your guilt while the images fetch marijuana.
kill your neighbor as you are told by the foam
living in the condos of your mugs. Erase your
past. Go fuck a whore in the main street. Go.
love picks you in the line-up. Steal piano
lines and kill yourself with sharpened notes.
rummage. Scram. Blood. Holy water.
holy shit. Shot in the head.
Wake up
and die
in sleep.