Tuesday, June 2, 2009


[Been doing a lot of straight up poetry lately so I can have pieces to slam. Must do more prosaic/dramatic shit as well soon.]

in a throng of strangers
you pulse against each others
not unlike other nights.
tissue vibrate with the air and earth
As one solid square wave
beats it's palm into the dirt
the light rolls over you like a cement truck
it bounces off the grey smoke
misses the black skies above
and hits you in the mouth.

But tonight, as you watch
all the bodies next to you
glow sticky sweat white
their glass eyes roll back
into lolling, tossed heads
their veins throb in time
with the mob.
These tones, they disinter,
they splinter stop tear
off the thin cotton between you
and these writhing forms
repeat redux,
and the sea around you,
it rolls.

And there is no end to
this party.
You reach out for faces
and find only teeth, find a lot of flesh
but no orifice out.
stumble against walls
built of shoulder blades
and they don't look at you.
You turn, a girl,
she's too young to be here
she shifts and bends
she's an unpleasant memory.
a final sick beat hits her
and she

the mob, the bodies flinch like cats
hot pink viscous drops of her
spatter their chests and cheeks
she is pouring down your front.
You scream,
wring your hands,
the party surges.
Your feet are awash in this
it mixes and eddies,
and across the way
another human pustule goes.
one pop in a hot black electric
bubble wrap.

You push, pushed back.
You cry, pounded down.
Your head is light.
Your fluids boil,
It is a matter of time
measured in broken beats.

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