Eight

this gets unintentionally sad in the middle, but it's actually about something happy, for me -- I hope it's okay. (see author's note for further details)

For Sasha

(Metal cries, four years ago

The saddest tortured soul

Man's biggest plea and infant's harshest fear.)

Once a fool, twice a criminal

Breeding with my wrist-watch, an owing to the Goddess

Time, my rib-cage home flounces toward condensation, 

Sometimes I know how to be happy

When the tag of the engineered snake is slapped

Into my wake and the black, wedged horsemen have no reign over me

The prematurity of happiness comes from a benign

Tumour that coalesces from entrapment,

And the public bounce free from the jaw of the beast

One of them an underdog, two of them you

And my mother would be a drunkenly charged bulldog

If she knew her seed had grown a dirty labia for Spring

My father would adopt gun-men to pass me, once more

Onto the breaches of the beast, should he know I was exhibiting it

As a monument to my sour tongue, O young one

Not even yet riding the gas of possession, my spine

Ionising to the greedy hollow in the Earth that craves the 

Weight of me when I am so weightless.

And the loneliness of individualism, smacked into

My gut like a life alter of a realisation of a dead parent,

Celebrates the instance with freedom of tongue, young, young one

The yellowed out core in my throat becomes regurgitated

Bullets, a destruction of city comes from it's madness

The siren's weep, frenzies, for the loss of everything

I know how to be happy in the moments that need know how,

To feed my child the innocence of superstition, to chuck it

Back myself in abundance so that I survive the heartless nights

Opening the mouths of the galapagos mole-hills so that

I can sidle in through the magnetic curve like an extra-terrestrial

Gravitational force of existing, so in to exist

Screeching like the broken sky-bird of our race, the depreciated

Villain of understanding, the public do not like very much

The gurgling changeling moaning like a starved blizzard

And the arousal of Christmas lights and street fights

The dark, dark 7PM December sky shakes the pulse of me

The general f**k of the people renders a quake of me

Being in the world, naked, bruised and bare

A pot-bellied, n****e-less soldier who has seen it all and decided to

Give up, and sixteen and silly decides to brush it's teeth and

Give it a saddle, because get back up on the horse, sir!

We froom and boom, engine motors for dialect and the vicious

Monoxide of reverberation, we do it no good

The PTSD rocks like a jelly-fish foetus of Hurricane up-and-coming,

And the condescending jabber of the stars look down like 

Reared breeding of the finer qualities, chin quivers for the nearing

But we hug like we've never been pushed so far from Truth

And Athena, the bint, for one night, looks to her founder's children,

And lets this one transgression be fated by mortality

And twenty, in the dignified perimeter of age and grace, it

Combusts within our fingered entity, and reacts with the solvent Passion

To tip-toe around the curse of cancer of realisation

Like a haughty child of naughty, and the topless shrew

Of hopeful gore, mourns the night December the 14th

Spat out like a tasteless slip of jelly for the homelessly tired

I have wanted to harm the great fat voids with you

And instead we resolved man's biggest plea: how is happiness

Foundered in night when nothing can be seen?

The great squealing comet, on our laps like two great happinesses

The yellowing corpse of uproar, of love, love, embodied love,

And the simultaneous shriek on hands-and-knees, learning to see the world for the first time--

We didn't see the acne sins, nor the sweated seats of lost love,

And the wronged of us, concealed in the wronged misrepresentation 

Of a friend, like the last true God-given gift we would ever receive.

Author's Note

It's shitty because I don't know how to write anymore. Please don't base the quality of my writing off this one poem, because the last 2 or 3 poems of mine are really me at a low point.