Refusing to submit to
psychiatric medicine is like an atheist staring contest with god
I don’t want the pill
to ease the burden; the relief from Simon on the march
It’s like the last remnant
of Christ pumping through the blood in my brain
The trembling aneurism
ready to burst in a shrapnel blast of thorns
The depression and the
cherry on top smirking that if god is there; fuck god
I want whatever this
blessing is I want to drink the bottle straight, no chaser
No tonic water, just
the booze-cunt raw slurp it in the two a.m. narcoleptic fevers
Nothing to ease the
focus of the altered me; I want to be a disaster
I want to rampage in
this isolation like a wolverine tearing apart pig pens and mutton chunks
Gnashing teeth red
dripping blasphemy in the rape before the sunset
Defiling the muddy
pits with a dervish pain debauchery that this is what love does
This is the knees on
the rice in the corner facing the wall spewing in Latin
The hell-whiskey of
father coming in demanding the plates immaculate
And thrusting them
bolt-like to the kitchen tiles having the children sweep
The canine feces on
the shoe trucking through the carpet sliding the wretched stench
Visceral into nostrils
reminding the derelict nature of time’s cascade
That there does not
have to be reconciliation before the reckoning
All the repentance,
the foster, the Malaria bugs nesting in eyeballs
The Aids victims
fornicating unabated tolls ringing from Notre Dame
Drop dead into the
chalice melt into the vinous brew
I drink it; I drink
you stare back and grin never breaking eye contact
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