I wish I was born after pop-punk

It was the incestual bleating of banjos and the girls with daddy’s disappointment on their breath that brought me to this town – I wish I was born after pop-punk so my pseudo-sadomasochism meant something – do I self-deprecate myself? I self-deprecate myself – wanting to be useful, I made myself into a hammer and hid amongst the rust at the back of the shed – with a river for a cock I freeze each winter and let Spring’s breasts tame me into a child again – my kind are rotting, after years of salt water and blood – I only drink to wash out the taste of Pompeii – while the cool kids learned how to make it I just begged for forgiveness – something about jazz makes me wish I could just scream about how cold I am – If I died tonight my death rattle would sound like train cars locking, a yawp to blow the house down – The wind of my eyes sets fire to all the pine beetles, whose sour pincers have embedded in my tattoos – All burnt up, I stumbled into a community garden and spread myself over your mother’s artichokes –

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s