The psychosis potluck

Bursting oil stain where does oil come from father? in a light
voice took years to construct bacterium dancing alone like a child
murmurs don’t they follow me now don’t they press on unhappy
drilling in the knees honey we aren’t here long not on this stub
of a planet say it with me sixty thousand miles through nothing.

The space concept weird heartbeat the fibers took on faces
and wore them strange species the strangest comedians they
lose their arms for over use what’s the good of it clenching
biologies systems hovering on collapse plenty of race here
racing to supremacy segue idiocy warming as the highway scene.

Oil comes from your mama her mama her lesbian sister the king
of France who diddled our ancestors who drank his brainstem out
for its itching didn’t suit him what is the good of forgetting
father he is prancing around in a zoot high on the leaves
he scavenged with his river buddies he found them in a fortnight.

What is a healthy system once it is self-cognizant and frowning
on juniper stinking his nose danced away lives in a halfway house
writes on Christmas writes naked sleeps in clothes oddity all
the way stutters like a milksnake trying to grow thumbs explaining
why its joints are out of whack its tail twitching can’t you man

see the corrupt whine of having been birthed lying down lazy
as romance in the ghettos have you stood for anything today
sitting on the eaves what talent for asking for swooning except
the poor mumble on their bones they pave the street old folks
dream on then undreaming psychosis takes them their needs imagined.

The pimp of heart attacks at age twenty into the trash long-haired
homosexuals yawn about their shoulders hunched what misery is this
that massaged the brain into speaking on where it meandered what
twisting is this foolish as the younglings those grave chasers
permit what is this sphere we multiplied new and fumbling limbs on

asks the oil-wealthy reptile his feet like open books his wives
martyred all around him on fire the smell of shivered proteins
alive nearly in the air once music traveled through it once
the strange species bid in it their art their mournings
their syllables their reckonings wrong of the limbic puzzle.


~ by Jeremy on April 13, 2012.

One Response to “The psychosis potluck”

  1. wow. great imagery!

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