says let me know how it feels

bossman gives you a job, puts you in
charge of going through
the pockets of the corpses, and you gotta
make a living,
right?

got mouths to feed and crows to stone, and
what everything boils
down to in the end is a simple fear of death

we are the ghosts of our fathers or
the residue of their addictions

we simply are, and our
mothers tell us that this is enough

they tell us run! and so we run,
and then we run away, and everywhere is
nowhere, and anywhere is better,
and it feels like a trap
because it is

the politicians are liars,
and the poets,
and if the war isn’t necessary it
should at least be fun

humor is the key

bomb the fuck out of those hospitals
& orphanages, kill for the
simple joy of watching the innocent die,
and then a rimshot

maybe a stripper as the next act
or maybe a ventriloquist

maybe this 15 yr old girl
with her brother’s gun

finds a youtube video on how to do
it the right way, and so she does,
and you can try to make me
sicker than i make myself, but i’ve
been at this shit a long time

took me a few years to figure out
how much of an asshole i was,
but i had good teachers

had my father, had his friends,
all those veterans of 100,000,000
unnamed psychic wars, and it felt pretty
goddamn good when the time came
to start dancing on their graves

bought a cock ring and
some leather gloves

a sweet fucking pair of
steel-toed stiletto boots

no point being profane in the
world of the sacred if
you’re not going to
do it in style