Perfect, Perfect, June 9

June 9.

A day that every other day
wants to be.

A day that wears snowball robes
among
daffodil trimmed
avenues,

singing a knot-tie
ditty that
clanks
with balls hooked
to short,
short
chains.

A day frosted with
pockets full
of posy,

cakes layered
with ashes
and
ashes,

dances,
twirls,
smiles,

until Bride and
groom
both fall
down.

6 years pester at them.

Knock, Knock, Knocking
on their skin, crawls
under epidermal
rugs

where it reaches up,
plucks at arm hair
follicles
one
by
one

creating a trail of annoyance
on
loving arms.

The pester years
crawl throughout
their underlying
crust,
burrowing themselves
deep
within,
until old Bride and
old Groom
fall down

in despair.

June 9 approaches.

A day that no other day wants
to be.

A day that wears soiled
tablecloths among
champagne
crashes,

singing a thunder
roar
lullaby to
heart shackles
that
clank, in pieces,
together.

A day full of
frozen hands stuffed
in pockets caked

with
ashes and ashes
of the past,

aches,
pains,
tears,

until Bride
and Groom
both fall down

in surrender.

Severance and Unification – (Adult Content)

* This post could be disturbing and difficult or offensive to some readers..it contains adult material and paints a disturbing image, please don’t read if you are sensitive to adult material.

I forked my eyeballs
from their sockets before
the gang
banged
away

at my fourteen aged
bones

for men
bones are not like fine
aged wine

my eyeballs bounced
around with
the pounding
hounding
hard-ons

slippery hours
later
my pig pudding covered
bones
laid to rest

while
my severed eyeballs
suffered alone
with what they had seen.