Fluorescent Nothing Junk in Dumb Lib

these illiterate bombs of flesh

insist on pretending to read-

if you close your eyes

you can hear them exploding.

if they pressed their noses to the carpet

I'm sure they would find what they're looking for-

a cocaine truck on a bridge to their brain's.

New Year's Eve inside a library,

letting the wind chill me

through a shattered window-

a plated visual.

they came with intent, they came with purpose,

but they all flop down and start clicking and humming

and they feed off the strong avec vulture-like beaks.

I wake up on a grayish,

freckled carpet, hard staples

like clinging to my teeth cheek-

fluorescent sleep for a week.

I saw some Asians surfing on a database,

Indians fire-watching on a calculator-

why do they insist on being cannibals?

If I let my sleep fall under a four-legged table,

I'm sure they'd all scramble like eggs just to wallow.

With wool socks, I could chase these vultures

and catch them in my broken, shattered teeth-

what a literary, (explative) feast!

will they have fresh coffee?

stale doughnuts and tea?

If I sleep in too late

you'll be sorry for free

The Spot Where It Used To Be

I left her with my ring round her finger,
kept her tiger's eye chain,
but it choked me while it lingered.
I could only leave it there awhile-
the weight of an anvil is far too much to bare.
What is this taste I make so vile?

I love you woman.
I said I loved you wretch!
But I heeded to an omen
from an old gray man in a moustache.
What is to bare now
but a bottle of wine and my stash.

I had dreams about you
and yet ones I still sleep around.
Did you think I was a shrew?
I treated your love with flaw
like a child born still-
Now this heart is just a gaping maw.