Castrated its last rape victim I feel safe do you feel safe? In any city I might pick the night’s last trapdoor hour to run half naked to a lover’s house negro trench coat and lace now that the saddle is drilled in revival
Meeting tomorrow I know I keep asking but is this tomorrow? That scratch off lotto gunk in the conductor’s thumbnail makes him tin man christ hollow in the joke of bloodlines as if anatomy is out of time rhythmless heartless if this is the last gimmick before the end of law I’d give him the softest most final manicure in the trigger finger a mannequin of an apple prying the mouth open to tell how even the inanimate objects have their insistent violence feel idle and virgin without their gun or nagging wonder when I arrive at his door safe and half naked he looks like he’s been fucking white women I grimace and back away defiant in a daze of safety they reinvent satan give him a spraytan give him a woman to love and one to damage make them the same woman now that the revolution has ruined indifference we’re all so candid and empty it’s like there’s no more alphabet it’s like the whole s e t is mute the whole brutalized radiance I was so used to
