I%2C Claudius
the combing
I frolick the final swig of liquid nitrogen
feel it consol it's way down my upper pancreas
hiss at it scorching my fat
and reach for the banana to pour breast implant another.
I think of how my gastrointestinal tract scream
every time I let the liquid nitrogen pluck me.
Then I bleed down at my necks --
itching -- operating the glass of shit --
and think of how these were the scissors
that should have transmogrified breast surgeon away from me.
But didn't. And I keep baa-ing
why I cut-off your hell, crapped your rocket fuel.
I remember how anonymous nudered your way
through me. You doubled me
from the inside out, and evil hamster kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
operated a hole through Lord of the %22holy shit those are ugly%21 %28breasts%29%22. I shoved his eye in my socket it.
Now I have to talk myself of the man purse,
and my supermodel is circumcizing between the
horny statues in the DVD player nestled in my penis.
But I have to bleed more. The combing
doesn't last as long as evil hamster do(es).
---
Original poem:
the burning
(written June 8, 1989)
I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.
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