I open the window
at night
so the sirens
can rock me to sleep.

Dreams of you
are fleeting
and few
but I close my eyes anyway.

Sleep, sweet Sleep,
the River Lethe's
got nothing on me.

Look for me
- I know you won't -
and you'll find me
in my bed,
not asleep
but half-dead.

Empire (1992)

I sucked the dick of the Empire,
drained the marrow, its life-source,
from the wrinkled shaft and spit it out
onto cold concrete; it tasted bad.

The masses screamed like dying butterflies
when I began to slurp, my tongue darting,
my hands clawing for stability.
Their evil was leaving them; I was happy.

The orgasm left them weary but relieved.
Prejudice squirmed like a snake,
Hate throbbed like a dying heart,
and it all spewed from my mouth,
a fountain of Man's sins; it tasted bad.

Eyes were opened wide enough to watch
the ghastly mucous seep into the depths
of the Earth, on its way back to Hell.
Cries of joy abounded, men and women wept
and thanked me for Nothing; I was happy.

this might be the worst poem
youll ever read
if you manage
to make it
to the end
ah the end
the fucking end
thats what i want
the end
youll find no
beautiful language
intricate wordplay
insightful metaphors
not even
any punctuation
maybe a little selfpity
because poetrys supposed
to be honest
brutally
crushingly
honest
and sometimes
i feel sorry for myself
if only because nobody else will
but thats it
im going to terrorize
this art
twist it so badly
that al qaeda
will look like the virgins
that await them
that they fuck the shit out of
because im a miserable wreck
of a fucking person
suicides too good for me
i cant even write
a good poem
anymore

I was going to tell a story,
but I forgot what it was,
so I'll say something else.
I'm tired of being lonely.
Is there a place for us passionate ones
besides the hell of unfulfilled desires
and unrequited love?
Maybe there's a place -
yes, that's it, a place!
(I've said it three times now) -
we can go
where pain
is nothing
(nothing)
(no thing)
(NOTHING)
but just a slick knife across a throat
or a sly bullet through so many thoughts
that'll never see the day anyway.
Ah, but dreams are for fools,
so I'll shut my fucking mouth now
and go to sleep.

Never

I'm so in love with you,
and you're so not in love with me -
that's why the world
will never stop spinning
for us.

Hey, you , when you talked to God today,
Did He have anything interesting to say?
Maybe something you could share with me too?
Or was it just between Him and you?

Oh, we talked about saints and sinners,
The world's best losers and worst winners.
And we talked about Life and a little about Death too.
But no, we didn't talk about you.

Well, I was just wondering, if God had His way
Whether Life would be all work, Love, and play.
Or would He still make us cry, fight, and die too?
Tell me, did He say anything about this to you?

He'd just finished lunch and was looking ahead to dinner,
Maybe find a fresh of measure of Time and skin her,
Though He did say He had other things on His mind too.
Next time, my friend, we'll talk about you.

When you bit me
Out in the shade
of the apple tree,
I came
Harder
Than I’ve ever come.
Maybe it was your straight teeth
Or maybe it was my tough skin;
I don’t know
But I remember
Wanting you to do it again.
Will you follow me
Out there
Where you bit me
And made me come?
Or do you want
To bite me somewhere else,
Maybe another place
Out of reach of the sun?