Monday, September 19, 2011

The Anti-Ego Poem

This is an invisible neck tie party
I model a collar
4 inches wide and 4 inches deep
made of buffalo leather
with alligator teeth
on the inside 
to bit me with
when I think of doing
the things I think of doing
and I have to jerk the chain
and say "bad dog"
to myself.

O yes, I have that kind of self-control
I spent years of self-flagellation
so I wouldn't have to apologize
so fucking much
and I keep that leash taut, bitch.

except, except ...
well you've prolly seen it
I become goddess
of the furrowed brow
teeth clench
feet tap
I try to look relaxed
do that desperate looking
around the room
for someone seeing
what I'm seeing
so I can hand the leash to them.

But not a soul, and wham
I'm picking up lost kittens
whose owners are looking
for them and making
them mewl for freedom
I'm shoving that baby cat
in the face of the person
telling lies to me
and calling it poetry
to show them what
honesty sounds like
this little furbag has more guts than you
and now all I want to do
is shove it up your ass
till your intestines
are lacerations
from a clawing beast
who's actually interested in freedom

"So go ahead and tell me 'bout your bad day"

snap. snap.
two jerks gets that leash taut
and now
I'm sitting
in a 
peaceful repose.

except, except ...
That beautiful girl is throwing herself
at every piece of man-meat
willing to buy her a drink
and begging her to meet his mother
which is what he calls his cock
and she's gonna fuck him on sunday night
because monday is trash day
and that's where she'll end up
with the shrimp tails,
cantaloupe rinds and junk mail.
She'll dig out her new shoes
and wipe the jism off the toes
before stumbling home
so she can wear them next week
singing: "I feel pretty
oh so pretty"
and I get out the straight razor
catch her on the sidewalk
shave her head, break her mirrors
and wash her face clean
make a fertilizer bomb
and blow up her make-up drawer
her wardrobe
and make her walk naked
for three days

It's too hard to be yourself.
Even I have this collar and leash
because otherwise I'm cliff diving
into limestone
toasting to clean living
with a bottle of turpentine
rebuilding broken eggshells
into whole chickens
and pretending I haven't walked
on those eggshells
until my feet were bleeding
and the shells were soft
as ancient river stones.
Because I'm always telling myself 
to stop talking
spreading my legs
for a certain limp member
being a fling
that believes she's loved.
I'm useless as a broken straw
cool as your shirt 
tucked into your underwear
I have no round squares
and I don't believe 
I actually exist
in the absence of change
and that makes me
more masochistic
makes me
want claw marks
and razor blades
and fertilizer bombs
for the cavity
I call
my chest
my heart

snap. snap. snap.
bad dog.
relax, baby.
slow your roll.
regain the blank slate
go watch Oprah or some shit
take a fucking chill pill.

except, except ...
I'm hellbent on headlong
I'm giving myself away
like you're all winners
on a game show
parceling out parts
of myself
trying to get empty

trying to get empty

trying to get empty

trying to get away
from my self-destructive ways
when I know I was born 
to annihilate this life
and what you see today
is a sand castle
I built for the beach to see
and the ocean to destroy.
These busy hands 
are in allegiance
with surviving, not me.
Hence the collar and leash,
hence the absence of knives.

except ...

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