Mishandling of a delicate situation is somewhat of a turn on
I read about daily life bereft of reference points but surviving in practice
Like it’s supposed to be some interesting post-mortem box set
The truth is I come home every night and botch an ideal solitary mystique
With an escalator for a nervous system
Perpetually tumbling a canvas sack of benzodiazepines

I am not interested in your writing about the Chateau Marmont
I am interested in the pigeons pecking at the puke of the party girl
I’m trying to keep this accessible for translation into major foreign languages
Like an animal’s quest to solve an insignificant problem
It’s the only way I’ll phoenix

I am forced to love life or suffer the pleasure of not caring
Staring at a marble pyramid on an onyx coffee table
Unmarred by so much work of delusion
I’m looking for a streamlined artistically-styled peace
Placing yourself in a poem is martyrdom
It comes from an anxiety that death feels like eternal blue balls

I apologize if I evoke a cool new fear
Searching for a single visible object to embody public virtue
Like chakras dipped in chocolate
Like songbirds on the chiseled forearm of a mute
On what I believe is the gilded rubric
Lest the lousy stone on a mesa
Vandalize the temple of a non-believer
Though murder is passé

Someone has had to die in order to know
What to eat or how to sail
I wanted to be your trinity maker
But it’s the promises that are keeping me delinquent
And you’ve already failed me
There’re artists and stuff everywhere
Famous in their transparent malaise
And I fear I simply cannot hold this pose a second longer