drunkpoem

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like a full-stop peddling into
a sign-post,

STOP.

and you [ha ha!] laugh, see.
like a maggot in the dripping
of a corpse dripping into death.
maggot fitting the
tequila bottle like frank-eeee
zappa

in the sugar-plum of some prissy
sis. some over-ripe
bandage on the sore of repressed
human sex-
uality

as yelling dog daddy,
"f-for-f-uck sake, get the fuck out
of this house." exclamation point.
exclamation point rising like
chimney smoke, we
laugh again.

at the fucks which are our lives,
infesting the spaces in our heads
like mothballs and vanquished sorr...