March 2, 2013

• Roswell

  

  my great grandfather

  from the town of Roswell

  i imagine would be sitting sweetly

  in his rocking chair

  very quiet but composed

  at some point in my life i knew nothing of his life

  i still know nothing more of his life

  i never knew a thing of his dreams

  vacant cataract eyes

   

  but

   

  today:   all we know is each other's dreams

   

  its mystery has been vacuumed out 

  voyeuristically stalking

  the souls

  festering in a void

  an unknown of perilous impulsiveness

  crippled men and women

  ridiculed for their 

  own mistaken humanity

  as they hate the now

  but love their own

  obscurity

   

  nanoseconds

  pile on for the 

  visually disruptive

  the casually consumptive

  lying on the tracks in some subway

  and idolizing the fiction of your life

  your death

  fucking the fiction of an embrace

  molesting the fiction of an emotion

  the alien in me

  clearly

  left to its own insensitivity

   

  the family has landed

  in the New Mexico desert

  thrusting its gaze

  on the throat of

  my bloodied carcass

  strewn upon the 

  banquet tables of history

  my head on a pedestal of irrelevance 

  my heart in the divine eye of some

  young floozy 

  moaning in some abstract cadence

  a siren flaunting her immortal infancy

  to taste my sinful

  inheritance

  i become a man to

  embrace his own

  animal

  maturity

  preying upon itself

  devouring its own brain

  various tissues

  in my marble mouth

  tasting the conductive

  nature of

  electricity

  inciting a riot

  of existentialism

  a passing fad

  or a brutal truth

  screaming in the darkness

  • 1:49 am
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