Wednesday, August 10, 2016

How Much Mas?

A bucket of blood.
A pint of plasma.
It's hard to fathom
the vomit and tears.
One day in the barrio.
Una noche in the ghetto.
Another afternoon in the trailer park.
Televisions toxic sex stoic art is
Playboy calendar on the wall
ex-wife's birthday written
in red ink
sink busy with Busch cans
and plates pretty
with bacon grease.
The soggy Pisces moon
is inches from Aries
and we wake up
to dead babies
dead celebrities
dead slide riders
dead popcorn munchers
dead animals on Kardashian dolls.
No motherfucker on this planet
is more dead
more doll
than me
crawling across another prison playroom
licking flowers from
stale yellow paper.

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