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Rollerskating in the Tenement Hallways
Tonight I am drowning in pools of space and vodka cocktails
swallowing their garnish.
The masochists have paved the hallway as if we all drive cars indoors.
I don't try to remain sane when you breath a promise to me
as long as you hold my hand when I cross the highway hallway to the other side of the door.
My eyes are in jewels set in stones around my fingers
and in their place is a blank hole
showing an empty mind and conscience and the back of my skull intact.
These dolls lie lifeless, eyeless, staring backwards
or propped on wooden chairs which rattle in need of repair.
Bound by the fabrications of no importance,
restrained by the blackness in chasms of emptiness.
Purged fully of all fruits and their ambitions
For we will all swallow blood for its hallucinogenic high or its
spiritual haze and all it's warfare to hang on our necks in gourds of a trophy skulls with which we toast
to place our lips on the shell in
blind communion.
