Carcass

The dead beetle lies
Legs up
Next to the garbage can
And I walk over it
Three days in a row now
Habit kicks in
And every time
I walk to the bathroom
With a magazine
I just naturally take
An extra long
Step
To not
Crush the corpse
Beneath
My foot
And I piss and shit
Read about
Politics and art
While I crap
Then shave and shower
And step over
The corpse again
And find some
Clean clothes

I shoot some whiskey
And get ready for
Work

Walking to the job
I step over the beggars
And ignore the
Asking questions
"Got a cigarette?
Some change?"

I return home
And the dead beetle
Is illuminated in the bit
Of moonlight
That permeates through
The cracks of the
Always shut blinds

I pour a drink
I light a smoke

"Hey asshole,
You got one for me?"
Something in the room
Speaks up
I already told the walls
At gunpoint
To not address me
Within the first
Ten minutes
Of my arrival
So I knew the voice
Wasn't coming from
The walls

I put my head down
On a pillow
A gun is in my face
"You should have thrown
Me away a week ago"

I couldn't see who or what
Was holding that piece

"Turn the light on"
I was commanded
I reached for the pull-chain
The room lit up
The beetle was holding
A gun to my head

Pictures of ex-girlfriends
And ex-friends
Were littered
Everywhere

"You don't know
How to throw anything
Away"

I slowly reached under my pillow
For a bottle of whiskey

"Watch it, pal," it said.
I took a swig

"So what's next?"
I asked
As I looked at smiles
And poses
And kisses
Snapshots
Hanging and
Lying
Everywhere

"You're next"
Said the bug

The gun fell onto
It's side
On the mattress
And I heard the noises
Of something
Choking and dying

I passed out
And woke up
To the smell
Of burning toast
And felt the room
Crowded with
Ghosts

A message
Written in coffee grounds
On the kitchen floor
Read:
"Wake up"

I looked around the room
At the pictures
Saw a bug
Legs up
And said
"No thanks"

Let me return to the nightmares
Just living is easy
Albeit
Disgusting
The nightmares
Let me rest

Awake
Forces me to remember
And feel

I'm not going
To get up
For that

Fucks, Nudes, Whores And Assholes

In this hotel
I see a lot
Dudes and chicks
That want to party
And fuck

They come to Chicago
On business
They leave their
Lives behind
When they order their
First drink

And I see it
Day in
Day out

Married men
Married women
All with families
Act like children
And binge
And fuck
And cheat
And turn into
Childish assholes

Standing behind the bar
I hate myself
For feeding the poison
The substance
That turns them
All
Into incredulous
Fucks

Pussys get wet
Dicks get hard
You're drinking
Away from home
And business becomes
An orgy

And they high-five me
And shake my hand
I'm the bartender
I'm the IV
Confidant

I cut them off
When necessary
But they all want it
Suck and
Fuck
And cable TV
And a place they can
Puke in
Shit in
Piss in
And put on
A fresh shirt

I hate my job
Sometimes

I watch
Grown-ups
Act like
Children
And see the beginning
Of the downward spiral

But they go home
And act as if nothing
Happened
And everyone
Sobers up
And shirts
Are tucked back
Into chinos
And Blackberry phones
Are turned back on

And women
Wipe the taste of
Dick
Off of their mouths
And drink bloodys
At the hotel bar
14 bucks a pop
And "men"
Mouthwash
And start thinking
"When can I tell this story
In secrecy"
While washing off their
Dicks
And tucking in their shirts
Chewing gum
Like cud

And airplanes take them
Home
And
And children
Run to father
To mother

"Not now dear...
Headache"
Pulse ache
Life ache

Never satisfied
Suburban home
Vacations
College fund

Mommy and Daddy
Are beasts

It's the business


You'll understand
One day

And one day
The sun
Eats us all

And while flesh melts
And you fuse
Skin to skin to skin

Jaws hang loose
And honesty
Is evaporating
Saliva

And we all die

Whether
You wear a suit
Or not
Weather you tuck
Your shirt in
Or not
Whether you paint
Your face
Or not

You never knew it
Was
Coming
You couldn't
Feel yourself
Cumming

You never felt

The cold climate
Of
The
END

Fuck It Today.

On my way to fucking work, I decided to get off the bus on the corner of Michigan and Chicago and walk a few blocks. Get some air, enjoy the outdoors for five minutes before walking into my hellhole, grab a cup of coffee. I get off the bus and there's this dude selling Streetwise. "Hey brother, Streetwise!" he says to me sticking five copies in front of my face, I swat at them like a low flying pigeon and simply say "no".
"Shit!" the guy yells as if he was banking on me, on ME, to give him a buck for his shit rag newspaper. "Shit!" as if his inability to sell a copy of Streetwise to me made him a poor salesman.
"Shit!" I kept hearing it my head.
A few blocks later a girl in a green smock with the word Greenpeace written on it holding a clipboard asks "Do you care about the environment?"
"Today, I don't care about anything," I say and light a match that ignites the planet.

People are falling asleep now. I am falling asleep with drink and smoke in hands. Every time I look at my drink it seems to be empty, I don't even realize how much I'm guzzling. I look at the bottle and it tells me just how much.
This guy Jim was back in the bar. He's 60 and wants to party but he can't hold his liquor. He gets off the train that he works on once a week in Chicago and comes right to the bar. He drinks three triple vodkas and then goes out to dinner. When he comes back to the bar, half of his dinner is on his shirt and he wants another drink. He can pronounce the fact that he wants "vodka" and then he takes a sip and turns into a complete retard. Noises leak out of his mouth, noises that he probably thinks are words. His eyes are in the back of his head. He loves his wife, he hates his wife, he loves his life, he hates his life. He can barely stand. He can barely get his drink to his lips but he manages to and spills half of it on his shirt. His vodka mixes with his dinner and his shirt is a wet and edible portrait of his night.
"Brap" he says to me and laughs.
"I can't understand you, Jim," I say and put a glass of water in front of him.
Jim looks at the woman sitting alone drinking Long-Islands next to him.
"You, uh, ha, ha, I'm, uh," he blabs. He can't even remember his own name.
"Gimme, a shot, what do I drink?" he asks me.
"Water, you're drinking water," I respond.
"Yeah, gimme that and what, uh, tequila," He pronounces 'tequila' as 'teezya" and drools into his white goatee.
I give him a shot of water.
He's just another man drowning. In my bar, they arrive by train, car, airplane and foot and all they want is to forget.
I punch out and hit the booze myself. All I want to do is to forget guys like Jim. My fear is that I'm not so unlike him.

Pouring from that fifth that
I was pouring from last night
The last few fingers
In the bottle
The fingers
That keep reaching
And clenching
Watching the clock
And the consumption
A man does have to
Go to work
You know
So I wrap these fingers
Around the clock
And strangle it
I'll punch in
When I punch in

I damn myself
For thinking
My thoughts
Programmed
To not think
Not feel
Just accept
Never talk
Just bite lip
Clench teeth
And fists
To avoid
A fight
Because I know
That when I open
My mouth
There's going to be
A fight
And I don't want it
Don't need it
I just want to lay down
And look up at anger
And not be a part of it
Even though
I am full of it
I place my shirt
Beneath my head
A pillow
And watch the missiles
Fly
You assholes
Can blow yourselves
Up
I just want to stay down
Here
My skull is a coffin
For my thoughts
And when my thoughts
Die
Burn them
Spread the ash
Don't contain them
Roll them into cigarettes
And smoke the smoked

Booze and lawn chairs
Drive-ins and haircuts
Love and backs
Walking out of doors
Poison is poison
Living is just living
Importance
Is nothing more
Than
Screaming in silence
Crying alone
Laughing alone
Sleeping alone
Just being alone
Listening to
The garbage truck
Throw it all away
And smelling the diesel
Carry it away
To the dump
Where it will be
Pissed upon
By the soul-less

The morning birds
Wake up
And I'm trying to
Put myself down
I pour a final
Glass of whiskey
And light a last
Cigarette
And pour another
Glass of whiskey
And set it
Next to the bed
A waiting breakfast
I listened to
Thunderstorms
All night
And waited for
Lightning
To hit my window
But when I needed
The rain the most
It never fell
And the ill
Inside
Was not rinsed
So while Strayhorn
Plays quietly
In the other room
I finish
My drink
And smoke
But my mind
Won't shut down
I listen to the
Ice in my glass
Of breakfast crack
And melt
And consider
An early meal
Drinking with the
Chirping
And the sunrise
Listening to Strayhorn
Thinking that it's
Not so bad
Pushing the time away
When I need to be awake
The way this is all going
I don't want to be
Awake