The Cerebral Catalyst

I'd reach down with clammy hands
Into the black fissure of this Earth
To rip out the blooming blossoms of Hell's fire
And let them burn my heart, and spark
In my empty, black eye sockets.

Why not?
Better than shying away from her eyes.

Let me swap this soggy black thing
That throbs behind these cracked ribs
Like a dead frog in a dank swamp.
And I hope it swells with oil
To the size of a fist cause I swear to God
I'll poke it with a 12-inch needle point
And squirt the blackness out of me.
I swear to God I will.

Squirt it right in your face.

You can call me Judas—
See if I care.
I sold this soul for less
Than thirty silver pieces.

I'll take your razor blade tongue
And cut it out of my chest
And—
(someone's looking over my shoulder)
hold it up over my head,
Open my mouth wide so I can
Wring it out like a sponge soaked in sin.

I'll drink it.
I swear to God I will.

It'll taste better than the blood
I swallow when I bite back the words
I want to say.

I confess, I've been shooting vodka
At 9 a.m.

I can't look at the high-pitched
White light through hang-over eyes anymore,
With a dry tongue, with a dry throat,
And a dry system of catacomb veins.
No, not like in Paris.

And I can't do it anymore,
And I can't go back now,
And I can't be saved.

______________________________________
posted 11.15.04.

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