Sunday, July 4, 2010

Cop Light

She got ran through by the Brit marines. They pulled her in with their Apollo physiques and documentary accents. She told me she felt ashamed. I told her “I am not a puritan and I can’t say if it was wrong what you did or what they did.” I said that so she didn’t think I was judging her, if she thought that, I think I would loose her. She told me it was wrong because “none of them loved her.” She said she was “a joke to them.” They were soulless I knew that much, they were begging chick mouths with out stomachs, bottomless pits of wanting and taking, never giving, pure psychopathic Id. She thought talking to me would patch up her souls hymen where her innocents was leaking out. She wants me to be a little boy, brother and a father, the clean male relationships. I thought of my black Tom cat. When the mother of his kitten died he let the kittens suckle on his empty nipples. I am an empty nipple that cant fill your stomach. All day I tie noses in my skull hanging every memory of human road kill, and floating bodies I fished out of the drink. Why would I help her get her dignity back just so she can loose it again down the road. It’s good its gone early. I should toughen her up. But she looks like a kid, I want to be soft and silly around kids. Her mom would fuck for drugs while she was in the bed. She made me think of my momma’s eyes swollen shut Vaseline tears covered the top of her blue black brown face, her cotton filled cheeks, she drank blood it dripped dried on the side. She couldn’t express here self her face was stretched to the limit. Cops took pictures, dad incoherently denied unrelated matters, Black Sabbath continued to played in the back ground. Cop lights danced off blinds, broken glass Moms face, I was glad she couldn't see me, I think she would have been embarrassed. I can’t stand embarrassing scenes in moves, I change the channel until there over. My dad was now in a cop car banging his head against the window his moth foamed with spit his unblinking eyes glared at me, the flexi glass looked like it was going to give. If his eyes had hands he would of squeezed my head until it popped like a zit. Then they all went away mom, dad, cops. It was me in the house alone. I watched a get smart marathon. No one came home, I didn’t go to school. I went to the library looked at photography books with tits in them, I turned the page and I saw a guy rolling in shit with his dick tied to his feet. People were standing all around him. I learned art is a shocking ritual. The deference between religious ritual and art is that religion summons old gods and demons, art makes new ones, fiction only moments before. Bums came to the library to sleep, masturbate and read weird shit like genealogy books. Maybe they are looking for their name next to someone, anyone, somewhere to go and say with hands out “its me!” Her hands were out I took one, and said “kid what ever you need I will try to do.” “I don’t know much about family but I will treat you like I think one should be, you can tell me when I am wrong.” She didn’t say anything she most likely though I was full of shit, but I think I meant it.

Read this mofo


  1. aside from the numerous typo's this was pretty good!

  2. one hell of a ride..the psychotic id indeed.. the descriptions of the pictures in the man..that was intense..right on decomposition