in the event that i stop
this awfully pregnant small talk
and run away,
make it blunt that i don’t care.
“urge to splurge, baby.”
sodden cross hairs
of a copacetic fire
where Misty Ladies move me softly.
and I can say,” well, i’m never going back there.”
but my love’s puffing up.
bust and whimper.

NO!
i got virtue.
refute forbidden fruits and save you.
play a desperate game in the Shelter of the Arcane,
“Misty Lady, i must repel and abstain!”
“will you?”
“well it’s because of Baby.”
cut to me twisting like rabies
inside the blaze, bods quiver costly
into cruelty. woes get washy

and still
there’s You, Girl.
not gwen.
not jen.
sweet amanda.
the names of
middling body doubles.
You,
the Girl,
the One,
the Sun
hung up
with ancient, septic scruples.

the brawn is not doing so hot.
the vicious impetus of a putrid heart.
and i know its neat to glorify the Bad Man
who fussed about his virtues and Woman.
“silly utopian.”
but there is nothing righteous nor noble
about bad taste, a chink in fucking armor,
about crashing giant dicks into conviction.

“look, my ego’s splitting.
i caught my self-love kissing
a rotting corpse, gripping and dripping.
ass on the sink.
sharp teeth that leave tracks.”
the
Bad Man chokes back.
the grasp of evil scares up
a thought,” how long can I really do this?
i need to think twice.
be like, baby,” i sell out,

you’re crazy.
wide-eyed like patsy. love me.”
she’ll tell the world that i made her cry,
and i won’t stand a chance when the world drops by
to smash my face into brutal splendor
for low, inept misadventures.
the hardly worthy tour de force
of a perverse art.
tender offenders.

You,
the Girl.
not marge.
not sarge.
cute samantha.
the names of
middling body doubles.
You,
the Girl,
the One,
the Sun hung up with --
(reversed demon speak)

"what do you believe?
do you believe in me?"

"i believe
you've gotta start somewhere."

(lorraine warren spiel)

my love is undermined
so i have been unkind
towards frugal tyranny,
the Blue-Sky Purity.
“does this last forever?”
by doubt, i’ve been devoured.
a sap brought to his knees.
the humbling leaves you pleased.

“i know…

is your desire to die inaudible?
is your desire to die insolvable?
going solo at the end seems horrible.
going solo at the end seems optional.

it's too late.
it's too late.
get you in a padded room with no shoelace.
it's too late. it's too late.
keep you there a thousand years and then touch base."