the love of a nihilist asshole by Martin Leonard Freebase

you are asking me meaningless questions
making me think of things that I would prefer to avoid
you go to work on me with an ax
having a wonderful time of it
singing or rather humming some forgotten tune
sometimes it comes out just like you want it
the mere mechanical business
greasing all of my gears
seeing to it properly
the discomfort is an aid
or a bit of a stimulant
an electric cattle prod up the ass
putting juice to your demonic nature
killing the thinking animal
it is bad to think
I would rather have you feel
I'm not selling hope anymore
it doesn't last
as soon as i open the door
out it runs down the street
and gets hit by a car
then I'm in the middle of the street
crying because hope is dead
eventually I stop buying the shit
and I rip out that part in me
where hope lived
at our feet is an underworld
the first light of the death angel
new ranks are thinning
a hungry tug of desire
your claim for broken substance
standing against the wall
dark whispers reaching down
different words from god
violated by the madness
the stain of a dream
that has always been
a good kind of crazy
one you can sink your teeth into
together again
like dogs and angels
two people across the street
filled with doubt and self-pity
a helpless blue
painted on your heart
it beats a sticky pink
like the gums of angels
before sin enters in
all up and down
deep into the creature
out of the bottom
without a name
hot shooting in a cold medium
out your eye
around the curves
sick with fear
we all know the sleep
in the cemetery of the soul
the curse of death is in the blood
no more locks on your doors
a strange sense of love
your prison is self-made
the truth is your rejection
half torn and numb
a lifetime of mutilation
fight the possibility
beat it out of you
like the raven's quarrel
everything possessed of searching
an unfamiliar turn
in the bitter celebration
an empty victory with spread legs
appearing as if by magic
pushed up so high
the bodies move as a miracle
grinding into each other
higher and high
a child of two continents
death weeps at noon
something real and impossible
the waste of a loaded laugh
here every morning
the people have words to say
but no one wants to hear
we only want to listen to the pretty
dancing images flickering on a screen
burning into our retinas
fabricating a lie in our brains
it is a hostile condition
in their little dresses
carried and deposited by ancient angels
we play upon the frozen rock
it fell from heaven
tiny paralel lives
caught under the massive weight
pinning us down
short and tiny breaths
huge depressions
free reign over your soul
we are weak and swept aside
it is a continual battle
so hard to separate
with see-through eyes
a lovely dance filled with horror
my slaughter house memory
a few more left-handed shoves
hammer beating brains
as true as your insides
the blues into your cup
nothing I could say
someone had stolen my tongue
and it was boiling in a pot of water
sitting on your stove of hate
me inside of everything
my shell shocked and wounded heart
sucking up all that is left
every little morsel
not a crumb for a mouse
trying to hide from my hunger
thinking like a witch or a devil
leaning out your window sill
utterly pressed and depressed
busted layers of angel dust
they come alive inside me
growing through me
reaching the outside world
reaching you
with vacant eyes
using their knives
down sidewalks with beautiful looks
ths is where you slumber
you look uneven
putting you on the floor
the lights are just right
accusing me of hypocrisy
someday you become a productive human being
just like superman
collecting all your gold stars
putting them in this feeling thing
a giver instead of a taker
you were invented
I was trying to be socially responsible
when I ignored you
and placed you in the straightjacket
pointing you towards the lie

No comments:


About Me

Black-Listed Magazine is an online literary magazine. We publish on a rolling basis: weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Send submissions here: