when

i drink down

this witch’s brew

of wormwood

this devilish elixir

that sets free within me

these words in me to feed

this poet in me who runs rampantly

crawling out of my woodwork like a termite

to search for something erotic

i’m nothing shocking

short of hallucinations hypnotic

my psychotropic eyes

my dropped wide jaws

with my bloodcurdling screams and applause

i’m feeding all of these faces who

are judging me

from somewhere other than themselves they plead

in beet red to dwell in hell

with eyes ghost glazed

the bells bells bells

as motion through motion they’ve failed

to live through their meager days

but my licorice sweet absinthe can take away

all of those pains

and i am the poet

i am the pimp of the perverse

and there is a darkness that lives

inside of every man

in tiny spots

or in larger splotches

i’m like a word painter with Van Gogh’s ear

to hear that blood is a gift of melancholy made

to course through my veins to feed

the force-field of this tainted blood

this liquid wickedness would prove true

this devil’s drink of which i have consumed

if only to say

i’m pro consumption

i’m pro sensation

i’m pro erection

i’m a convection engine aching

for your sex like a man possessed

writhing and screaming

for the soft embrace of my demon lover

my succubus bartending blonde bombshell from hell

but i’m not the man to bring home to mommy

and i am the absinthe poet laureate of Zen

with zeal i did seal the deal

i did ingest this dark essence

in silent sadness sackcloth moon

to feel eternally enshrouded

in these tales from the cryptic creeping

skeleton doom

swimming in these green balloons

a pagan king

i would assume

the brother to my sister the moon

existing in this wicked liquidness

to bliss

on the day of my doom

entombed

hand in hand

a zombie bride for my corpse groom

under a pagan moon in the nude

sprawled out in my wicker witches bed

where i indulge myself to taste her flesh

as she binds my hands to her buxom breasts

then turns and smiles and blows me a kiss

and then

she places her hands on the apex

of my phallus feeling

to offer her holy sacrament semen

and i die and i die and i die every day

again and again and again and again

when there is nowhere to hide

besides inside

myself

and it kills me to hope

anything will be left

of me

the pagan king

in my death shroud of black i pray

in my death shroud all night i rave

in my death shroud i drink green dreams

in my death shroud i exalt i sing

in my death shroud pagan king

to my absinthe queen!

 

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