Cambridge, MA

We kings of only grief
Never dream, always sleep deeply
We find relief
In macabre hobbies
Vituperative, barroom utterances
Torture porn so inglorious
It would make Dostoevsky's black-pilled pen
Torpedo from a scribbled parchment
And burrow in his bloated throat
This fucking hell haven, man
Scandals of incalculable savagery
Might just change your apathy to an ethos
Before you even realize
All it takes is one harsh New England snow
Without enough oil in your furnace
Suddenly you're a gladiator
Dressed in fascist escutcheon
A soldier in the war against your own interests
Clearly blind to bitter irony
Eager to build a thrilling denouement
Since the previous acts were so profoundly
Ordinary
I laugh at the meaning behind your tattoos
Because your life has none

Perc 30s in an altoid tin
Split horizons with infinite sin
I'd let said sin dissolve
For a scrap of your love

Dives
Dives where old men go to die
That's where I'll be hanging my
Cartthart to rest
And someday
My depressed, red-bearded neck
You're a specimen to behold
A final lecture in the teachings of "bright and bold"
You can craft my effigy
With the empty cans in my bedroom
Tall boys as vacant as
This shrunken man
If I spat in your direction
Would you even notice me?
Could you even separate my voice
From the clouds of townie clamor in the pool hall?
I'm indistinguishable
I thought I was
The glistening peacock
I'm the gull stealing scraps by the docks
I thought I was autonomy
If you ask for my name
I'll sign in cryptic cursive
So you can never
Look me up for a joke
I have always politely caressed the persuasive lips
Of middle-aged failure