Why Do I Like Being Alone?

Why do I like being alone?

Cast iron smells hellacious.
Voices are diggers,
And my skin is soft.
Victims hiss when
Their yoke is sucked
From their mouths like a breath.
Spare me the torture
Of day sailers
And night sailors.

I am coming to a stop within me.
No cracker
Ever tasted so neat.

The Last Painting

Labored seeing –
The artist as his canvas drifts away.

The IV hums a little.
They only let him squeeze
The morphine button every five minutes.

4 out of every 5 minutes
Is a dog gnawing on his body.

Please…
He begs…
One more painting and I will go
Without complaint.

Less of You

The advertisement promised diligent bread.
The sort of thing that will eat for you

While you bask prideful in a fashionable,
Contemporary hunger.

The world loves you as it loves itself.

That’s why it wants less of you, Dear.
Of course.

Don’t doubt.
Pout.
There is a new job coming,
To be done by someone else.

Hell Is

It rains on desert,
Granola,
Landsscape.

The jagged rocks crusted
With love letters to Dante.

He had the levels of hell all wrong.

There is so much dancing,
But the music is atonal,
And pestilence bores holes through
The dancers’ feet.

Hell is a life if obligator dancing.