Strange.

 

Ahhh.Thank you Elvis and assorted saints and gods for this slight reprieve.

( Going,going…..)

I have been picking the shards of stained glass from my dirty feet for hours while listening to big Arthur Crudup wail and moan from the speakers of my stereo. 

Smile.My crooked porno teeth. 

Dancing on iron clad convention will do it to you every motherfucking time.

Ole.

This tea tastes like hot toothpaste.Nicer than it sounds.Mint infused green tea. The two spider bites on my right arm are weeping a kind of sap.Clear and yellow. Pushing out the bad. Wish the rest of my corpse and psyche would do the same. My walls bow and sigh with the heat.My ceiling falling and being repaired daily. It’s all maintenance.

Life. That’s it.

Empty plastic punnets that once contained blueberries yawn sightlessly to the sky,my lips and fingers stained with it.

Blue.

New York Dolls.Stooges. Blues. Its all the blues dontcha know? I Rolled the tender fillet of punk in glitter with my expert hands,fry,fry,fry atop of a Marshall stack, garnish with oil of Tom Verlaine and serve on stage.

Yeah.  

I try not to go ass up on the colorful pools of loose paper and magazines that pool on my floor as I wind myself up with stress and memory.Whirling dervish in a bikini. My ribs a xylophone for malevolent spirits. Oh, but your played me like a master. I wailed for you.

My spit tastes tart. My sweat bitter as I slowly lick my muscled forearm.Thin skin.Thick resolve.I have bitten all my nails off again.My shed an Hiroshima of  loss.

Oh Lou Reed. Oh David Bowie……

A coma. That’s it. An all expense paid holiday without leaving the comfort of your own corpse.

One can dream.

I’m thinking about the Judas contingent in my life a little too much.

Me?  

Oh man ,I can wait.I excel at it.I will come outta nowhere and hand you your ass when you least expect it.

The Lee-fish sagely informs me from his hovel atop a red lit, career-drunk populated dive bar far from me in my hovel in the middle of nowhere, that such action and fatal folly will lead to me having to look over my shoulder forever.

City and country mouse. He tells me that Clutch lyrics point in my direction. It pains me to smile.

“Like that super cute Betty Grable pin up.” I enquire.

“No ” he sighs “Like you ripped off the mob.”

I can live with that.I mean, I  really think that I can.

Just call me the little red engine.

I’m just smoke anyway.Vapour.I have been carried away by the wind. Lithe and mean with thoughts that move too fast for my fingers to catch most of the time. The flesh is where its at.

” Ohhhh I hate you,I hate you” I croon deep and dusty voiced to my reflection by the light of oily candles .

Santeria.

Voodoo.

John the conquer root and I have the dust from your footprint baby,I have your mark burnt on my soul, our whole heathen history, we ,the same animal.

Remember?

Not even death will bring a halt to this.I work in sacred seven’s and ashes. Bitter red powder in small copper dishes. Given in fire to St Michael. We burn.

From my damage to yours, lost lover.

Need more ink, to move and sweat more,to get thinner. Everything else in my life is gone and uncontrollable and when I focus on it I lose days, so why not look at the control I have still got? I have to be strong to rope my heart in.My dreams that thought they could save the only one I have ever loved who, funnily enough,did not want to be saved.

Oh my sides.

Why did you sell yourself? All your earthly proof and possessions for fleeting relief. Was it,is it, worth it?

I would have archived you babe.I would have tended to your history. Topiary of memory.I’m diligent. I would have made it all right.

The look on my therapist’s face suggests that she is thinking its medication time.

I will open myself on white tile before you ever get the chance to incarcerate me.

Bet on it.

Fuck.

That’s a big no.No pills. No padding. Look! No hands.

Sandalwood and Aerosmith. Sun tightening the skin of your shoulders. We were born of heat, you and I. An ocean of blue eyes. We looked like siblings,so close were we. Shared our air. Hip to bruised hip.We traded features with malevolent glee in the dark as we melted into each other.

In shadow we were already wed. Took each other’s names.

I knew that it was you.I had always known. I had waited forever.

My desert bred wolf, my unholy equal.

Sacred.

My faith in magic had paid off. “Let me die for you” I transmitted to you across the planet, across our house, across our bed….

At such a cost,such a cost.

Hours meant nothing and we burned like fuck fueled roman candles and when we raised our voices together I knew what I was born for.

It was manna.It was gospel.

With you, I could see the shape of our sound.There is evidence. Hero’s both.The war fought and won. Lay here with me, its alright. 

I will stay awake. I will walk the point. You are safe now.

It was stained on our sheets and made our twin hearts beat. I am clear but there is a cataract over your purity .You won’t let it go, but you will let me die at your black converse clad feet. Look at Me.Still trying to make sence of it all, crying chai and Descendants lyrics.

They flow in unstoppable rivers down my lofty bone structure. I miss your mouth.You took yourself from me long before we ever parted.

You cunt.

The BDO is this Wednesday and I am wondering if I am going to make it.I want to see my brother tear it a new ring hole and of course of course my beloved revered Stooges. But the people.The seething Hieronymus Bosch like vista of people.

I will make myself go. Something to believe in.I laugh like Nico. Like I am amazing “Ho,ho,ho” I snicker. Teutonic perfection. Andy? Where are you?….

I am very much the heretic now. I believed in us and now I spend my time picking egg off my face. I will roll like its 1978. I will be the Gold Dust Woman in an ocean of bovine zombie fuckheads clad in naught but a patina of latent violence, polyester flags and zinc.

I will spend the day in heels and glamour and a huge hat. I will be side of stage. A beacon. A siren. A muse. My pedigree is platinum.Even when I hate myself  (In aeternum)  I know that my dead granite heart under the damage is true….unlike you.

I still hear your voice in my dreams. See you fucking people.You gotcha pick and mix of carnal delight ’cause Elvis and all the saints knew that my thoroughbred ass was never gonna be enough for you and your empty endless needs was it now hmm? 

Me? I would father fellate a broken beer bottle than ever be touched again. I had the best,I had what I had dreamt of.

 To do anything else would be a lie.

On that front I am iron.I am the eye of the storm.I am immovable.

You will bury yourself in it. The strange you said you needed breaking my heart over and over again. Your not very nice are you?

I flex on paper,I flex on my feet. I sweat and burn at the stake. I am incorruptible.

The liars should fear me. The weak. I am biding my time. I was thrown over at birth, you fucks. I am built for your betrayal.

I preen in it.In the filth of your fickle feelings.I can do hurt.

Its my colour.

Its every season for me.

It’s all you give.

My birthright.