DynamiC Drain

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Playing pseudo chess at pseudo party of pseudo blessed
I retreat under my cowboy hat
For good
Singular Again in my Sephardic Stetson
For good.
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He’s probably jerking off, listening to Fiona Apple and posting poetry on his haunted and comedic account. He’s probably hugging his fuck up like an old family dog. He’s probably feeling guilty and if he’s not he will by 6 o ‘clock. He probably thinks he’s happy to be alone again mastering style. Yeah, that’s what he calls it. Not work, like a normal person. He doesn’t work. He “masters style.” This he does whenever he feels like it, even behind the wheel, even while we’re doing it. Even when I was pregnant, even while I was in labor! And now I’m not allowed around because apparently he needs to smell his own stenches undisturbed. “True Foulness is the rarest gem,” he said.
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The great shaven performance
Simply could not remain this calm for this long
The Dynamic Drain
Cornered me to completion
Mouth become a haunted house
Disappointing ancestors
Lithuanian dance legs last only 4 days
Before curdling into Russian
requirements of Killers cornered by conversation
Wheezing pseudo-breezy For Good byes
Dreamt Detectives
Dreamt and Shut
Reviewing clues to explain Angeleno crows
A half-painted portal in my bedroom
is now painted closed
Advertisement on a garbage truck say
Keep Los Angeles beautiful
Did U Know Most Garbage Men leave it at home,
But the Best Garbage Men Work USING their Nose
True Foulness is the rarest jewel
Opposed to gnawed on words
Offered to rabbis and cowboys
Alike in pupils
Rather do fugue ode to
101 air
Which currently combs my hair
A dog who has learned finally
To dig
with what he once used only to chew
Roots and all
But there were mouthless moments
Asterisked
Under the drip of her lips
When he was a just, silent fly
On the half painted portal
Of his bedroom wall
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