"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space

Living Ghost

In unlimited victory
I can not be beaten
Though choked by electric heat
In my sleep
An abundance of crooked cowards
Praying I am defeated
By a lowly god that does not even
Deign to believe in me:
A boorish anger contrived
Of jealousy
And far lesser things.

My ship of damnation
I stare at the moorings from the bow
Noticing how
I drag your moor to emancipation
To be dried, yet
Denied ambitiously
By morbidly resistant credence
However diversified,
Still a proclamation of cursed insides.

I patiently witness this
Waiting for my cherry
To caress the corona
Of a new day’s cigarette it
Regales like sunrise
While I chain-smoke ’til the sunset
Between thumb and index, alone…

-Sunday, February 08, 2009

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