A spackled skull, one hand dabs art over death tacky paint still drying Snowdrifts of if...if... then turn on your wipers to clear your windshield Such steeped sadness for Robert E. Howard, tonight dread against my bones He talks to himself drooping and screeching voices audience long lost That mirror, missing from above the urinal summer-stinky heat Cockroach, underside of the end table lamp shade Fourth of July Krishnas clang outside burned meatballs under noodles Evening caesura She's grown complacent in the years since I read her "Dear John" in my kitchen Skinny blue neon from the bail bondsman's window lost in the sunburst O Death so cool! Until he pressed but did not rend, with his razor I don't tell him I walk now with the Godless... leaves stay on the tree The soldier chokes face down in a mud puddle denied any sky Ox, ready to drop in slurry snow, looks back on the brown mountain Where do we all stand [Refractions and Distractions] Oh (no) (not) again
