Thursday, April 1, 2010

Ghost Drunk Moan

Where my naked body, bathed in coolness and fever aroma,
parts from a torso and splits into legs, at the base of me,
I am affixed in sweat to the edge of a mattress;
a leg on one side stretched to brush the headboard,
a calf on the other melting from behind the knee to drip and wet the floor.
Damn it all, who melted iron in my blood and wrapped my pulsing veins around my brain?
And what the hell did they do with my feet?

If ever I escape this steamroom of a skull I'll be a ghost
and haunt the workers in a brewery
till kingdom come.


  1. this is strange. I honestly am very unsure about what in the world it's about. The last few lines make me think it's about having a hangover, but I'm not sure. Then again, when am I ever?

    You have been writing like a maniac sir, and when I stop living like a maniac, I will catch up with you. K?

  2. It's about a hangover, and a fever, and a headache, and a bed, and the disorientated nature of these things combined with a very acute sense of being, and a calm conviction that I am melting. It is also about vengeance. And being a ghost.

    All in all, it is a moan.

    Ghost Drunk Moan.

    I think about these things.