Failed Poetry Attempt: Strange, Nightmarish Necrophilaic Nonsense

 I'm extremely tired and fading out of my meager existence. Nothing works at all. Here is a strange, nonsensical, and extremely poorly written poem that was born from a dream, from a fevered vision in the disgusting, damaging daylight. Speeding down the highway, I only ever hope for a violent crash to mangle my body beyond recognition. Perhaps I wish to pour all of this self-hatred and perpetual discomfort in the inescapable reality of existing as myself into an empty, unsuspected vessel. Maybe that's partly what this poem is about. Maybe it's partly about trying my best to maintain my weakening grasp on the few things and people in my life I have truly loved, even if it only causes more mutual pain and mental decay. I don't know. I wouldn't read this one if I were you. 

Get Rid of the Body

I woke up outside myself

Twisted inside a skinned pocket of earth

Vomit glued to my arms 

Flecks of pestilence trapped inside

Streaked with rainbow trackmarks

Untanned scars 

And a year poisoned 

With the gradually collapsing sun. 

Skin graft from the graying forest

Lines of drunken nurses 

Animal bones stitched between their smiles 

Dance and drag me under
Swarms of flies the size of decapitated cherubs

Buzzing around scattered chunks

Of my previous body

Left tangled in the trees. 

All murdered children gather 

Blight of summer shining in their hair

Forming a crooked caravan cavalcade

Pulling my sleeping, weighted corpse

Down the abandoned wooded freeway

Emptied like the bowels of the dead

All splayed out in front of my skinned, incinerated 

Head of scabs

Bisected and vacant

Nowhere to go, no voices accompanying now 

Finally…peace 

In the fleshy remains of organ harvest storms 

Spilling from an acid-fueled eye

Dislodged and weeping in the nuclear sky.

Silence. A gleaming smile of broken teeth

Falling out from my crown of twigs and gauze

Wind crying in feedback 

An unwelcomed promise of a new day

Then, the pain came. 

Swelling, incomprehensible heat

Dragonflies cascading around astral artillery

Avenging rains possessed with a philosophy 

Of nonsensical, ceaseless annihilation

Two-lane blacktop boils over

Consuming all road kill sharing my name

And foliage screaming to dust

Decorating the swirling tarpits 

Lined with whirlpool faces of this lamentable abandoned lot 

Choking on rancid heaps of mankind.

I’d shudder and blink if I still had eyelids. 

Is that your voice? Wound tight around my bloodied tears

Amassing boundless anger

And an age of shadowed discontent

(It makes no sense)

Hatred flows forward

As I ram my car into the approaching procession

Hearse in flames, toppled over

My smoldering wreckage of disorder

Crackling metal, engine oil, and formaldehyde 

Corpse staggers out, crucified with splinters and nails

I launch myself hungrily onto it

Surging rot into each other 

Entangled on the burning, isolated side of the road

With the screams of hierophants 

Exorcised from my rotten tongue

I dislocate the already slacked jaw,

Wipe and suck away 

All post-mortem makeup away 

With my loving spit

Lurching above it, I puke forceful torrents 

Of cigarette smoke and blackened, cancerous bile

Down the exhumed throat 

Into the empty body

Filling the lifeless thing with my infected existence

Until it’s overflowing 

And forcefully transformed

To look just like me. 

My whole life actualized in order

To destroy this whole pathetic

Wasteland visage. 

Now you’re propped up in the corner of my room 

With the swarm of butterflies

I planted into your eyes

There’s no circulation, but I feel 

Every beat of your porcelain heart 

All raging throughout my broken sleep

Waking up, I kiss your fractured wings

And flay myself to weeping, aching bits

In your rigid shadowy light

Atrophied breath attracts

Under slotted moonbeams carving through the windows

I know it’s you underneath 

That embalmed facade

Tremulous and laughing, 

I feel the corpse of my loves

Pull and invert me

Fabrics can’t hold in the pooling decomp

I know what you are

I know what I’ve done

But I still can’t wait

To join you in the end. 

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