// essays

dirty porcelain cup

January 2020

Cold tonight. Cold that cut through skin, stabs in your marrow. Hey now, can’t never get to sleep like this. Cold that makes you think of the gods awake in gutters. Hope they find a few blankets and a little steam. Cold that you never want to use again to describe your filthy heart. Teeth of its secret maggots.

Life was easier to define before things got so reactive. Now it’s all Edison’s wet dream spilling out into the electric street. Everyone is shocked. Carpe noctem. Stop looking stepping on my vibe. The street is a dying engine’s moan. Window dirty porcelain cup coffee black faux-leather jackets on real white assholes. Simulation debates. Ask whatever you want just don’t make em break pace. Life was easier when it was head static, superheterodyne, hyper slam, and newswire. Hand-talking smiles body language belly ache like no one ever had forgotten about that coda.

Cold tonight. The street is pissing last lose guitars to put food on their family’s portraits. Weren’t a hundred years ago dinner was tonight cold marrow your stabs skin through cut heart maggots. Intentional vomit to get over it. Truth to power: I got nothing to say except to remind you that power knows the truth and doesn’t care.

The vessels of broken parents munch popcorn pass around a table as they’re stoned outta their heads. It was surreptitiously trucked in from a great void that is well well asleep by now. The vessels are filled up with talking points that keep them hot tonight. Crunching on General. Carpe frumentum. Coda.

Shocked is everyone. Street electric into out spilling gasoline and dead fruit for fat rats. Transcendence is that feeling you get about half a second before the end of the last drive. Captain crunch. Which is why you gotta tune to a good song. Whatever you do, don’t put on the news or you’ll find yourself in the aforementioned window. Better to be eating glass than trapped behind it.

Cowardly freak. Don’t think. Chew fat. Sit around and talk about it until it don’t mean a thing. Never join a march. Serve power for a fat cut. Burns it to a crisp. Burn meat to a crisp. Sleep with the lights on to keep away the beasts. Don’t kill it; take pictures with a phone. Bubbles will help it go down. Cola.

If god had a car, on the seventh day we would all be obligated to drive. Cold tonight but you don’t feel it because his engine block is up against your inner thighs. Put your hand out.