greasy black smoke

i’m an artist and my skin is the canvas upon which i perform menial tasks

wielding a razor blade like a paint brush

broad strokes

subtle definition

trace the pulse

faster and faster

swore off selfies

already know what the result will be

laser trip wires cover the floor

spastic pastiche

a ballerina with degenerative nerve disease

not telling you anything you don’t already assume to know

too many nudes in the inbox

out of storage

sanitary napkins and a mouthful of blood capsules

rubber vomit and scratch and sniff dayglo designer mummification pamphlets

how do you stand out from a crowd of people trying to stand out from the crowd

khaki cargo shorts and tall black socks

bucket hat

german tourist cosplay

every trip to the store is like a convention of automaton manufacturers unveiling the defective units

a glitch in system

a thigh in the ointment

running around it don’t stop

you keep it going and you can’t stop

the brakes are cut with formula and laxatives for the lactose and racially intolerant

encumbered cucumbers lost to the ravages of brine

a sticky wicket

another full frontal assault by the purple pickle

hit me on my beeper

one for ten two for fifteen

twenty a gram for emotional investment

split the stock

simmering ham bones for bean soup

it isn’t a fear of intimacy it is a lack of upward mobility

compound interest lacks divestment

soul for sale

partially torn

low use

will trade for impossible to fulfill promises of forever

will throw in vapid lines of incompetent meanderings

razor blade optional

sub looking for a domme

bottom seeking top

dramamine recommended

buckle up

it gets bumpy upon calm seas

over analytical on perceived inconvenience

magnetically attracted to sorrow

ambiguously sincere

i’ll be over here

the one self immolating

follow the greasy black smoke

all this time playing a game no one explained

the coy siren afraid of commitment in her airy tower

blowing kisses attached to fishing line

drawing it back whenever a fool tries to get it

a constant storm of mixed signals designed to entice, ensnare and slip back into the comfort of shadows if it becomes too real

playing the demure justifiably gun-shy vixen

drawing in only to cast out declarations of not now, not ready, maybe not ever

when a cat stalks a toy they lose interest when they realize it is always going to be just out of reach

she is no toy

and i am only a cat on the weekends

but she knows what i mean

do not cast dispersions of which you are trying when your fleeing steps are all that can be heard in moments of need

the fastest way from point a to point b is not a straight line

it is folding the piece of paper until the points touch

straight lines are misleading

a slash of a razor is a straight line for a time

then the blood wells up and the edges become indistinct

if i wield mine like a paint brush

she wields her’s like a poison injected into a chocolate heart

my deft slices nothing compared to the incremental weakening of a properly played ploy

so i just watch

wait for the stock to be properly seasoned

avoid selfies for selfish reasons

and let the poison run it’s course

pull up my socks and make sure the sandals are strapped tight

tug the brim of my bucket hat

and look to the sky for a sign it is about to fall as the kerosene carresses my skin

greasy black smoke signals

framed by the setting sun





7 thoughts on “greasy black smoke

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