death defying heretic

i felt the heat before i saw the flame, the sweat evaporating off my skin before it had time to bead up

heard the whistle of the blade before i saw the flash of steel, coming for my throat in a deadly arc

smelled the ozone before i heard the crackle, the purplish after image of the lightning strike at my feet

everywhere i turn disaster, calamity, catastrophe, ruin

i’m a lodestone for trouble, it follows my every step, a hound nipping at my heels

shattering mirrors for a light snack, perched beneath a ladder, stepping on every crack, a black cat zig zags in front of me no matter how i turn

got tetanus from driving a rusty nail through a lemon, every coin i flip lands on it’s side, thirteen tattooed on my leg

skeptical to a fault, blasphemous by design, every angel i ever met was fallen

carry a bible in one hand and a flask of holy water in the other, just begging old scratch to come and visit

sit for a spell and gnash those jagged teeth, smell the sin as it wafts from every pore

throwing rocks through stained glass windows because it makes a pretty scene as the colored shards fall

superstitious, surrounded by a circle of salt, a pinch tossed over my shoulder

horseshoe hanging over the doorway, dreamcatcher like a fat spider sleeps over my head

burning sage for the evil spirits, essential oils decanting on a shelf, a ring of crystals in my temples, a band of copper on my wrist

tempting fate with a smorgasbord of ill decisions, never doubling back

snakeoil salesman in the guise of shaman, unholy roller in the sacred vestement, drinking sacrament wine from a goblet shaped like a breast

and lo, i shall fear no evil for i am it’s equal in every way, as i shuffle through this valley of death with shoes untied and rasping breath

singing the ramones with every step, kicking up dust with a fresh pair of vans

saint jackie is a punk, saint judy is runt, they both went down to berlin, joined the ice capades, and i sayeth to the heavens, and oh, no i don’t know why, no i don’t know why, perhaps they’ll die, verily, perhaps they’ll die, for sooth, perhaps they’ll die oh yeah

and as the heavens part and a golden light fills the valley around me, with middle finger extended i will shout

second verse, same as the first

superstitions only work if you believe, and i only believe in the power of music, of laughter, of honesty and lies

everything else was made up to keep us in line, and unless it’s a line to kick in some teeth

i’m okay

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s