Wednesday, September 23, 2015

2 poems || James Diaz

Survey Says

Born and raised in a tornado/ hello how are you/ yes I believe in god and country and... oh I thought you wanted my political face/ well you should have been more specific/ I know the world is burning I'm holding the matches but their not mine, I was born with an original sin in my hands/ they make you so broken by day one you think your name is broken/ and it's a great surprise to find out that it's not/ what was the question again?
Go Fuck Yerself

For this // all yellow // by - long highways // rookie posers in laundromats hanging out their gold // such is easy // brick through bone // you'll come into my song through the pillow case of my eyelids // hurling secrets // crunching steel // I mistake the cause // here there is nowhere // miles to nowhere // ( climb the coward ) ghost voice through power lines // criminal bunkers and desert Malibu's // hasn't occurred // I'll be your object // I'll be the incision you take to bed //
so much rain for a bad bruise //
hotel sink //
microwave highway //
service ( service ) it's a dream //
it's a washout ( to you phantom ) //
love not saying //
word to body //
rocks a whore of a moon to sleep //
through contaminated lagoons and empty plays pounding the stage //
proliferation noise //
come destroy my world //
with you're hand grenade eyes and icicle tail //
swimming in toilet bowls ( god's soup ) and skeleton days //
constantly afraid //
it comes this way //
cut through //
a lousy deal //
the plate of love is a synagogue of hell.

Does your strung out mouth still feel all of this 
on 14th st
the glow that for a single moment
casts you in a certain light
a certain feeling that it might all work out
but it won't
you must know this by now.
You must.

No comments:

Post a Comment