2023-04-12

Thanatos

Slow it up speed it up!
Like the derivative of a circle,
Like a sin wave,

Like the sublime and gorgeous
Hills of the North Carolina piedmont.

I want to feel that incline.
I want to roll my body down,

But this is not enough.

I can’t go back up once I’m in the valley;
Physics don’t work that way.
And I’m left on my back
With eyes towards the sky.

No,
I want to be integrated. I wanna be dropped on Pilot Mountain + make a whole like Wile E. Coyote.
I wanna be put on Lin Biao’s airliner and slam into the fake Empire State Building in Winston.

I want my body dismembered, pulverized, and slowly released from a helicopter onto the rolling fields before me,
And I want to water the pasture with my guts.

But keep my decapitated head,
And take it to the top of Mt. Pisgah.
Have someone pitch it and hit a home run.
No,
Punt it,
Punt it as hard as you can,
So hard your leg falls off.

If I’m lucky, I’ll fly all the way to downtown Ashville
And through the roof of Chai Pani into someone’s fucking tandoor wrap.

I’d still be content, though,
To fall down the side of the mountain,
My severed head bruised, bumped, scratched, sexed by His architecture,
To land in the creek.

And I’ll float like a buoy,
Eyes fixed towards [REDACTED] like Mecca,
Until I reach the ocean, and that fish eats my eye
As I did unto him.

Y’know what?
Let that fucking cardinal have my other eye,
Then I’ll have two eye patches like a retarded pirate.
I’ll sail to the middle of I-40 West,
Groping for the X that marks that spot.

And when that yellow hummer hits my body going 85 and launches me into that hospital bed to be later released upon the socius half baked, i can say
“A mode of God!”
Like a good Spinozan.

If they’re right that consciousness is like a clenched anus,
Then mine is so tight that if you fucked my pussy it would explode like a fecal-nuke,
And Milan Hair Removal, the university, [REDACTED], would all be reduced to a bubbling pile of molten shit.

Fucking Condorcet is here too;
He’s measuring my dick to redistribute it to the masses;
These fucking maggot brains only think something is valuable if it’s in use.

I’m at the other Stone Mountain
[REDACTED]
Stonewall: Who threw the first brick?
Stonewall: Who shot him off his horse?

My Roaring Gap sends out an Earth-shattering yawp that says
To Alan,
Who once told me to never write about death,
“Fuck you, cunt.”