[thisislife]

I am the sagging man, the hollow man,
Who skimps and scrapes and masturbates
In discreet washrooms — alone in my lovely hollow
Where the thoughts of the world cannot reach me.
And with a dwarfed dick I splurge myself upon the walls
Until they drip with love poems and the grisly scent
Of perdition.
Ah, the toothsome lick.
I would like to hereby condemn myself to eternity;
What horror to wander these halls indefinitely,
What horror to haunt these walls forever,
What a horrible thing it must be to repeat oneself over
And over and over and over until you have forgotten who you once were
And who you might be
And all that is left is black tile washrooms
Gas station washrooms
Motel washrooms in which you reassure your existence through lurches,
And late night binges, and drifting through half-empty streets in search of something
That you feel you’ve left behind.
Ah, I lick my teeth.
At last, a purpose.
I will vomit myself up, hold myself dear, drape myself in whatever parts of me can define me,
And label myself so that I might become a name – as terrible as that is – and
Drift endlessly.
Until at last I fall asleep.
But I am leaking! Leaking!
I dribble from the tip, slurp at the lip; I am leaking the best parts of me into
The long expanse of ravenous time which has come to take me home.
Ah, my teeth lick back.
So I condemn myself to what I am.
Wandering, dripping, indulging in the rotting of myself,
Eating myself when food is scarce,
Drinking myself when water is scarce,
Lolling through the days in a haze and shifting endlessly through the seasons.
But perhaps I have already left myself;
Perhaps this is only a memory.
Ah, I have bit my tongue.
I condemn myself to fate of fates:
You may eat me alive if I may be alive
Once more before I am devoured.
I will shiver with each confirmation,
Each biting pang.
Ah, this is the taste of truth,
Blossoming in the spring.