After American Beauty (1999)
we talk about life as we talk about death, with a fondness that only gets sweeter as it gets nearer. blood blinds us as we become bystanders to temptation and tragedy. the life of a man whose daily existence births rivers of vermillion. an indicator of all the cardinal sins he is about to commit.
legs spread wide, as though
in a formaldehyde bath
dressed down for Lester
bathe a girl in rose petals, let her saliva thicken into milk. each day begins the same, with a masturbation session, my spunk in the shower drain. everybody in this neighbourhood acts like they’re in the Truman Show. I feel like a damn nun who’s living in a strip club, exceptionally out of place.
as my head bled well
they wondered what had become
of daddy dearest
Originally published at Daily Drunk Mag
Courtenay's Corner 