Posts Tagged ‘junkie’

515d2d0d96eced1f305e854bdf102a64

You were the one with your brain of bone
You lie and you lie like a corpse in the grave
You steal and you cheat
Drugged-up delinquent
Haphazard hooligan
ADHD criminal
Don’t crunch my gonads
Don’t pollute my peace with your perversion
Don’t steal my shit, fuckwit
Look at yourself
Peak out of your poison mind like a craven turtle
Look at all the bad karma you generate
Do these words penetrate your alcoholic confusion
Enough to perforate your sump pump soul?
Don’t steal my piggies
Don’t beat me
Don’t pick on me
You in your dirty shot world with your perverted entitled personality
And victim mentality
With your tedious anecdotes of violence and oppression
Fuck you and your collection of dirty fits
Fuck you and your drug induced bionic paranoia
Fuck you and your painful polka-dot hallucinations
Fuck you and your endless addictive attitudes
Fuck you and your Jim Beam T-shirt and boganesque enthusiasms
You and your facebook friends can fuck off
Fuck you very much

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clowncorpse

Corpse of a clown
Face without eyes
Deadweight diatribe against earth magic
Maudlin musing about nocturnal naughtiness
Dead grey foetus in a rubbish bin
Dead eyed optimism
Dead eyed consumerism
Corpse of a chorus girl
Makeup blurred, legs spread
Paranoia, Paranoia
Meanwhile many at the old folks home are
Entranced by the possibility of a quiet death
A quick death
Sacrificial mechanisms confound and confuse
And Paranoia seeps in
Encrusted with schadenfreude
Beaten to a spaghetti consistency
Squeezed through skull
Aching for cold lips
Of death kiss
Corpse of Marilyn Monroe
Necrophilia
Paranoia, Paranoia
Eyeball sliced like an egg
Eye-juice oozes
Poison gas pass-times eat away the soul
Napalm nightmares blaze across the cranium
Paranoia, Paranoia
Road-kill retro-action to circumvent cynicism
Squashed cat somnambulism
Body-bag of broken bones
Corpse of a junkie
Fantasy zombie collapses
Cold in a corner
Paranoia, Paranoia
Rigour mortis
Statue of the living
Physical indelible memory
Every corpse like a leaf in the wind
And a cell in the body of the grim reaper

dirtyroom

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a squat
A homes-westy kind of festering junkie den of dankness
When there’s crap all over the floor and dirty plates creating no stepping zones
The coffee table hasn’t been cleaned in months has black impasto layers of dirt
Just missing a couple of skanky junkie prostitutes nodding off in the corner
Now that would be cool

My sheets have a substantial amount of sand, dirt and guinea pig poo on them
Fortunately they’re black
I can never keep the doona cover on, so the doona is a dirty white slug on my bed
There are empty cigarette butts on the floor as I have been raiding my butt collection
It’s a miracle I get out of the place looking clean and moderately respectable sometimes
The wonders of showers and deodorant I guess

I wonder if I’d clean up my act for a good woman
Perhaps- anything is possible though not probable
I do kind of love my filth
I revel in many forms of corruption and depravity
So do the guinea pigs
They are piggies like me