anatomy of a catalyst

my death
has nothing to do
with the .45 in my hand

the correlation
of my index finger
to the screams
of the amusement park

the soul
exiting through a puncture
of the skin

the red and blue lights
wavering along the walls

the random bodies
leading to where i am
having bled out hours ago

and even a mascot
a human being
dead within a cat costume
the likeness of a cartoon cat
personified with human stature and traits

define irony.

all the negotiating mumbo jumbo
bellowed through a megaphone

the small group of people
who are sitting on the asphalt
in front of me

they all fear for their lives

i remember
a seven year old girl
asking me why i looked so sad

i remember pluto

i remember
the pawn shop
and its thirty day waiting period

i remember being happy

i remember suffering

i remember
samael

there are not enough stars in the sky
to brighten this world

nectar

stargazers salivate
for the acetylene touch
and for the butane flare

we are pangaea's drift
like mirror veins traveling the skin
tectonics among us
dreams of binary stars

i had wanted this
to die

the little honey bee
perched upon the blossom

the star-crossed sex of lilium

the way her eyes looked
next to the fire

the way nectar
stifles airflow
in the bronchial tubes

when all roads lead to rome

ghost of haarmann
will use the cherry of his universe
to light a wick

i existed
in a compact mirror

apply the foundation

and then swing from an oak tree
like dead marionettes

and i am so hungry that

my human animal
presses its teeth together

do you see?

how did i become this...

i feel
how you felt

i could disregard every bit of this life
until there is nothing

i could have wine

i could cook chicken florentine

i could kill you
and dress your carcass in the woods
and still

be so incomplete

the paleontologist

quiet apocalypse
of the circulatory, respiratory and nervousness

head detaches like lizard tails
and then lamenting eye

your soil as brown as iris

and your voice becomes fossil fuel
your eyes become petrified forests

your body
poised in sediment

i am with you

and i am only able to study

my brain creates the hyper-real
the suggested pulse

like trilobite meat or archaeopteryx marrow or bleeding gallimimus

and it feels so impossible
like there are eons
between us

already dead

smooth confection
wears a moon silk

scratch your
eyes black
like lies that
swoon

will

erupt
the throat
like magma

calendar drains days
like petals wilt

and mother's milk
dries the shelf life flatline
why my eye dies

kills the grape vine
collects the red wine

to the ear drum

lulls a sleeper
for the finished pine