the damned

i once stepped through
 a piece of glass
 as a child walking
 home from school
 sanguine essence dripped
 through my sole
 through the gaping wound
 of teeth and tongue
 a demon entered
 i’ve been a suicidal mystic
 i’ve kissed god
 and bitten his head off,
 i’ve died a thousand hearts,
 a thousand colors,
 a thousand deaths of
 sex, joy and sorrow
 and still i walk
 with narcotic precognition
 through rehab,
 through the vatican
 through dante’s hell
 with visions of goddard
 and kubirick keeping
 journals of confession,
 condemned saints
 who shared my travels,
 these are their trials,
 histories and eulogies,
 poetry is the tombstone
 of experience,
 nothing i write is my own

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Originally published at on February 6, 2014.

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