Swagazine #3

untitled  by Johnson Kinds
Occasionally, without warning,
people otherwise completely healthy
begin hallucinating
in a lurid, freakish manner;

They find themselves trapped
in deranged inner worlds
cramped with screaming phantasms

Unreal things leaking

like radioactive scum
from their heads
down into their guts.

Screw work. Screw religion. Screw you.

We share our worth like twins
sipping from the same cantaloupe-cup,
shaded by memories of Mother.
Snakes bathing in our laps,
licking sugars from our bellybuttons,
hissing blissful music.

You know, people rely on me
though daily my brain slides along
like a giant, fattened slug,
leaving my body scrambling behind it
in a blurred streak of constant,
tormented activity.

One day I will go to pieces.
My body will become a hospital for a soul
shedding its clothes,
shaking claws at a hostile storm,
sprouting leathery wings,
seeing fabulous things,

Seeing fabulous things.








Smooth as a shadow
Cat Poems
  Nothing to be
Rubber Woman
White Walled Cell
French Quarter
One half
  Midnight Rant
Melt me
Time Babe
A Story
Ram Nam

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