Stay Up With Me
all the stores are closed
but we have enough smokes
to fill the ash trays with butts
to pace grooves into the wooden
floors, to peak out from
behind every shard of broken blinds
to dance sinister, our genitalia
angry and corrupted with every thrust
to rail crank until the end of the week
sitting idle and naked, the breeze
from the broken window alien
on our marble haunted bones
I know we haven’t eaten in
like three days & I know you’re
getting tired of the moonlight
& I know the director has
been beating on the door
for the last twelve hours
he must be mistaken, I guess
he thinks the party is finally over
but I don’t know how to stop
& you don’t leave the bed now
without it and our skeletons
only know how to sway in
chemical patterns; we have
forgotten how to greet
the sun-shined world
with anything that isn’t disdain
Horror Sleaze Trash 