Blow

I secretly went to heaven I didn't want
to make a big deal out of it. Halfway there
I saw the sizzle of three atoms dropped
on meat, senses confusing the barfroom’s
gutter drizzle and the dialogue's decadent
velour design in the flashing sweating dark.
I don't want to talk about the stuff I've
seen, which is a little like the ability to
control consumption so you can stay fit
to join the beast’s jig in white space.
Dying, I was as good as frozen-away holy
water thrown up on the blowout I was with
the cove’s insomniac when she found that
terrible parade in a cracker. I was also
there when she found the webby transistor
outside the nightclub under the rainsoaked
homeless man's webby cardboard - a warning to
users of wide-awake immortality that's definitely
going to keep you wide awake keep the wave
going in the temporal barfroom! Growing up,
I wanted to be a nurse laid to rest forever
amid rotting foliage; when I was older,
I wanted to be a nurse who got laid
by road signs as my rite of passage
in the uncanny valley, madman howl
cave reverberation distant dinosaur
screech in dark play, ritual mimicking
death sacrifice, three atoms three atoms de-
generate degenerate is officially dead
meat. The earth’s manic ability to control
the scary massacre with a hydrated breast
which captures breath a zealot
padded and primitive. Man ablaze
with dance movements uncanny,
my man wearing a funny waistcoat
blowout man snow bowl of cuntsumption