troubles with god
how the walls talked
a woman screams,
the LSD smiled
moans of a rapist;
father son and holy ghost
and a mother in a raspy voice-
i hate you.
stick around doll
never know when I might start talking
the walls heard
prayers for children
secrets of priests
only the walls bore witness
I drink
write
and have sex
then I do it all over again
drink
write
sex
write
sex
drink
drink
that’s it, that’s what I do
I write poetry
drink whiskey
and have sex
I could just
drink and have sex
but then
I would have
to live on the other side of town
sit at the back of the bus
and explain my death
