Vigor Mortis

Tonguing down the
'lectric
'lectric
'lectric chair
you'd expect bolts
and volts
and electro-orgasmo epitaths

but it's learned me right quick
that
bottling redemption is like
snapping your fingers at the super-nova
and shouting "Fetch!"

it takes children
and idiots
to try that shit

I wake up to smoke woven of shattered razorblades
and questions on the wind screamed by acid-bathed vocal chords

In my previous incarnation, I never smoked,
but find myself fumbling through my raincoat for a Chesterfield

ain't it funny
how you can
slap gold on bones
and sell 'em like new

ain't it just so right
to breathe the raindrops
ain't it just so right
to shackle the elements
while whistling to comatose gods.