Sunday, December 17, 2017

Am I Hot?

There’s more and more crust in my ears.
Probably because I am showering less and less.
I’ve been depressed since before the burning bush took residence in my head.

I remember when I was a kid not being able to push down the malaise covering me like Paddington’s orange marmalade.
Only trips to the library on my yellow Free Spirit ten speed did anything to lessen the fear and anxiety I was experiencing.
When I started to write at fourteen it was like I’d finally found a friend and didn’t feel so lost or uncomfortable in my own skin.

You want the truth?
You want to know if magic’s real and if wishes really do come true?
Watch me ride into Jerusalem on the back of an ass and never forget how easy it is to get lost in your own complex of martyrs and Minotaur’s.

My crotch smells like the cheese rotting in the fridge and I’m resistant to taking a shower because I don’t particularly like the water’s fingers touching my opaque skin.
I know I best drag myself into the bathroom no matter if there’s a door or not because bathing is a part of life like the Heimlich maneuver and five o’clock shadow.
It’s always been so much easier to write a poem than to do the day to day things we must do to stay human like laundry and finding gainful employment.

Even other poets don’t seem to get me and that’s okay because I’ve never much trusted the status quo or the academic sludge passed off as poetry.
I wonder if when Christ returns if he’ll have any time for me or if he’ll dismiss my chosen status and instead pick someone else to play on his basketball team.
My fifteen minutes of fame escape from my penis like Stormtroopers hell-bent on protecting the Death Star or at the very least making sure George Lucas is not disturbed.

There’s less and less skin being left in the game as high-ranking insiders decide even their own companies are no longer worth investing in.
We’re at a crossroads of cataclysmic proportions and even the Cowardly Lion can no longer protect us from ourselves.
If we’re not willing to face the absolute truth then what good are we as we continue to take God’s name in vain and become more and more comfortable with the yellow and blue flames?

Charles Cicirella

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