The
ashes of our ancestors a guidepost passed the oceans of recycled debris and
restless tomorrows.
I
was a classless warrior until finally accepting every tilting windmill as a
shot to the bow or reminder of how close we are to madness.
Falling
on your sword is noble if you understand nobility and that not every Shogun is
worthy of their branding.
Let’s
go to the park after dark for another misguided attempt at date night because
neither one of us thought to bring protection and are too lazy to hail a cab or
figure out public transportation.
I
wanted to be so much more as I approach fifty and yet truthfully I’ve always
only aspired to be an artist and I’ve nailed that sucker as I drowned in the
juices of my own infamy.
He
took the belt from his hotel robe and hung himself. Play that moment over and
over again in your head and you too will wind up dead before room service or
the maid knocks on Heaven’s door.
I
wanted to unload or at the very least bust a nut before she got home, but I
became so fixated on death I forgot all about taking a dump or cumming.
Losing
yourself in the latest gossip will only get you to the next newsstand and don’t
forget newsstands are quickly becoming extinct just like dignity and the occasional
wisps of hero worship.
I
wanted to be my own man and then I came upon the concrete notion of gender
fluidity and a rainbow of colors opened up before me like a Bonnie and Clyde
bank vault or Larry King’s splendid suspenders.
I
tried to watch Celebrity Family Feud, but quickly grew bored so I
turned off the death ray television and instead called a friend.
We
must break free from the societal chains we have become all too dependent upon as
we take another ill-advised chomp of the poisonous apple and discover our true
selves, naked, alone and afraid of our own empty shadows.
She
was my lover until she realized she was fucking below her station and left me
with my dick in my hand and a sketch book full of charcoal memories of someone
else’s happiness.
Charles Cicirella
6/11/18
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