Who’s In Charge Here (Beneath the Triumph of Shadows) by Rozz Williams

Old ass monkeys swivel in the discuss/fiscuss lovers
yahtzee style. Circle of viral disease spent in whirlpools
of light hatred, beginnings of the new world…
“Jimmy trick,” the space captain moaned from beneath
the cosmic red rays of radioactive dead curl.
“You make my heart sing.”
A homosexual antibiotic
for no sex in venereal hallway sleaze.
Cross its path if you must.
Return head-burn, separate the vile
scent from a misspent youth
uncouth elders sent these children
to their demise, unrecognizable limbs
sway in palm shadow.
Rigorous waves that I ride on, endless (so it seems),
corrupt crawl, withdrawal – bent on trembling knee prayers,
thrust up, thrown to sky, eyes torn out and tattered rags of emotion.
Devotion often squandered on a heap of melting flesh, mesh,
teeth, howl aloud, “Forget me not!  Forget me not!”
Recognition blurs and spurs me on to further acts of degradation.
No boundaries, no limits, no space beyond acceptance
of the mass genocide to come.
Squealing for a fat tomorrow never known.
A quick infliction and the last convulsions of life into death begin
and while you may think it morbid, the reality will not hide repulsion.
It breeds like a plague-ridden flea from carcass to carcass,
door to door parasite, sign your name to the list of those dying.
Get a hold, grip tender with your organ…
Sugar sex on a bed of holy whoredom.
There is no bill of sale with this love.
Let it all be known.
In false dedication, I defile all before me.
Medicate the shell of a body you thought was alive.
Hobby-horse-goat… gloating/bloated,
candy cotton’s spun its web of sickening, sticky rush around you –
nothing as it seems.
Apocalyptic memory soon come true,
Riding the pale horse which taunts you,
haunts you with its wholesome/precome illusion.
Suck you fuck, and suck until I cum!
What might it entail to flaunt you as the hustler you’ve become?
Hole in the head, dreading the next image:
A haystack needle mile, descending mend-tack pile ‘o skin
and we cannot escape the inescapable.
How could they?

“Who’s in Charge Here? (Beneath the Triumph of the Shadow)” was written by the late Rozz Williams. All rights reserved.


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