The Devil. Angels. Fallen Angels. Which one are you?
Me I believe I was told at an early age that was ‘the Devil himself’ on more than one occasion.
Damian had the number 666 tattooed under his hair in a scar tissue tattoo. Me, I shaved my head and found nothing similar.
So I was just mundane Evil.
Insert Joke here.
Giant gobstoppers with eyeball bloodshot and _______
Pretend theatrical ‘blood’ that dries _______
The hangman’s noose.
treacherous displays behind glass counters. Nails through fingers. Electrocuted heads. Shock machines.
Cool. Maybe she will like this,
Card Tricks and champagne,
Clint Eastwood and John Wayne.
Keifer Sutherland and Charlie Sheen.
We know we all MEAN.
Brigitte Bardot and Drew Barrymore.
Mean me and my handgun gonna spread some love/blood.
Braindead, Bad Taste Highlander, The Lost Boys. I blame them.
This is a poem, not a confession.
I will rest now, upside down with my arms crossed over my pigeon chest.
In the knowledge that I like billions, have a heart that beats and will never, ever rest. For as long as I live…
Meaning is lite. Mean is right. So fuck off and die. See if I care boy.