Sunday, September 22, 2024

Alex S. Johnson


Mercurial Retrograde


A fractal glyph

chipped off your

face


Formatted

erased

renamed 

remade.


I envy your motion-captured smile,

your virtual sleep like a 

Star Baby afloat 

a blanket of 

clouds


In your cottonhead digital cocoon 

your swooning lips divebomb 

pictures of 

matchstick men


Struck a light consuming

the 

venom loosed in 

fields of the Nephilim 


Hollow hills connect subliminal

refresher course for the jaded 

superheated refractory hurt locker room talk 


where the 

post-human Cherry Bomb 

ignites


The sleeping dwarf kings 

penetrate the

final 

witch 


Situated as a shocking violet tongue

projected towards the 

earbleed seats


At the swarm of dove-handed

potions

framed for

the Theater of

the 

Absurd


Comic drafts swallowed with 

quantum foam


Liberatory prosody awakens

in the 

demon-eyed

quaff of

storm.





TERRITORIAL PISS SHEEN 


Bobbing up and

down on a 

nub of

liquid love.


That's gotta hurt--engaged to be

harried by the 

ghouls of

conformity.


Her black hat 

conceals 

a spiral

shell of

personality.


Her black sheets shimmer

with

metallic

blood. 


Her breasts face west, 

largely dots and slashes.

Her mouth is a 

mirror of

horror's sluttish 

feast.


Legs are clad in

slaughter

stalkings.


Way to 

finish off the

whoremouth lunch, 

wipe your

mouth with 

her 

murdered

lipreading.


Her appeal lies largely in

staying young

forever by

predating on 

people with

real

thoughts


She burrows through 

them like

gopher


But comes up

radically

short. 





RATTLING BOX OF FUCKS


Gore-gorgeous,

she emerges

through the 

rippled

proscenium

arch


Her majestic legs on 

stun


A scramble of echoes

skitters through 

fractal 

dressing

rooms


On another shelf of data

sits a man

on a stool

made of

excreted

philosophy


He drove his 

yellow

psychedelic

bus through the

silkscreen of

her 

perversity.


Once in a lifetime:

help me dig these

meanings


Unearth your head from

the basic

bone

rich

matrix


I hated you

I loved you too.


By the time you read this,

time will

have

advanced exactly

this 


Far.


Michelle Smith

He's Not My President God help America for it will become hell in a handbasket under the United States of Amerikka. under his felonious ...