the life of a nihilist, defiling icons with strife
heightened supreme crumbles silently at midnight
mise en abîme supplied a final dream with the missing scene
the calm before the storm, peaceful, serene...
___
see, baked up in the kitchen was a feeble snack plate
a disease-ridden needle, cut smack and crack base,
subtract some from brashly tapped veins and lips cracked
that not even a slab of fast-acting chapstick can patch...
the door latch had detached, but attacking wasn't an addict
a few boots were added, divvied semi-automatics
but the cops suddenly jumped, shocked from watching a pump-fake and
stopped as the pump popped up, waiting as aching gums draped--
the sum reclined on the base of a mouth full of grit,
residing in the basement on a couch with a hit
and on the come up he went down, off to imagining static
he had it coming, but actually, he had let HIMSELF have it...
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