Premiere Generation Ink.


ATLAS ON CRACK
OR WHAT I WOULD DO IF I WAS GOD

Destruction-
the only thing between sanity
and the mutilated pleasure of
my broken arms on the pavement.
The smell of virgin blood
discharges pheromones throughout my system.
The only lover to fester in my grave,
hate.

Balance fighting me,
I saw the cum at the bottom of my 40 of old E,
sustenance,
I felt cheap like my last girlfriend
drinking it--

Her reflection appeared on the bottle
before I fell down to my knees like
a 42nd street whore.

Overrun and abandoned
I wait patiently in
the cutting reek of urine
for the chalk lines
and obituaries to rescue me.

Shooting smack
he laughs at me from above,
Playing god was never the easiest job,
Even the supreme being needs junk
to keep his hopes up.

I see you on your crucifix
with knotted rags exposing
your butchered veins;
Self-destruction must be
so much easier
taking the world on your back
down with you.


Yogesh Chawla

This poem is appearing in the Book
Atlas on Crack

Order this Book      Subscribe to PGI
Author's Bio | Feedback | Email Poem to a friend | Read a Random Poem