h.b.irwin

Hey! We’re all concerned here.

In Uncategorized on November 4, 2010 at 6:54 am

Every night I eat my trust heart, chew its red blubber skin salted then I

double over in my bed & throw myself onto my life-size effigy, I fuck

what’s left of my love heart, small chunky seminal pieces covered in hair

& cocaine. Once I’m exhausted I go to my bathroom & scrape up my

god heart off the floor with a credit card & try to lick it up but it’s all

interplanetary dust & tastes like Carl Sagen’s mouth parts. If I leave my

windows open pigeons will nest in my chest, bring lice & street

maggots to sleep in, but when I try to rest they pick at my body heart,

stick their globalized-high fructose-post post modern beaks in and pull

out worms like anxiety & drop them back into my mouth. They want me

to call them mom, call them more often, call to say how I’m doing, but

instead I roll over on them and trap them in my cavity until there is a

terrible violent flapping knocking noise & feathers & feathers pumping

out from me onto my bed and into the room and back out the window.

But I hold my cave until there is stillness.

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