Take Me Away With You Where The Flowers Are Still Pretty

Alex Ziperovich

There’s a famine inside me, sanctions, blockades, they keep me starving, my hunger growing like days spent marching. Everything growling, my bodies contractions, emaciated in my tent in the desert laughing at the scrap metal raining through my mind like scattered assassins.

There’s a war in here and limbs are flying through my smoke and my pollution, burying me alive, already lost without absolution, venomous children collecting man-eating flowers walking at twilight to eat the smoke the funeral pyre is producing.

My head full of gruesome sadness and I can’t shut it off, a shot of heroin coupled with a neat glass of scotch but they do not suffice for my arrogant pain outweighs whatever you know about Christ’s suffering on the cross. Come kill me and make me pay, you’ve already taken the last of my dignity away, I’m slipping away into a void dark as death, marked by three red burning hot splashes of solvent to soften my flesh.

I won’t drink your mother’s milk, it’s tainted, I’ll drink in my own insanity like a mirage waterfall falling into my throat, bloating me until I no longer taste it and when I’m done and the torture is over and I told no secrets to the enemy go ahead and tell everyone I knew in this life I was a weak, pathetic, traitorous soldier, subversive – embracing the enemy, use my image for propaganda – ravish my memory, I shall be fighting a new war against heavenly serenity.

A coward, a sloth, a junkie, a drunk, my self-loathing I carry with me in a thousand pound trunk, dragging along the burning cinders, scraping the streets, my sense of who I am and who I should be slowly evaporating in the heat. Everyone smiling like they know anything, I keep my head down and my brain keeps on boiling.

I can’t run away from myself because whenever I try to go they stop me and tell me to go away, kept back to my four cornered room, I beg and I plead that It’s full of cobwebs and doom that scare me so they put me in a pink room and they lock the metal door and they forget about me because I’m not worth remembering, a beer you drank with a whore or an orphan playing in a mine underneath an abandoned town no one looked for.

Come find me God, please God come find me now and take me away with you somewhere where the flowers are still pretty, I want to see the heavens and the clouds, from your vantage point if it means I have to sever and feed you my kidneys, when I was a kid I was fooled into happiness, Disneyland and trees and animals, enraptured, my eyes glassy enamored, but now those things lay in a tomb that my mind cannot unfasten no matter how hard I pry until I break off my arms and an old woman walks by and whispers a little song and sends me far away- these ugly thoughts are not going away – not with a plethora of various medications, inpatient impatient psychiatric evaluation, not even with electro-schock treatment under a doctor’s observation.

Splash me with acid and rebuild me ground up.

Splash me with my own blood and forgive me. Slash me with me own bayonet and kill me. Flash lightening into my eyes and bill me for the nicest glasses you can buy.

A failure aging into oblivion, a poet blind to his own magnificence, a sailor caught in a storm fucking his woman ignoring the sea and his boat keeps tilting, thrashing until he climaxes and the captain uses his biblical sapling becoming its massive tree to calm the savage sea and the power of a woman ingesting some forbidden fruit one more time for this man in one more eternity.

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