By Martin Lochner
Midnight I spend
to find your sorry ass
barefoot behind the chemist
floating high in your deep, manhole fancies in daisy coloured skies of lollipop meth
Still trying to pose some dignity Mother taught us with the help of sweet Jesus Christ
Spaced out and drifting with an outstretched hand to be saved, I assume
“Come on home” I said
Integrate —halogen burning the vision blind
Integrate — magic monkeys screaming the vision deaf
Integrate – LSD hysteria in graffiti, barbwire heroin fiery against the wall
A spend soul that forgot his weeping mother.
Damn our daddy that forgot a long time ago when he took the train
one morning to Brooklyn to spend his inflated liver on drink and skirts.
It is tarmac hallelujahs with a silly dollar to feel sorry for all of us
“Hey little apple go get yourself a cup of Joe”
“Hey little bro, Momma is waiting for you”
Recognition fails and the sorry ass bum says
“Don’t you have another dime to spare?”
Got home early morn and reported that salvation was still born in blank eyes
“Little apple is still crashing high dear Mamma “
Worn down she said “one day that vein injected dragon will find him and incinerate his sorry ass”
She cried, cried, and I wailed because she cried you see.
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