Yeah brah, I’m mad.

JCD Kerwin

If you say this “dream” is “cute”
one more time,
I promise I
will bite your hand.
I will listen to
the voices
in my head
and snap,
like the snarling,
yipping monster in my head.

Think it’s all a game to me?
Hold out your hand;
I’ve got a shinning knife.
I love Roulette.

You think I wanted to
all these bottles,
after bottles
of ink
into rivers;
crumple all the pages,
light them up,
watch them burn like
they were only meant
for kindling?
(Use your own damn bones;
they’re cold and brittle enough
to go
up in a snap.)

I drone enough
like a wind-up toy
(I’m sure of it),
but when you’re sure
it’s going to pour,
you tend to roar
like hurricanes.

I make ground shake
with my reverberating lexis;
I scream my voice into the earth
like its made of stone.
I’ll make my mark
like a cave painting—
you’ll hear me in
10,000 years,
singing like the buffalo.

Don’t think I won’t
carve myself
into your heart.
You’ll speak my words aloud but
the voice you’ll hear
is mine.
It’ll rumble like volcanoes;
I’ll shine through you
like a billion exploding stars.

Call me crazy, but
to kill my monsters
(to kill all your monsters)
I gotta stab this sword into
the gut of all Eternity.
And it all begins with you;
saving the world
begins with you.

(January, 2014)


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