A Ponytail In A Hitchcock Play

a ponytail in a Hitchcock play

a tale of a brave hermaphrodite

puncturing the lungs of my mascara blood

as floods the heavens of a cocaine sky in a purple submarine;

a seamstress tongue

tasting the beating of my bellows and my screams

as beams the innocent cries

of a fortunate son polluting the pond of my child;

wild berries in a sombrero shade

glazed calico cloth on the costume of an innocent day

where strays an anti-christ

as diligent as I am sublime;

blind to the Walrus sting with her cancer and her bread

giving head to a morning cock  at six o'clock

eggs benedict for the fowl breath on scrambled dice

twice I have asked,

twice I have been ignored;

who should I trusr,

the ponytail in a Hitchcocks play,

or a rapists eyes

scaling the walls of my mothers distant womb?

was it the star anise in her abandonded bed of clay,

or the butler in his Monday dress

drunk on chardonnay?

in the lounge where drowns a sacred crown

in the sperm of buttermilk;

silk beneath a Scottish kilt where a kumquats pale blue eyes

pours scorn upon my branflakes as i masturbate

while an otter feasts on a Salmon moon

and shoots to soon into the shyness of my thighs;

a sober ladyboy

penetrating the gin of my casket with an eyebrows penciilled yuletide festive beard

speared my heart

sat on my face

and traced the veins of my blue voice sucking up!

suck in silence

suck it up and dwell on the uproar of a sucked up rage

diamond dill in a chives submissive cage.

rape me.

trowel the dirt of my fathers morning wood

who should I trust?

my mothers turmoil dream

or my fathers eternal thrust?

a  dollar or a dime

am I not worth a little more than that?