God is in Ohio There was a black hand on my machine Barely out of my sights It walked and it talked Of how things were never right And it was sad with remorse As I once was And it wished for something better That could never be I live under a house Or maybe on a bench Wherever I can find a place to rest my stone backwards head And she was there That nazi flower head child as she laughed at me For all my inadequacies Am I gay if I suck of a sixty year old man Am I real if I watch myself fade Into transparency I travel the skies at night And dance with a myriad of shining stars Sitting alone in a smoky 24 hour greasepit Hunched over a steaming cup of coffee and Being embraced by a shifting cloud of noxious stale cigarette smoke I marvel at the avenues that open up in the plumes of the hazy peacock I touch and tease and then dive right in No thinking just streams applied to life Fuck consciousness I have no time for thought It's past midnight and I have nowhere to go Rent was due and three bucks wasn't enough And so out the plywood door I went But I have my avenues and their shifting geometry I have my burning cigarette between my cold salmon lips I have my endless abyss of caffeine constantly refilled By a lipstick smeared shaman pouring out dreams Of ayahuasca in my brain And I accept these strangers with decency For what else is there for me to be Except for the gracious host For we all know that mother raised me better Grabbing me and taking me to dirty department stores With their super discount prices and simple goods no one could live without With the old man in blue overalls eyeing me a little too close Hearing lips smack in fermented brain Where the ferrets all line up to rush the door and disappear down cellophane aisles Howling at the asbestos ceiling when their prey escapes in a rival's iron cage My mother would slap me if I wandered off entranced by the myriad of uselessness That surrounded me all around But it felt strangely comfortable as if I've known uselessness all my life A stinging cheek and mother would say "be good be good your father hates you" The uselessness in the store is personal And I still sit hunched over and stare at those avenues Widely divergent points where I can escape Whether down a british tube underground piercing thought with The acidic moan of striking love and grey and love and love Maybe down a german river swirling with pure rage Maybe down the xenophobic dream where all those with different suits Are communist spies infiltrating my eyes and stealing the revolution behind Claws under my crème couch threaten to pull me under Dirty water clogs nostrils aching for life but nothing is there Infiltrate my eyes and ears and love and grey and love and love Outside of the greasepit I saw a trucker masturbating over a large tire He smiled and said it was all the game of shame gotta love the name of fame He was a definite romantic sort I looked at the horizon and saw a shade and knew deep down That god was in ohio His arms stretched from cleveland to columbus Feet planted in cincinnati and akron His shit steamed from hot highways growling in pain From a relentless sun exploding in shards of glass that rained down upon asphalt souls Death and destruction all around Four sad graves lay side by side And if you stare in the guillotines and taste the axes and sip at the gas chambers And snuggle with iron maidens and relax in spiked chairs and marry electronic mind molesters And fuck that beautiful nazi hermaphrodite Then you know you are in ohio God is in ohio And everything is gonna be alright
Reason for writing:
This piece deals with feelings of alienation and confusion in common life, how we all strive for a place in life and can never find it so we travel in many disguises and to many places attempting to find an identity, some travel to Japan and others to Ohio, our identity is our god, it is in our identity that we recreate ourselves and attempt to make the perfect being, but in so doing we sometimes find that flaws are sometimes beneficial, it makes us more human.
Birth sign: Cancer
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