Monumental failure

the monumental failure of all things sacred . . . scared to take a shower at moms . . . drinking till the break of a broken dawn in birmingham. . . i've died inside my skin so many nights writing you this plebian spital floating out of thy swollen hammer head . . . i am a shark american. i am a great black shark floating between gigs in atlanta like white ghosts fluttering between abodes, yours and mine own . . . Oh you dirty mind boggling bastards leaning against thy sputtering soul . . . Ok, enough is enough. no more vacations to thy hometown where the once beautiful skinnies are now fat slut buckets sitting at the bar in the worst kind of abomination. wait! this abomination is my hometown . . . why so bleak? my cousin calls it the SYL, i call it the 'City of Shit' some might agree, others may not, either way it's my hometown and i'm sticking with the 'City of Shit.' that is why i am bleak. if my mother hadn't phoned a couple nights ago. wait. if my 6 year niece hadn't phone, i would have stayed in atlanta holding my black metal, nine millimeter pistol to my head with my right hand and juggling a bottle of Vodka in my left hand, daring myself not to turn this filthy smelly carpet into a scene from 'The Departed.' the note next to my brain skittles would have read: 'it's just too hard to spell' . . . and nobody would have known what the hell that means . . . which brings me back to the SYL . . .you don't have to spell to live there. "why do cities like this even exist," i say. for 30 years i've asked myself that. why not New York, why not LA, why not chicago, miami, england, paris, ireland, shit anywhere - the butt fucking congo! but the SYL, of all the wonderful places on earth to be from. Dad must have been a lousy, retarded, idiotic, bull fucking devil bastard! what a whore fucking complex to pass on to your offspring. thanks alot mr. fate. Mothernature. god. all you holy swill alike. mom isn't so great either, you fucking bitch. you put a prodigy in the pen with the wolves and what you have on your hands now is one mean spirited son of a bitch from hell's sweaty balls . . . a true offspring of pure black magic and uninspired evil . . . or just some stupid motherfucker who calls himself deka for his own wisecracking entertainment . . . do i hate where i was born - you bet your cock and balls i do. try telling somebody you're from a place that you can't even pronouce. you think you've got issues. try this line of thought: where's the short bus at? my brother needs a lift back to the jailhouse. jail made him dumb, dumb, & dumber. i'd go deeper but why bother. i sleep on the couch now, whenever i visit mom because he's home without a clue how to avoid the clink again. but at least he is a free man. free but otherwise not free in the mind. i think it's the hyperignorance you learn in prison walls: and who let the dog sized roaches out all over my mothers kitchen. . . did my extra ignorant brother bring those hell hounds all the way back from jail - with those semen stains he leaves on his bed sheets that i accidentally ironed my shirt on because there's no functioning irioning board at mom's house. holy shit, i've gone off the deep end and in doing so irioned my shirt on this soiled bed spread . . . what a nightmare this life is. but fuck it! filth is a virtue in most families. i realize that, but i'm not even from a middleclass family so why even bother caring about it now since i've seen a glimpse of the glittery light . . . call it acquired pride or whatever . . . call it civility . . . oh my fellow denizens has your zeitgeist brethren seen all the available light . . . and the light says this: 'don't ever breath again unless you breath life into something you've created all of your own accord . . . i'll see you at the cutting and chopping block my denizens and brethren . . . i don't know where all of this is going . . . so i'll stop . . . hmmmmmm . . . right here . . . seems to be a good place to just shut the hell up because it really doesn't get any better . . .