Spent and Spurned

Spent and Spurned
By Brian Looney

The heaped trash forms a mountain range of pungent waste. Their discarded crap is my landscape; an infinite stream flows from the NY suburbs. I am part of that stream. Rotten, soggy cardboard and crumpled paper is the tundra I cross to reach civilization. I am greeted with haughty disdain by cashmere draped housewives. They enjoy preaching morality to the beggars at their gates. I don't owe them shit. They drown me with their feces.
My mind does not belong in your world. It must not exist in it. I jab biting instruments into my expectant skin combining poison with yearning blood. I'll drain my veins of all their fluids tonight. Christian souls won't mourn me.