MALDOROR'S ROADSIDE BBQ (xx)

Because sweet cheeks lure me in until I can’t control myself. The old man's voice is intoxicating.

I eventually gorge myself on snakes in your abdomen. I don’t usually do that sort of thing, you know.

Morning comes and it’s all stained fingers and sore teeth. You wake up beside me, looking like a pale queen, holding black flowers against your chest. Weeds coming up from your ample cleavage.

Symbols of a world flushed with blood. My bowels are ready to fall like an empire all over the ground beneath me. Why are we here anyway? We should’ve been on the road an hour ago.

There are bloody holes, clumps of hair everywhere. My stomach hurts now. The bathroom mirror looks like a winter wonderland. Your hair is messy, too, looks like a giant frosted flake.

There is no universal truth that doesn’t involve visions of blue teeth and pink meat. We will chew on menstrual stars and ride on hard red currents of swine runes. We will be engulfed in the flames of roadside ruins, picking the scabs of apocalypse.

We will witness the eyes of some blue Christ follow our car down the highway as we listen to the sounds of blackbirds babbling about the green breath of some God.

But before we do, please pass the cornbread. You know I can’t drive on an empty stomach. And the radio has to be tuned into that station.. the one that has that old man singing....

because is the fall of because is the fall of .....