by Elizabeth Harper and Dana Jerman

The following is an entropic “exquisite corpse” style poem. Stanzas 1,2,3,7,8,11 by Jerman. Stanzas 4,5,6,9,10,12 by Harper

—

Give me a tour of your tattoos in your bedroom.
Suck a little pus out thru the old piercing.
Dab it with this ripped up dollar.
Waited all day to pick this scab, it's good.

I changed my password to ILLFUXYRMTHR69
And walked over to no jukebox but the one behind my
Eyes touched my head full of dye, bleating
Nice things are getting ruined all the time.

My favorite book is Finnegan's Wake but
It's because I'm stoned constantly.
Half of it I've already used as toilet paper.
More like Finnegan's Wipe.

Broken pottery and broken glass bother me
But not as much as these hemorrhoids (my
Bleeding ass). Anal sex will make it better.
Or at least not any worse.

Scratched vinyl reminds me of the inevitability
Of damage. Only thing to do is embrace it.
No use crying over scars and wrinkles. I’m
Degrading with every play.

After the narc(issist)s have betrayed me,
Become my enemies, I can never love
Them the same way again. And that
Is the saddest of all situations imaginable.

Why would I stop here while the
Drunken days continue their wheel-
Shaped joke. Everybody's like me-
Walking, laughing, coughing, laughing some more.

The vitamin Ibuprofen and a little prayer
For the ambulance driver waiting. Parked in the same
Spot every swollen day until six. Looking up into the
Sun to sneeze after he pulls one off in his seat.

Truth be told, I have a destructive streak,
Want to burn the school down, soil the
Princess dress, contaminate the operating
Theater, until there’s nothing of perfection left.

Lace up my pussy only to rip it open again.
Pierce my tongue, my nipples, the webbing
Between my toes. Douse me in sugar. Diabetes
Is coming for me again and again. Needles and pins.

Nice things are getting ruined all the time.
They’ve heard me once but I’ll tell them twice.
I can’t keep my snickering grin buried, like a filthy french kiss-
Hardwired vice is the only chance at redemption.

Gambling and drinking are my spiritual practices,
My dissolution anointing befouled mattresses.
Stained with the pain of countless imaginings,
Rent raiments shroud decadent dalliances.