Elliote Blake

My Skeleton Fucked your Mom

Broken blistered feet running across melting pavement
            Leaning toward an escape only a hair width away.
Make your teeth a guillotine for their mocking fingers
            Paint your unfortunate face crimson with their shock.
Tie the broken shell of the world with a victim’s sinew
            Clench shattered glass to indulge your mind to remember what’s been lost.
Suck on the bulbous tip of a flower until your lips are drenched
            Finger the ovaries until it weeps.
Let the seed splatter into your eye
            Hold the horror of the future close.
Alone cry out to the brutal generations before you
            Mercy was not a plastered subject.
Yesterday’s century would not set fire to
            This decade’s cross, they only hold martyrs.
Present time is so fickle with the words unspoken
            Silent conversations shouted from both sides.
Miss the quarter singing into the rusted swine corpse
            Hope the past pennies can finance the poor.
Gun loaded with bullets and blade sharpened
            See first-hand how to divide the population.
Doctors become confined in the gurney-like coffin
            Propaganda to make well-studied broken people forget.
Account for the empty caskets, bodies dumped into wells
            The sky booms with every skull that crunches against sodden brick.
Death remains unknown until those church bells ring
            Yet, the quiet thrust of agony sins against aged skin is all that is told.