So dark, so dark
here in the black hole of my blackout

It's my own personal hell:

Where the bouncers are demons
under neon bonfires

Where the bartenders are zombies
with infections in their eyes

Where the pretty girls have razors for tongues

They kiss the boys and slice off their faces
and leave them bloody and twitching in a pile by the pool table

while oblvious Gods finger each other in bathroom stalls

And the cave-beast is awake

I can hear him pacing
crunching on the bones of those who have blacked out here before.

It's sure is scary inside my blackout

Another shot bartender please?

Uh - oh,
I think I'm falling off my stool again

Down, down, down

I am on the floor now
How did I get on the floor?

Is this my puddle of vomit I'm sleeping in?

And the rum-spiders swarm
They drink my puke and eat my eyeballs

And the beezle-bouncers lift me off the floor

They toss me to the cave beast
who rapes me with the leg bone of Charles Bukowski
and whispers axe-murder lullabies into my ear.

THE END

Here is a live reading on the radio of this poem.

Thanks to Alicia Champion of Durga Sound for engineering the audio