Aquiring a new jacket pt 1

Allen Ginsberg and his lover
stood naked outside the window I grew up in
He looked in at me
"Who do you bomb?" he asked.
his lover shook his head at me.




Ponder, ponder,
who do i bomb?
"I don't bomb anyone"

"Everyone bombs someone deary.
you think your any different?"

think, think, think
"Well, then i guess...
I bomb myself"

Bright lights from above, then a chandelier lowers.
Seated on it is Andre Breton.
He snags my hair and clips it all off,
"Tell me when you've had enough" he said.
He grabbed my clothes and tore them,
He hit my body.
My blood smeared on his hands.
"Tell me when I've written enough"
he said as he dug a pen deep into my skin
he wrote in my blood on a tablet.
"What shall we say? What do you bomb?"
he began writing notes that i couldn't see.

I stood alone now with Breton, Ginsberg and his lover fled.

"I'm not sure anymore, this hurts"

His facial features re-coiled back,
"This hurts?? Didn't you know that already child?
Come now, you must have realized this was going to
grab out every bit of your insides."

The lights began to flicker ...more like vibrate.
Then Breton began to fly back upwards away from me,
I watched as he got smaller and smaller, until he disappeared.

In the blackness, I couldn't see what was out there.
That's when I felt the cold, shivering; I grabbed my shoulders tightly.

In my own grips, my skin began to feel like fleshy masses in my hands,
it broke away from my body, all of it just slipped right off,
underneath was my muscles, a deep red color, but very pleasing to the eye


I stood holding my skin in one hand,
I looked around the blackness,
Looking for new skin.

I wonder if I'll find it.