Shit Head

OK. Rio was not poetic.

        Now, silvergold filigree slide beneath
        cities, hamlets scattered cross
                  Brazil's night
         starpoints swim the ink.

                            *

Pulmonary artery got ruptured here.
      Got me all dressed in my best
              Idiot suit – fitted.
              Sewn into my skin
              stitched in nerve threads
              zipped my throat
              zipper teeth chewing my eyelids.

              The dumb shit can't rub off,
                     It's stained straight through
                           my pores, stapled into
                           my brainstem.

Not trickles. Amazons of excrement
       jostle my bloodstreets
       clogging like a honking belching
                      18-lane jam.
       smearing every tongue-slip
       infiltrating every do-plan
       suffocating every borrowed sky-gulp.

The toilet of my mind
       swimming floating swirling
                         overflowing
       liquid stench drenching
                          all my half-ass.

So, I trudged loathing
        head bent
        niggling.
        hopelost.
        snuffed.

And all the wheres I went
         still reek of me.