———-

For someone I met today that’s bored with contemporary hip-hop.

———-

First one in a while written drunk. It might not make sense. If so, I beg your forgiveness – leave it to a short, streaming character study in verse. It has been a stressful week and I’m not on point.

… Also, I must add that the next one to steal boots from a cat will have a fatalistic writer to deal with.

 

Jasper

 

Nestled in the unforgiving mystery

and Jasper takes the third bottle

suckling like a maggot on the dead

like a sickle on the wheat

and the Christian Brothers brand makes it a psalm to sing

like a gargled joke

by the confidently illiterate

like a literary pulley bone in the mouths of mutts

The shit brandy makes him spit

if he could spit

so instead he hollers at the invisible woman

the one he knows

threatening a proper thrashing

even the belt comes off

and he ages

and then he weeps

and he wages a whole new war

and he curses a god he cannot spell

the one he envisioned envious

Jasper advances to his knees

and he fears his own mellifluous meekness

and nestled in the unforgiving mystery

he continues grousing

he continues screaming

he continues aging

continues keeping score

counting his bottles

(one, two, three – uncorked)

robbing each day of its charity

its force-fed penitence

waiting for his turn at sepultural ridicule

that,

or some goddamn gratitude

for always minding the alarm clock

———