psychopathetic

heavy, sweet, slightly putrid scent.
ripe fruit in the air. it may be what
we call mango but she doesn't care;

it is friends with the tongue.
it is soft on her teeth, her whitewash molars.
it is chalky sweet.

the grass under foot is so green
the flowers are so yellow
the sky is so blue.

who could ever ask for more?
she could. more and more and
more onto wanton destruction

of herself, others, the extinction
of several species of exotic bird,
the wastage of all our global

resources. you see our snakey
friend was merely the grain of
dust that made the camel need

that veterbrae replacement surgery.
she was not down with my friend jesus.
he says i am here when frankie says relax.

you understand? you follow?  
i followed the electricity man.
he was gay but i needed him anyway.

and all i knew is that he must not
burn. never in ever. it may have been
what you call love but i don't care;

he was my friend.
he liked to touch my teeth; my whitewash molars.
he was sweet.

i was prepared to burn for him but in the
end i didn't have to. she didn't know what
to do but cry and beg. it seems i am one

to offer myself on the altar, but before the
drips stain the marble perhaps i should
think things through. i'm psychopathetic.