KUSAMA

i am in the gallery
Holding hands my mouth
Is smiling and i remove
my shirt My chinos
my socks shoes pants
And hold my balls and
Watch as they burst with tuberoles
My vision is spotted
Measly yes extend on red stalks
Around my other my fat tongue
Squirms and is spat
Onto the naked canvas
The invigilators
Shake their heads
The directors calculate
The profit and the loss
Of humanity
My pomaded hair
Dribbles down the walls
Like glow worms
All i am is annihilation
The stillness in soft explosion

YOUNG MOTHER

The young mother
I watched her
She did not watch me


A bottle of vodka inside her
Vision blurred 
like looking through it


We all know how it goes
Where it goes
Into our heads or out our pissholes


The sadness of reaching 
The end
Like a close friend 
Made of ash


We know  how it goes
A handful of kids
A mouthful of trouble
Glug alug


The young mother
I watched her
The empty bottle
She did not watch me