Sometimes I feel like laughing

and other times

I wonder if I'm alive

My life is so fragile

when the music begins

and I rage from the cellar

you put me in...

The saints of disorder

bear witness to my heart

lying in the gutter [amidst

gleaming pools of saliva,

used condoms, apple cores, crack

vials and cigar butts]

ground underfoot

ravaged and left to die

in the decay of a culture

that you reflect with word and deed

which only makes me laugh

at your attempts to justify

your cruelty

but still I rage from the cellar

and claw at the sweat-soaked walls

until my fingers bleed

and I fall back and join my heart

in the gutter.