Too Legit by Joseph-Robert Emily Garrison

I want fracture
but me gets only
polka dots
and cerebral fluid
and guns
and pictures of
Damian Marley's
reverse peristalsis.

So down to the bleachers
the greygreen field
watch an orange thing
do jumping jacks
and admire some boobs
until I sell out
and put my inflamed labia
on the table
next to an 8-bit heart
an ASCII urethra
and a RuPaul action figure
with flambouyant buttons
and a big dumb
removable shock factor.

Ahoy.
Alcohol is a
universal adapter
for my infection site.

I kiss his lips
and Three 6 Mafia plays
at my highschool
graduation
so I bring a gun
to blow my brains out
during "Stay Fly"
all over Crunchy Black's
big plastic glasses
and what's left of me
can lean back
and spit into the air
and on the grass
and on the porch
and on my bedroom floor
spit all over everything
until it's all
soaking wet
and I can't help
but slip and fall
and get that fracture
so I can pretend
I really did fall
at the ice rink.

I really did fall
for you
all over you
like a drunk Birdo
you were my Luigi Russollo
with Downs Syndrome
wanting little more
than a proclamation
of my validity
while I pushed your face
into the gristmill
whistling your lungs away
forcing upon me
a rimjob and a hug
by the Shi'ites.

Fuck Skate Town.