A.j. Binash

(04-20-1988 / Dodgeville WI)

A Martyr for Privilege


I have been kissing shotgun shells
With the same ambition
A whore uses,
For prayer
Each night.

If not for my gag-reflex
The barrel
Would’ve been down my throat
Weeks ago.

O
Poor Western Boy.
What use is courage?
When it’s wasted on
Creating pin-pricks
Into flesh.

Tap water
Measured for pleasure.
When some walk 10 miles
To get a taste of filtered sewage.

O
My life insurance
Will be the bottle of whiskey
Found in my frozen fingers.
As I lay stiff
Under the overpass.

I’ll hold
Neal Cassady’s hand,
As the train clacks
Down the rail line.

Believe,
We’ll still be searching
For those kicks.

Submitted: Sunday, December 29, 2013
Edited: Monday, December 30, 2013

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