Treasure Island

A.j. Binash

(04-20-1988 / Dodgeville WI)

My Company, Will Kill You.


Some. Have dreams. About a California shore.
They fantasize about the salt water.
Cleaning their wounds.

I am paused. Atop my air mattress.
Stabbing the mainline,
For a rush of creativity.

Staring at a blank page.
Inhaling the permanent marker
And roses smell.
Wafting in through my window.

Late nights
Or is it early mornings?

In my eyes
Sunlight mutates
Into starlight.

If not for the overcast,
I wouldn’t be able
To distinguish a difference.

Little red veins
Are sprawled across
The whites of my eyes.

And I think of the California shore.

And I would love to piss in it.

Then I can be carried
Inside a harlot’s infection.

I’ll be the promise
She vows
To the porn director:
“Don’t worry
It’s only temporary.”

Submitted: Sunday, November 17, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, November 20, 2013
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