"occasional music"

"occasional music"
written on a messy stomach by jake kilroy.

hum-drum in the low rungs of the world,
you salvage fast food,
letting the farmers watch,
tearing up at the window,
while we burn the crops,
cackling deliriously and naked,
dancing in merry circles
around the flames.
reading on breaks at the end of the world,
hiding your face
and using your wit,
just so you can pray to the patron saint
of boredom and apathy,
though he never shows
and asks you were you've been.
get sex, have fun,
he says,
and then leaves you with the tab;
drink his wine, call it blood
and never find home,
as you nomad it truly,
sleeping in nice beds
of people you just met
and have seduced;
live long, never die
and bring the apocalypse.