a poem by Peycho Kanev

like screaming, baby

snakes crawl upon torn flowers, hissing
at the sun and
I pour myself another bloody glass
I am ready to scream

DON’T WASTE THE DAY BECAUSE THE
NIGHT BRINGS A HEARSE!!!

and at this moment, everything here is sodden with
madness and dead birds with sad songs,
I drink for these creatures of the night
crawling, stalking and waiting and waiting
in the grass
waiting for their revenge upon the consumption
of my self
and my endurance is like the lie of love,
wasted and colorless like dead leaves.

I laugh at the night
as the world swings like a gymnast
going nowhere with the butterflies,
the tyrants, the seasons, the sodomists,
with you
and me,
fucker.

© Peycho Kanev