CHAIR

lamb–of–god:

Baltimore is the darkest place
it’s basically been fucked with
damp houses
meat in the trees
And you are the world’s most 
intrepid salesman
Energy
that’s what you have
instead of Harvard
You make me feel 
like a kitten
with a wallet
with a wallet

But the sun is strange
pencil light pouring
out of a hole and
I can’t move in this house
someone’s life
is still here
the bed is warm
with it

Why do I go on the internet
when everywhere else
is heaven?
Even the torture 
of watching my hand
in the bathwater
Even the flat silver
light of Baltimore.
I came here
I thought it was free
I wanted to write poetry
God was in a car in the sky
and I shouted my arm is so weak
and he said I know
it’s like a toothpick holding a machine
and I saw his face for a minute
Satan’s bacony lips
It wasn’t God
just some confident animal 
in a car 
And the trees were 
kind of purring
And I noticed my legs
were gone.

We’re like something that camps out
in your home
here is the chair
here is the door
opening
the glare of light 
on your tongue
heaven touches me 
again
the text 
is its own animal
panting
in the dark.

Genuinely feel like Leopoldine might be the best in the game right now.