Weened (Free verse) by Jeremi B. Handrinos
Weened for greatness, I explore the night
with giant footsteps and vulgar styles
I dance on the face of love and howl at
starving young artists like a bank manager
on the pillows of fat daddy dissonance
Weened for greatness, I finger the bitch
up right with full winded moves of highly
intoxicated denial, and strokes of sheer
genius, condoms and lubricants. My haircut
is moody, as I am weened for greatness
asleep on some other motherfucker's
floor. Waiting in the wings of concrete
hero-less slaughter houses, and wedding
receptions by the trailer pull.
Weened for greatness, I stroll in tight boots
of rare snake skin, and thick belted waist bands.
Where women paint everything oil pastel and
off green. Puddles of vomit and stained ten
thousand dollar dresses by the black TCP car
full. Weened for greatness, I'm on one week off
the next, I sleep at random intervals mostly
planned to be while your mouth is open.
Weened for greatness, I have no idea how
my clothes get on or off, but I have some idea
where I stole them from.
Weened for greatness, I cook fantastic dishes
of irrelevant bullshit smattered in diced garnishings.
I talk to myself with or without purpose, and
brag of frequent flyer miles, and knowledge
about mixed beverages, and vacuuming fetishes.
Weened for greatness, I'm out to fuck myself blind
Hopefully in front of the biggest herd of retards, ever.
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