The Sky is Broken

I might be trapped in my head like a prisoner.

Crack is made from coconuts; it is good for you, everybody needs it,

it makes you a little bit clairvoyant.

“Maybe I should try it.”

No, Don’t!

I sleep in a Penske truck in a junkyard.

It’s a box truck, a moving truck, but it never moves—

it’s broken, and the inside has been wallpapered;

the ceiling has been painted to look like the sky

and there are little lights that flicker on and off

like stars.

The Prospects are pulling on my teeth, and my neighbor

is the possessor of the guy around the corner

Or a greater force of the regime on the streets. They deal

with the Exchanges. How the Prospects and the Exchanges

are handled are intertwined—Prospects have been put into my teeth,

and that’s how another person was exchanged because of the Prospects.

They stole certain sounds from my mouth, so it shows up

on the Exchanges when you lie, cheat, and steal.

I’m a prostitute; I service many men till 5, maybe 6 am

I buy my stuff and go back out; I chase it all day.

I saw my son last week; I want to get housing so he can come live with me.

When I saw him, I was getting high a few times while he was here.

He’s okay with who I am, I hug him a lot, and there’s heavy stuff

to talk about. I hear him in my head while I’m on the street.

There are corrupt mechanoids in my breasts; I can pull them out

and little citizens all over my body, sending out all my energy

all those citizens are doing bad stuff. I saw this guy on Canabay St.;

he’s been living in my body for 48 years. You need to see how many

citizens are standing on my nose; start by switching, exchanging,

and trading. My feet have been taken,

one guy took my vagina—the top part, the mound.

One day, I got out of this guy’s Suburban, and I couldn’t do

anything but masturbate on Olympic and Central Ave on the corner.

I was lying there masturbating in front of the cars because something

went wrong with my body—somebody took something super important

and my body went into a breakdown. It still isn’t fixed.

I looked at these people walking by like the guy who bit my ear hard

It’s deep body magic; it’s keeping me alive and anybody hooked

on it does terrible things. I’m working on my magnetism, all these pieces

of me that the Prospects left and Exchanges didn’t take;

and pieces of my son to where he is not recognizable

and they put his pieces and my pieces together to get one person.

They put his spirit in the ocean, and I’ve been thinking about it

and my son is a prisoner; I’ve been trying to rescue him.

It’s a long, winding private road in an Isuzu Trooper

and I know it all sounds so crazy, but somebody needs to know.

I’m going to join the US Army Police; I hear there are jobs there

so yeah, I have hope; I don’t want to be a prostitute any longer

and have men chase me down the street and steal everything I work

for out here on the streets. I was murdered three times—strangulation

muscle relaxers, stabbed to death. Well actually, I was murdered many

more times—every time I have sex, I get murdered.

Heroin gave me wings to fly, but it took away the sky.

The sky is beautiful, but the sky is broken.