Newspaper Abortions

the chandelier was carved from the bones
of insane poets and stained with their inked
preoccupations, and the lightbulbs were black

and the music was in italics, it could breathe
black-orbed squints from within its notes,
and the vibrations washed away, with the gravity

of checkered narcotics and disciplined razors
cutting through addiction, cutting through pain,
and through the thick skin of selfish interference

to gut, laced value from its beating abdomen
and eat its disaster; to devour all its purpose
and set it alight for the newsstands, to tell

and enlighten the earless world with the power
and glory of victory and triumph! but the world
sulks, into their cappuccinos wishing for lighter nights

and darker days to aid their spirals of manias
headfirst, straight through ivory trapdoors, to hide
from the world that pushed, because wanting

to kill with metal coat hangers was immoral
but they dug and pulled and twitched and
screamed, bathing in sinless blood; it rained

emerald ribbons, and the birds dived and spun
synchronising the beautiful pain of the world
into the bows that held all our strobed static in place.