Kill All Artists!

Here I go again--
Sketching the face of God
with the prototypical tools of exhaustion
Far beyond the drives of enterprise,
consistency
& indefensible failure--
Gorging myself spastic
on Eden’s heavenly entrails
While cashmere gods starve in the belly of the Buddha
Chewing through foul play’s severed crossbow
As self-discipline fasts itself into an early autopsy
with the demon’s false appetite for the skeleton key;
Relishing the ghosts of trampled fantasies
With all the nonsense a man can tolerate,
& pondering for the first & probably only
time
That there might be more to life
than getting all you can
out of it