doesn't always watch over me.
She puts things in my head.
She tells me things like:
“While having coffee this morning,
put your arms around the young pretty teacher
you are friendly with and pull her close to you...
kiss her passionately... you know she wants you...
look into her eyes... real men take what they want.”
But I know better.
My bad angel loves me deeply.
She is my angel
but I don't trust her.
My bad angel is a beautiful
twenty five year old woman
wearing too much lipstick,
a primitive woman dancing naked
in the moonlit forest of the mind
beheld by amber eyes.
My bad angel buys me drinks and
then has no money to pay for them.
She always lights my cigarettes.
She serenades my daydreams with Spanish
love songs of unrequited love.
She tells me to write poems when
I should be paying bills.
Her lips taste of bitter absinthe kisses
drunk in all night underground cafes.
She suffers me with longing.
My bad angel comes to me at night and invades my dreams.
She takes the change from my pockets when I'm sleeping.
She took my leather jacket.
She wants me to shave my head.
My bad angel needled her way into angeland
self-destructing and obstructing
my emotional merry go round.
My bad angel tried to strangle
my wife in her sleep.
She wants me all to herself.
We have a special relationship.
She tells me things she tells nobody else.
She tells me:
“Death is the truth of life.
Life is the air that we breathe,
the love that we keep,
the desire we touch,
the thoughts that we feel.
The body is a shell
that gives form to the living.”
My bad angel tells me I'm a ladies man
in spite of my face.
She makes me forget my anniversary.
She makes me buy presents for imaginary lovers.
She says it's okay to read my poetry to people
at trendy Soho restaurants because I've already paid my dues.
My bad angel always reminds me to wear my grapevine suit
to dramatic happenings on Avenue B
My bad angel makes me undress women in my mind.
She lets me look at dirty pictures.
She touches me yet can't be touched.
She would like to babysit my children
if I would let her.
She pushes me into the middle of fights at school.
She wants me to buy a gun.
She helped me assemble my switchblade.
She doesn't give a damn about my history.
She never ever listens to me.
My bad angel keeps other angels away from me.
She hardens me with desire for bodies
that are out of reach.
She has followed me from New York to Hoboken.
She is here right now.
She lives within me.
She doesn't need wings to fly.
My bad angel plays outside of time.
My bad angel took her own life
and still blames it on me.
She shows me glimpses:
The body a shell
that gives form to the living.
The living interconnected
to all the living that ever were.
Time, a road built upon shadows
of souls of all ever alive.
Time measures life,
God measures death.
God the Word...
Lovers embrace the edge of eternity,
naked forever after...
Smile angel smile
your secrets are mine.