Joyless Art

There isn't much that's beautiful
About prostitutes in Tulsa.
In big cities there's
Something they live for
Along side a drug habit.
In big cities they have
Their own thing.
They're stratified.
In Tulsa, they have
No art.
Exist for function.

Nyarlathotep Rides A Bike

Riding at night where I belong
in the drizzly midnight air.
The refinery towers shoot their flames high to be bent by the soft devil wind.
The overcast sky reflects pulsing orange from across the river.
A distant, quiet industrial holacaust.
Tonight no stars reflect in the oil slicked rain puddles
dotting the empty streets like black amoebas.
Out there, somewhere
Someone is screaming for their life.