Three BioShock Poems

SPIDER SPLICER APPLIES
FOR SATURNINE
MEMBERSHIP

photos of dead enemies are still worth / something / item of equal / or lesser value / the thing that isn’t killing you  /  now lying still  /  in its bed of molted roses // its bed of ammunition / inventory full / spilled over / the coils of buckshot spiraling / telekinetic / lullaby  to  a  weapon  //  a club you only qualify to join / if you can vanish // that would never / ever / have you  as  a  member  /  that joke you forget exact words of  //  forget why it was funny  /  as your hooks  /  cry into metal bulwarks // cry into skin of the thing / you thought was symbiote  /  another bad deal handed you / another five star restaurant / of rotted meat


THE REAL PARASITES
WERE THE FRIENDS WE
MADE ALONG THE WAY

but  how  are  you  the  badguy  when  his  arms  are  full of   bees?    you   phase,   smoke-blossomed   love-me-not, you’re minding your own business. when they find  your  recording,  the  last  one,  will  they  catch you  crying?    when  they’re  playing  through  your cave   &   what   you’ve   written   on   the   walls,   your mask from the party, the ivory of the face across its skull.   yours are nonsense words, the letters shaped like animals. what kind of a man turns to mist underwater / expects any closure from the pyre that can  burn  and  keep  burning?     that’s   funny—you must be embarrassed.    or you must be livid; oh darling, your face is on fire.


THIS IS HAPPENING
BEFORE

when you ricochet // the head bloomed / into its present  state  /  of  haloed  clot  //  I’ll  miss  the gorgeous  letters  /  your  books  on  tape  /  out  on  a ledge / that gave me something to do // your dear diary / I’m suspecting / I am through // I am playing out  /  my heartstrings  //  this decade without sun  // the worship  /  of a songbird  /  laced into its baby blue / bonnet / of sky // the dead dog / copy-pasted / its same small crooked paws / around this corner / and the next // of course / you feel bad // but the girls / are  all  dressed  alike  /  are  all  missing  the  same button / every one that crawls / out of the wall / overwriting the last / to the diminishing return / of your mercy ///