I WILL RIP YOUR HEART OUT

Y'know somewhere out on Highway 61,
or Highway 57
or whichever fucking highway
it is that ends up
in Chicago

Out there
with the sun spitting down
with ghastly giant Irish type crows
fluttering about,
with great fields of cornflake corn
waving in the breeze

With Bette Davis by my side
a couple of 30s hoodlums hanging around
a bit further off,
and Billie Holiday waiting for me
in a car with the motor running

yeah, right
with my Hitchcock gaze
and filthy fingers of hate
with my visions of bloodthirsty cherubim
and Mohammed looking over my shoulder

God be praised,
with silent grace
and noisy enthusiasm
with my eyes half-filled with tears
half-filled with something I can't
quite put my finger on

I will
I will
I will rip your heart out