Dungeon Music by Ezhno Martin

I've moved back into my mom's basement Samantha

it's a great place to drink beers

and piss in the empty cans

I'm sure I'm spilling on both ends

but there is a certain consistency to coming up short 

so I'd say there is a science to me burning up

cause I'm always left some portion of empty

there's this song I like to sing

it says “I don't deserve this”

and I got it on repeat

a 3 minute beer and still be ready for the refrain routine 

it'll probably take me years to figure out it's supposed to be sarcasm

right now I'm stuck on feeling sorry for myself

and doing everything in my power not to remember

all the chances I had to change

I got this new girlfriend I found on the internet

she's a sorry excuse for a human being 

and so am I

she carves “help”

into her chest right above her breast 

with the her dad's buck knife about once a week

the blossoming scar is an ugly unripe purple an inch deep

like a blister that won't pop

that's how I feel like you're living inside of me now

sometimes my mom catches me facefucking alcohol

and chases me out of the house screaming

I try not to listen but I think she's saying something about a future she'd hoped I'd want to have 

I'm trying to figure out where to go from here

       I'm still stuck in the same place I was when I ran away from you              in Chicago on a middle of the night greyhound

knowing I'd have to start a new life

and completely unprepared to contemplate how

The most sense I can make I've stolen from this new girlfriend

          she says that when she was 12 she used to invite pedophiles 

           to hang out outside her window

          hoping one would eventually lose their mind and break the glass

I go to the ghetto to walk around in the middle of the night

with the stink of suburbia on me like a bullseye

                    I show my pure white skin

                    more and more of it every time

     no one has taken the bait yet to rapture my blood

                   but I'm not ready for a better plan

Ezhno is a feral misshaped mass of broken dreams that doesn't believe in pronouns and would prefer to just be called “Ezhno.” This is equal parts ideology, loneliness, and the fact that it's been a while since anyone screamed “Ezhno” during sex. People just aren't as loud and adventurous as we think they used to be back when we were younger and better at everything. Ezhno is a freak who makes books for freaks via EMP Books, obsesses about a certain New York Basketball Team, and takes long urban hikes in the middle of the night. Ezhno has substituted god with a ghost who goes by Samantha, and the prayers for forgiveness have yet gone unanswered. Do not introduce your dog to Ezhno; they will be licking each-other's teeth, biting each-other's necks, pissing on your clothes, and stealing food off of your counter within five minutes.