Generation Kill Chic – Mika Hrejsa

a black sun beats down

cracked meth pipes under boots

acrid bubbles of opossum roadkill pop

indiana’s pretty this time of year


this teen keeps making others

grab him by his

curled devil horns – dealers like

feeling the scales they just

ripped outta his head one day like they were

full metal jackets shredding apart

fist-wide hole blown out

bloodfucked across bathwater


they’d give him extra oxy’s when he

let em facefuck him

fingers dug in between keratin


liked the feeling like he was more

than the other boys were – as if he

was existing beyond capacity but still

once a week he would wake up

briefly afraid he was just

another boy like all the rest


he wanted to someday

drive an M2 Bradley fucking up all those

motherfucking terrorists just a little

maybe make a city burn down

just a little and

save the world just a little —


sometimes his daydreams would be invaded:

[atop takur ghar mountain he’s bleeding out

& chest reorganized across the sand

amongst the erupted

insides he notices an unfamiliar chunk of

gore. knows he’s less than

the other boys. not much of one

at all, really]


— he just wanted to be more

more & more until he didn’t think anymore

even if that’s by reducing

decades of proxy imperialism, and

corroding Powers That Be down

to the reverb of an M242 chain gun

turns skin to flesh to open bone


the mountains of afghanistan are pretty all year


echoes overlapping the 25mm’s

fucking their way out the

end of a platinum barrel

stained with mudblood

twenty-seven tons of pure fucking power

the horns like a dead snake


a scorpion wanders – 0000 HOUR – in an

afghan valley – warmed in aftermath of

tracers in stuttered glow


so what if a few heads get popped?

so what if was just for escape?

so what if he hated how much

he smelled like a boy?


so it’s the last summer

directions for the

recruiting office on his desk a dealer arrived

the teen swallowed every time he hated the taste

tears clung to his cheek in throatfuck given a

tab of blotter paper with 1/25th’s

a wolf head

for being so good and so hot and so girly

melted against his tongue

the fuck is this, he said


head began to churn his ego his id blended

reptile aspect human aspect turned

indifferent sludge pooling on back of tongue

blood drained out the nose the heart cleaned out

hollowpoint hallucination he’s consumed

self diffracting along edges of a

fatal non-wound turning fractal

iridescence leaking out of him

what a vampiric chemical


castrated lust to feel a 7.62mm round

against his fingernail

immobilized desperation to feel the kick

of a TOW missile

vibrating the chassis

stilled drive to see red sand


the horns smoldered & cracked & blazed

until he was the only thing left


run away from the ghosts of

all those people you

never killed