Jay H Alanski

a cult is spread through the head 

tying loser to loser to loser 

vinyl encases private fetishes 

unpublished on coffee tables 

you had chances; preferring glances 

polaroid eighties; Asian models 

New York soundtracks in the provinces 

enough to make anyone cry and laugh 

voice sticking on every syllable 

turning the sublime heart-rendering-ly simple 

king of every bedroom regret

we worship what we can’t collect 

oh my departed friend 

we’ll always have the memory 

of your mylar-encased vinyl 

and CD collection

i’ll always remember you crying 

over the obscurity of Jay Alanski