Tuesday, December 6, 2011


use the
ghetto hangover cure;
starve a tissue box

feed a system of

itch sizes
of mammoth
the morning after:

cryogenically paisley,
7-eleven's tweed scalped

forget fear, sport
a crotchful of
Star Wars merch

it wheelchair hunts bears
that crunch underneath
like glass

grief's television
open to interpretation –

static of room temperature used needles 
brain-dripping antler shrapnel you
go talking your
head into

purchasing that
haute-kettle telephone

that Armani
waste paper basket
the maid's broken ankle
sticks out of

seduced out of it
in mothball metamorphosis

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