Monday, June 18, 2012


before the occult outhouse, your senses may topple
how much love exactly is rubbed in an avalanche of lice?
whose volume, in that event, is refreshing?
doesn't it sound as old as the constant clanging of a blackhead discharging?
you can't taste without swallowing 
before exhuming the demon, the water looks creepy
water couldn't be made to wring out the drowning
or the loose, damp spot above a stolen organ
get used to the plaster's involuntary reflexes
although it took place under suspicious circumstances,
since the organ replacement the marionette has been voted
the most loved person at the party, hiding its scar
underneath its rape cape
a critter grinning with small teeth the whole time at a party
it's assimilating, you just don't notice it

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