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Amnesia like leaky faucets swollen drain ventilates vapid powdered portrait
At least smiled.
Blood slightly warmed manicure and smiled in forgotten garden
Such lovely font.  All wanted
Mini clouds surrounding shrines backlit green in ritual.
Smiles speak but of the wet smell of pollen and the sweat collecting in his hand behind the small of her uncrushed spine.

Curing chlamydia the straight—A fairytale.  Conned alive, clumsily and bitter.
Nurtured cotton uprooted attempt.  Scrubbed stains to shreds

Not even the green light merely aftermath so of course when shaking egg shells sheltering in “cold hands warm heart” chests receive the song I sing but never knew
If the shackles of the bouldering social structures collapse then the stores are closed for winter.  Sandy can wear last month’s Louis.  

If the whole world allowed us in then you shouldn’t have procrastinated poisoning the fluorescence.

If you open the worn pages of time then you won’t die alone.
Not enough, huh?

Steely Dan the doctor Frankenstein.
“I cried when I wrote this song.  Sue me if I play too long,”
Compost dreams so not long-gone?

If you have to **** yourself, then Paris becomes your drug.  
Why would I intervene an ungrateful brat?

Don’t know if your veins will end up my perfect quill but if I have lose musical chairs to my father I will get you that spotlight *******.
Drowning inside hands.
A fluorescent chime.
Skin scrubbed radiation.
Force-feeding plastic and sugar and flesh.
Pushing and pulling until tendons flail weathered
Up. And. Down.
Up and down upanddown until the store of powders, prints, nails tumble out carmine and is sobbing
gagging on a high chair.
The candied calculator like heart-shaped pupils and sticky soles.  
Opaque ID’s and strands of you abandoned in navy sheets.
Shoulder tassels taught on Adam’s apple.

Love stitches bedding and hollows bodies.
Love lights the West and lines waste baskets wet.
Love is a little girl vomiting into a lion’s den.

— The End —