leaning uncomfortably backwards
on the dentist chair
mouth gaping, strange
thick latex fingers
poke borrower weapons inside
and contort my lips into shapes

would it be easier
if we could excavate all the 
decay in a body
with a drill and replace it
with a shining pearl-cap?

I am leaking silently,
like pipes beneath the kitchen sink
You find out that mold had nested, accumulated
in the corners and caused the floors to rise up
Heave their wooden planks and produce discoloration,  
My chest is that floor and the water has
no place to go so it soaks and strains,
*****, sighs, releases fluid in
t
e
n
d
r
i
l
s.

Hills giving their way to
water-made soft room for
sails all caught up in fierce
wind from an old house where
we found one still-sleeping
wish walking quietly
blown down the rivers that
pumped through our
bodies now set free to
wander afloat upon
miles of
converging
unsuppressed
joy

when the doll's hair
became so tangled a
wild toothed comb could
not soothe it,
I took the big scissors
in wild frustration
from the drawer in the kitchen
and hacked away at
Lucy's hair like a drunken
maniac.
her duck-speckled
printed eyes
closed their mechanical
lids each jolted snip
and a soft tick ticked
as coarse lashes hit
**** plastic
the more
that fell in chalk white chunks
from one side the more
I extracted from the other
like a wonky scale
until the spilt strands
covering the floor
tumbled tears down my  
fleshed pink cheeks
and I ran away to hide
under the duvet.

She made a cake
beat with memories, sickly
sweet buttery kisses
and stuffed it into his half
open lips. he stayed frozen,
a plastic figurine
allowed her to smear
coconut icing into his eyes
and pipe a clown smile
into his waxen cheeks.

she covered
the moulded walls in
their stale photographs
recurring  coal eyes
hiding the red
that flashed inside like
a beacon on an emergency
                                 vehicle
his clones all stared at him
willed him to do something
but he sat, numb to her
numb to himself
and decided to go mad.

conversing in loops,
you seem content.
they burnt
down your home, I kept a bag
of the special things next to
the door for a time.
Now you live under a centipede's
back, an exoskeleton of notched
houses, with the wrinklies.
your nails
are crinkled like a soil bed ready
for seeds, they lived in water like
soggy tissues, when you were a nurse.
you keep falling now
but they can't pick you up,
like you used to, them.

gargling laughter pours
through hands and
cloaks fingers in slippery
oil
so they slide helplessly
around the pencil
like a fly creeping up a
car window only
to thud back to the leather,
but

lexicons bloom
like cancerous lilies  
when the gentle flicks
of the black letters kick
a barbed ball into your
lungs.