"The only reason I haven't committed suicide is because I'm terrified of death."

"There's nothing wrong with a ****–
just don't fall in love with one."

pallid makes her love fist open
steaming up from the hips
with milk and a little red hair;

jaw distending on rapid
convulsions of white chest

turning to suddenly drink
her own blood from
your

h i p s.

each new kissing makes two new fists of brutal night alive and hurrying
with the hustle bustle of dying brains wistfully drunk and full of nothing
but how many lurid drips of some dumb ******* **** or if she'll swallow
later tonight when you're alone and her hair makes a mess of the starlight
quickly between the **** ******* of night and you're trying to sleep
but outside it's a city
and the sun is almost.

"I feel like I've been waiting my whole life just to hear somebody say, 'I can't wait to see you tonight.'"

somewhere (
quietly)
there is a suicide,

the doors won't open,

and everywhere

it is raining.

to beingly is
to dyingly make of
white flesh

a most brutal mute song–

arms and hands behind
music of throat
–full of fingers–

pushed fingers into short throat,
deeply;

trying to
and openly
needs of, spit

where unsoftly comes
and fingers fit.