Misplaced orb squeezed between
ringed fingers, a mass of palpitating flesh.
I'll look like water when kicked square in the jaw, fluidity from
a faucet in a burned out kitchen.
Filth and grime and a mouth whose
rhyming can't become anything else
but a nest of mechanical insects that
explode from your quivering teeth.
Also the thing about abrasions is that
they can be concealed behind the curtain like something from
olden theaters
(HIDE AND SEEK)
(PREY ON THE WEAK)
(SINGS FROM HIS SLEEP)