i can't. when trimming the calico hairs on skinly jaw. like trip-hop leaching out of your pearly *******: like magic-jesus. with porcelain around her animal seeds. where i can find: the swirling of Listerine flushing down the side of your throat. like swabbing for cells from the floor of your tongue
like swapping girls. or (like) picnicking deep inside flower-bait.blue trilling Gatorade apology/ simulating love.
and even now. inside the folds of dead house plants i would be okay if you stained my teeth with anything you had to offer. horse-whole in the water- milky for you- white as cuticles.
like the /**** me/ hum of the A/V cart hooked up and left running: nothing. stuffy in the boxed we built
i am more perfect than camouflage like pipilotti rist screaming her lungs to pale ribbons. as kimono as Kiki was real she- as brave as anything
i found it out. as fragrant as the deepest rooted thing- blissfull as the afternoon. as red as good cadmium. and that is ******* red