you can see me perched
akimbo on a windowsill
with chinese eyes
slicing rather than slit,
then ending up reading her poetry
of lies... then watching
a *****, as the antidote to the genre
of horror... she hides behind
the couch when horror comes,
he hides behind the couch when ***** comes...
and evil is a vector, and good is
a coordinate... thus said: as we pass;
you can see me perched in akimbo
on the windowsill, in a ****** nodding
via alcohol, with calm shuttered eyes.