Cage of chambers:
Lark of sparks.
Morning bears
Shore that layered.

Eat up the whole plate,
Kick back the bored chair.
Sick is the core layer.

Crack, crack - it is inside you.
"Man is noise" - clickclacks the mechanism
That is beyond the wall and eats it's wheels.
Stap back, not through the door.
Open the window, crawl to the floor,
Sneak into a crate.

Eat at the skin slate.
Kick in the core layer.
Dive in the bored chair.

Abrupt angels
Drowning in black bacon,
Tattered crucifix
In a sea of marmalade.

Ricochet sounds the ricochet
Of flying lead
And it's echo
From bronzen metal
Plate
Of my clean skate.

The starlessness of night
Is born within a brooding mother.
And grieving is the father
For himself. As that is not
The sun he want-
ed.
Fed.

Bitten is the core layer.
Bitter is the mouth's tedder.
I am amused by the bored chair.