you stand, all slack-jawed and purring like an ******,
pressing down on my cavities like a gas mask. this is my fantasy, this is me and i am dangerously ill.
i am sick, so
terribly, awfully sick,
as frail and withered as a stillborn and
heaving and choking up mothballs,
i can feel this illness in all of my orifices. leaking out like spit from my ears and
dripping on to your jeans,
all neat and tidy and squeaky clean like the smell of burning rubber.