i endeavour to burst
my glum queasy organs
by binging on the sun;
like a fattened sow
that wobbles to slop
against the mist of *****

i'll **** the lemon hard
mouth spasming with beams  
till the rinds soak up my gums
where the nihilism clots
like plaque around a tooth  
fouling up my lunch

maybe i'll explode
across a hopscotch grid
they can twist my guts for rope  
and the sticky sun will mop me up
sour blood to goddess rust
now that's what hope feels like,
i'm sure.