incidentally it was night 2 lasts i
                                                   was
wearing the wriggling organism of your lips
                                            (
    and cradled in the dripping chasm of your slight grinning pocket
i nestled specifically in y
         our iron stallion
       in the eyelet of the small strangled heap of quiet
by the new carcass of
        the posthumous day
                                               and waited
         for the first gargle
                                               of gnashing pink
              to canter
                                           across
          the  prose
                                   of rocky protrusions stinking
on the horizon
                                    )?