I have to shake these hatch backed hallucinations.

I have to misplace
these Indiana blues & jig saw walks.
Twisted teeth and sun flower seeds
yield
a paradox with dryer socks.
The girl has Jones pop spilling through her viens
that pumps that heart shaped mass of
gristly whistles and red bean paste.
Liquid fingers frolic with follicles
in the broccoli brothel, brother.
Tongue twisters with the mistress' mattress
cause' I spilt my anchovies salts.