We are talking and I am thinking and you are listening
tiny green peas ripen into crimson heirloom tomatoes
the cerebral cavity starts to fill and compress each fruit
when the inflammation kicks in and the stew starts to
boil and bubble and now the only thing keeping the
head off the floor is the combination of the weight of
the stew and the steam from the heat balancing in such
a way so that the head is still stuck to the body and the
stew starts slipping into the veins the heart the stomach
where stew belongs but the tomatoes were rancid filled
with rotten seeds planted by inconsideration and doubt
this is the part when I start to spew an inferno of atoms
tomatoes peas and ash and as the explosion from my
mouth finishes the line is disconnected and I am here
covered in my magma and my malice and mi miedo