the men end lunch with strands of glowing spit
webbed to the tips of their boots.
they huddle and coagulate, chanting as one,
then bloom with loud whispers into
heat and steel beam ******** meat to the city grid.
my father once stepped on a nail.
he turned yellow
& his leg disintegrated.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 6:14 AM UTC
the men end lunch with strands of glowing spit
webbed to the tips of their boots.
they huddle and coagulate, chanting as one,
then bloom with loud whispers into
heat and steel beam ******** meat to the city grid.
my father once stepped on a nail.
he turned yellow
& his leg disintegrated.
