He was a tapeworm
his sister had a bad perm
sitting on her head,
edge of the bed
in a knife sliced
corridor of light. These thoughts,
that leaned like weak trees
in a cutting breeze.
These thoughts
that we're never straight more
a child's hurricane scribble.
A mental ball of twine collecting clutter
and when the cobra struck
I thought of you
naked,
ready to **** the venom
or offer the antidote.
The misery and turbulence,
the fear of being hunted by the anonymous faces
of a South American meat packing conglomerate.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
He was a tapeworm
his sister had a bad perm
sitting on her head,
edge of the bed
in a knife sliced
corridor of light. These thoughts,
that leaned like weak trees
in a cutting breeze.
These thoughts
that we're never straight more
a child's hurricane scribble.
A mental ball of twine collecting clutter
and when the cobra struck
I thought of you
naked,
ready to **** the venom
or offer the antidote.
The misery and turbulence,
the fear of being hunted by the anonymous faces
of a South American meat packing conglomerate.
