She lives in a figurative cube of lard
A clear turmoil tunnel channeled like
a river of boiling fat filled with shards
of shining glass shattering her flaccid
memory lacerates each emotion or
turn into adipose gluttony
I wear my heart on her terry cloth robe
the brain she was born with is the
***** on her clothes
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 5:22 AM UTC
She lives in a figurative cube of lard
A clear turmoil tunnel channeled like
a river of boiling fat filled with shards
of shining glass shattering her flaccid
memory lacerates each emotion or
turn into adipose gluttony
I wear my heart on her terry cloth robe
the brain she was born with is the
***** on her clothes
