"bubonic" poems
oh right...
back in h'america it's called
patriotism -
but 'ere, over, Here -
it's called nationalism...
back on the old continent
where and when all politics
is far-right mantra
and then you have
your Victoria and Abdul -
love the curry...
but like the **** said...
i'd prefer the aura and sauna
of the...
don't get me wrong:
i love the food...
but watching the Indian caste
system?
of Indians employing slaves
to build their upper-middle-class homes?
more tanned?
oh, you mean the Sri Lankan
or the Bangladeshi poor ********
sorry... i thought all slave
owners were white...
no?
oh...
alright...
**** you then!
because?
next time you ask...
i'll do what the Nazis did to the ********
i'll twist the star of David sideways...
exposing the prayer mat
and an opened book...
and, as far as i am concerned,
Islam is equivalent to the bubonic plague...
now...
compare the geographic literature
and spot the quarantine areas on a map
that constitutes Europe.
i'd rather die...
than fiddle with a phallus for
a taste of the Arabian quasi
harem orchestra of... absolute...
********
Arabian women?
fat hands...
their hands are too fat...
they have to inter-breed to
get rid of their
farmers' market of
fudge fingers and knuckles...
Arabian women expose
what is the most **** aspect
of a woman's body...
their hands...
Arab women have pork chops
for fingers...
and i'm not even sorry
making this observation...
fatty extensions
that you wish could at least
succumb to the esteem
of a pork head terrine.
Arab women can wear their niqab,
or whatever the hell they wear...
one problem...
FAT..... HANDS...
FAT.... FINGERS...
hell, hide them...
these women are worth half the erection's
worth in the *********** market of
feminine hands...
Arab women are no possessed with
geisha hands... porcelain architecture...
they're not tender... slight, polite...
the hands of Arab women are
the hands of European women...
who have a legitimate sway on arable
land, that is fertile with either
potatoes or cabbage;
well...
fat fingers eager to harvest ginger
(roots) -
what can i say...
no matter the diamond,
or the European *****
the hand is still looking
readily available to milk a ******* camel.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
DEFINITION OF *****
I question your gimmick
Lame limericks
Their cryptic
More mystic
Unrealistic
Ya ****** it
On chronic
Contagious like the bubonic
Hooked hydroponics
Pathetically neurotic
So drop it
your **** ain't ****
Just tragically prosthetic
Prophetical ********
You think that u know ****
You blow it
Thats classic.
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
Its 101 basic
I didn't quit this
You lost it
Worth only Drunken kisses
I'm pretty when you chase it
Your too shallow to accept it
Together we're right
But my body ain't tight
To ur likes
its your ****
That's a *****
Only looks for them tricks
Your dellusionally idiotic
To think that ya got it
When trix are for kids
Your games hit and miss
Happily ever afters not bliss
First loves kiss is just a playlist
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
You Can't find love in this mess
Be a girl wear a dress
Listen more talk less
Don't change who you are
Just your flesh
Tell the truth is said to me
Love was free for the taking
Or so I believed
Your lies used as feed
But your pet I am not
Yeah I guess you forgot
What yo ma shoulda taught
That one shots all life's got
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME ****
MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
YOU SO REFINED AS A *****
The good bits stole away
By this crap game you play
All day, you just sway
On your way
Thinking your owed
By some ****** up code
But your method or mode
Is about to explode
Like mace
In your face
With no trace
Your erased
You ain't even today
Your the past, Yesterday
Can't change that
My ma used to say
Just look for tomorrow
in your ARKs of today
CUZ YOUR THE DEFINITION OF *****
YOU'VE LOST ONE TOO MANY A STITCH
ITS WHY ALL YOU SPEW IS SOME
****
YOU MAY AS WELL BE A SNITCH
THATS WHY YOU'LL ALWAYS BE *****
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 11:13 PM UTC
A yo Shawty,
You is lookin fine, fine, fine
Humph
Like a crisp hundred dollar bill on da sidewalk
Found between paychecks. Fine.
Lookin like that Queen off in my dreams
So I be real when I step to you
Wussup, whut yo name is, whus yo phone number?
A yo Shawty,
If I gotta, I’m a steal you from somebody.
I mean some ***** gon be ******
Cuz you gon be my special dish
Shawty ya look good
Got those legs that
Mad David Ruffin not too proud to beg.
I wann know whut’s behind those eyes that hypnotize.
Whut’s in yo head?
A yo Shawty,
Is you gotta mind to go wit yo
Fine, fine, fine, super fine ***
I see you got class. Physical beauty surpass
Named after a month cuz the thought of you last
For mo days than the rains of Noah
God couldn’t destroy this place ‘til he made yo face
I’m down fo the chase let’s run dis race.
A yo Shawty
Yeah you
Tongue ring and accessories
Make me wanna catch yo disease
I wanna inhale what you exhale
Taste whut you smell
My idea of Hell is you not by my side
A yo Shawty
I shall provide
That fire fo you to ride
I ain’t givin you no cheese
But together we can make Swiss cheese, American and cheddar
In memory of you no falsified lines
That month befo summer and at de end of spring
A yo Shawty
Let’s get togever and do da right thing.
Like a fat *** Spike Lee Joint
Roll up dat bubonic sticky green chronic
And let’s pull together
Get close like crystal when we toast
Every anniversary Cristol in the crystal
We boast that I’m yours and you is mine
A yo Shawty
You lookin
Fine, fine, fine.
Hmph.
Like a crisp hundred dollar bill on da sidewalk
Found between paychecks.
Fine.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
a polish pork head terrine?
my ******* god...
how can the jews and the muslims
take to culinary criticism of
their own, respective gods?
ever watch the t.v. show
billions? where they're having
breadcrumbs fried pork
ears?
last time i heard...
the best pork is encapsulated
within the pig cranium....
all that excess cartilage?
yummy finger licking good...
seems funny though...
it's not exactly discussing bone marrow...
it's pork head...
all that excess cartilage...
and mingled with sweet & sour
gherkins...
just my idea of Anastasia...
a porky's head...
chicken hearts / chicken livers....
raw Baltic herrings?
who the, **** needs to glorify
american hamburgers...
if not some jerking-off
megalomaniac?
you eat, what is given,
you don't ask for nuances,
you don't make excuses...
you eat what is on the plate..
you **** the omnivore "gimmick"...
pork head flesh,
meat mixed with cartilage?
tasty as ****
so why would islam
or the partial strand of judaism
be so critical concerning the most
economic carnivore animal being
farmed, herded, industrialised?
the monotheistic celebration of god...
within the confines of a criticism,
so trivial would make a god laugh...
it would appear the dogma was written as a joke...
earthquake and hurricane
are o.k., but pork?
the ******* bubonic plague!
i love how "god" is celebrated,
but at the same time,
kept under a critical acclaim
of having one of his creations,
namely pork...
given a punching bag status of criticism...
since, what is so ******* pristine,
and spectacular, about chicken, lamb
or beef meat?
according to islam... mad cow disease
never happened.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
i stand on the central Warsaw train-station,
and there's this girl checking her
mobile interet, phone,
and she looks pretty...
and... i really don't want to **** her like
the guys **** her in ***** movies...
maybe that''s shy i'm considered
"effeminate"....
maybe...
i just didn't **** enough women...
or maybe...
i speak the tongue of the crusaders...
but we sent the artillery...
the beautiful women to the Arab
******
and kept the nation safe...
Islam, akin to the comparison
of the Bubonic Plague...
Islam... virus of the mind...
i'll contest thi...
i'll ******* die for this...
i've been feeling weird for the past
few days....
Tom Petty died....
so... why would anyone give
a **** if Wayne Static
does the coffer?
so... i'm supposed to care?!
**** you!
Jeff hanneman died...
but do you see me,
making a case for a ******* parade?!
no?
good... that's how i like it...
******* south London
plonker!
every single time...
i fall in love with a girl
at the central train-station in Warsaw...
the love dies a sudden death...
when i get to the....
Western train station of Warsaw...
the Ukrainians et al...
the Mongols...
love's up,
dead, long gone...
i'm basically living
the enterprise in re-experiencing
a slow death...
feral lands...
these Polacks are like...
please don't land in Warsaw....
i know...
Krakow has Auschwitz as a tourist
destination...
but... but...
you will not see the generic
schematic of globalization...
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
and then i think of "it"...
**** marriage..
no thanks,
you have it covered...
on your way;
i might not be on the winning side,
but sure as ****
i'm also not on the losing side either...
and t think...
that i could even concise my
life within the confines of
imitating my father...
i could have...
but then... life...
isn't exactly a chance on bet within the confines
of a roulette.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
I had a little headache yesterday
But "little" headaches leave me in ill humor
because I know (and very often say:)
"I don't get headaches! It must be a tumor!"
When I get aches, it fills me with misgiving.
For any symptom, even though it's vague,
I've known this much: as long as I've been living:
Each little pain must be bubonic plague.
I never had a tiny ailment yet
But I was sure was going to cause my death,
And every case of pimples that I get
will shortly make me end up like Macbeth.
A doctor said the malady I fight is
Called terminal acute dramaticitis
dag 11/10/2013
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Why did Noah take nits?
Let's pull this ark to bits,
God let Noah take two nits,
Plus two mosquitoes, each proboscis,
Gave humans encephalitis,
What is worse than this?
Why they bring malaria, blip!
What is worse than this?
As well as Noah's two nits,
God let Noah take two rats,
With two fleas on board, that's that,
So Noah brought bubonic plague,
While lovely unicorns floated away,
Then on all those wooden decks,
Noah took two woodpeckers, by heck,
So that was the end of Noah's Ark,
Lucky he wasn't eaten by sharks,
So, why God, did you plan all this, mate?
I know Noah was human to make mistakes,
Taking rats, fleas, mossies, and nits, great!
Was taking two nits more than fate?
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
i wasn't quantifying, i can succumb to the parasite, which means that i either die, or the parasite dies with me; might as well call that a five o'clock shadow.- i have my insanity plea, what do the contending parties' have? an assumption? a Cluedo guess-grime rather than guess-work? no wait, make that a **** South Korean was the size of South America? i wish it was, taxes inconclusive? might posture for a yacht... and t-total a banana republic for all legitimate purposes for a shopping spree on coca - or is that's how taxing is done in this fair and decent country of Scandinavian restrictions concerning the feeble minded daddy-fuck-cares? Thailand was always the option with the quasis, ball sacked and tit-wanked-able: like am Englishman in Thailand, wanky-faced, with the Jersey Boys were moving beyond the Orwell parameter, i say Panzer, you tell me the **** brigade; you tell me pretty boys, you regurgitate me the ******* Bubonic Plague! am i understood?
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
History is a pendulum
swinging perilously
back and forth
over our shared humanity.
Slicing bitterly
at the air above me
with a visceral hatred
for all the good things
I hoped we could be.
Kinder to hater,
forgiving to denier
loving to crier
sharper it slices
cutting the air cleanly
leaving me feeling it keenly.
Wild rhetoric
going viral,
virus of white power words
spreading like the plague,
a poisonous and bubonic phage.
I struggle to stop it,
this rising tide
of tired tirades,
republican charades
turning different skin shades
into the enemy.
These neighbors are our family,
but the pendulum sees them
separated by the serrated blade,
exhausted by the hate
and violence that blazes.
History returns to sicken
my sorrowfully stricken
heartbeat.
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
If you had to get that drunk to **** me like you wanted it,
I think we have serious issues between us.
I don't think we'll talk about it.
Naming objects more affectionately than people,
something stupid I hate to see in others.
Mother Brain stirs the *** and Kraid
growls infinitely, or purrs in context.
Cheap and lonely, dressed well for someone
who used to be a teenager, but in shambles and
letting it all go to **** freely and crying in joy
at incoming apocalypse.
Nuclear, biological, biblical, bubonic, revolutionary[?].
Sleep in filth, gravity feels like the proper force
we mistook for the human soul.
The center of balance is what we thought was a third eye.
We're ******* idiots is why;
we thought dreams were some kind of heaven.
The sun was god. The earth was flat. Miracles happened.
If we're being honest, we use superstition as a crutch
to elevate beyond our ****** means and pretend
everything is going to be better than what it is.
If we didn't believe in love, and god, and karma, and ghosts,
we'd all go insane from the ******* sanity.
We eat **** to wash our palette for human flesh.
We poison ourselves to imagine we live like royals.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
I quit
Cause you are not worth
The sea of salted tears
That spill
Assaulting me
You are not worth
The red elixir
That feeds
Your distorted
Vampire needs
I retire
Before my will expires
Because I am tired
Of seeing spires
Of factories
Smoking pollutants
Choking all humans
I am through
With claiming
That the truth
Will set us free
When all I see
Is a bubonic plague
Festering and growing
Tumorous cities
Of infinite stupidity
I am finished
There is not enough spinach
To Popeye my way out
So I exit stage
Flesh and rage
Pull back those skin pages
That life was written on
Letting strangers carryon
As the carrions come
To devour me
Cause I am ******* done
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
I don’t love you anymore
yet you plague my thoughts
like a bubonic wave
and my mind is rotting
in an attempt to **** you off
I don’t love you anymore
Yet your name grips onto my tongue
like a loaded gun
ready to shoot at any chance it gets
I don’t love you anymore
but I secretly hope
that you still might love me
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
Like the back of a cart during the bubonic plague,
I’d have to say a dead mans story is long,
But very vague,
As we learn little from the lessons of history,
We treat is as an obsolete and unsaid sort of mystery.
The difference between black and white,
A bird in seat or flight,
A tense and dangerous human right,
As if as much as we can see,
Is the boundary of our site;
If we treat each other as we would like to be treated;
Why does a teacher tell us to remain seated?
They don’t say sit back and relax in any context,
Instead they emphasize not to use bad words or obscene text.
Am I not allowed to tell you to sit down?
Tell you I owe you nothing but a respectable frown?
I owe you nothing but decency,
Not a mind filled with verbs in which I hope others translate boundlessly.
To say I sleep with a pillow,
Is like saying I steep tea like I reap benefits from the luxuries,
Of today’s modern cars and inventions.
To assume I immorally influence a young child in growth,
Is like assuming I don’t walk the sidewalk to remain safe,
From the wind of wild traffic to my left and to my right,
Or to say we don’t disobey ancient conventions,
In which mankind is barred from flight.
Between SpaceX and NASDAQ,
And the jealous old man named NASA,
“Good Wall Street” ain’t looked at,
As the media keeps its mind where its eyes remain fixed;
On the flaws and the findings,
The wars and the signings,
The fear of dead children whose pics we find blinding.
The new Rules of Engagement,
Angers militaristics in danger,
Of bullets and shrapnel they volunteered to go face;
They are angry at the awareness created by J. Assange,
When ****** was collateral damage, to which they are fond;
It’s strange, as truth is now treason,
And a man needs a reason,
To liberate information we deserved in the first place,
Yet our apathy, indifference, and anger at ourselves,
Commits us to a stage of denial within book-shelves,
Inside which we fear ‘it,’
We fear ‘them,’
And ‘their’ ****
Yet we hallow the ground in our mind in which we hide action;
For we fear that we’ll be charged for our thinking’s infractions.
Please reassure me that I’m free,
And that I am my own faction.
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
The stakes of civilization burn mundane flares fighting wars with HAZ-MAT suits. The nonsense blabbers death on the rotting flesh of surreal zombies. Late distillations throw parties--singing songs to dummy suicides, martini holsters in bubonic grief. Stupid people do smart things in this 24601 world. Frost penalization claims ghosts as lost lovers. Stupid people make catacombs from burning villages in carbon sockets.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
I am 14.6 billion years old. I am energy traveling at the speed of light,
I am a single proton with one orbiting electron, perfectly balanced
With quarks and bosons and higgs inside
And pieces of matter yet to be understood by man.
I am every star, every atom of Hydrogen fused to Helium.
I am a massive object of molten rock, cooling and fusing.
I am trilobite knee and dinosaur tooth,
Wooly mammoth hair fiber.
I am Permian Extinction, I am Ice Age, I am all surviving species.
I am most distant brothers of man, I am first language and first songs.
I am Bubonic Plague and Death
And life out of new molecules from old.
I am the Industrial Revolution,
I am Depression and Holocaust and oppression.
I am titanium and assembly line.
I am Perseid meteor shower and Halley ’s Comet.
I am every black hole,
Inside, another whole universe of me.
I am seconds young, and I have much to learn of
The multitudes of the universe, myself.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
I feel empty.
A black hole in my center,
taking all of my gravity,
annihilating my heart rate,
captivating it to molecular weight.
I feel hollow.
An irascible clout,
of unimaginable doubt.
Day-in-and-day-out.
I wonder--
Will this ever finish?
This plague of bubonic proportions.
A rage sung in monotonic tones.
I ask--
Have I seen this all before?
A red light, in hindsight,
despite holding on too tight.
Warnings of pure dread,
Heard over head,
The last true mouthpiece
spoken in tongues.
Freedom of assembly,
where there is no law,
of degeneration.
Divination;
or
a lack of.
I say again,
I feel vacant.
A hole in my soul,
where all I am,
comes tumbling out.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
The crease between his eyes
when he laughs. The fact that
he is the epitome
of beautiful. The other fact,
that he
can't
stand
it
when I call him beautiful.
He is beautiful,
in the essence of the word.
Because he is ever so genuine.
Innocent like a baby bird.
Because he is a bulldozer,
pushing through the rough terrain;
he makes it look easy.
Gentle, a feather grazing a cheek
Passionate; fire unfolding and unfolding
into ferocious flames; intimate coals,
sizzling with heat as they huddle.
Because he bobs like a turtle,
draws cartoons that are real
and sparks my renewing imagination.
The fact that he withstood the bubonic plague
and kept me on the other side.
The fact that a poem is nowhere near
enough to explain
what he means to me.
He is the mountains.
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 3:22 PM UTC
It breaks my heart that women are assaulted in every country
like, I wish I could attribute it to one bad thing
I wish I could blame it on America or the economy or bubonic plague
I wish it only stung like hot coffee on her tongue
I wish **** were an ocean I could drain the water out of
but some people just think others should be put in a brown bag.
Limbs, limbs, limbs. Are we all just body parts
attached by tendons and cursed by muscles that mothball when we
need to cut the eyeball sockets of someone who wants
to mince clavicles, button noses, great big hearty belly giggles?
Every memory is sorry and starry, every piece of her *****
and I just want to blame it on one
******* bad thing, I want something so disgusting to make sense.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
Donald, what is wrong with you?
You’re really acting strange.
It’s like your mind has measles
Or bubonic plague or mange.
Something sick is going on
Down deep inside your mind.
It seems to make you stupid
As well as deaf to facts and blind.
Maybe sometime decades back
You might have made some sense
But we have watched a long time now
And it hasn’t happened since.
You don’t seem to be able to
Tell the facts from the lies.
You are getting stranger daily
We can see it in your eyes.
You always were a reprobate
A fact you couldn’t really hide.
Your responses were so obvious
We saw the truth you kept inside.
You looked down on women,
Looked at them as just toys.
You carefully referred to gays
As naughty twisted boys.
You never had much use for blacks
Except for menial kinds of labor.
You certainly didn’t want any of them
To end up as your neighbor.
And now you want control of
The Presidential nuclear codes.
Do you want to sell them off
To buy stuff to put up your nose?
No, Donald, you are sick as hell
And we’ll be glad when you are gone.
The rest of us have had enough
And think you should move on.
Maybe you can get a job
Playing high stakes liar’s poker.
That might fit a guy like you:
A dangerous and unfunny joker.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Our Father, who art in heaven
I have some confessions.
I am terrified.
Of what?
Everthing.
I break into plague-like bubonic hives when I worry about THE future, my future,
any future because it does not involve any of the nows.
Moments of newness and unclarity, of strangers and distant conversations of topics I know not of yet,
weeks in agony trying to earn money for rent,
days waiting for a sign, in the form of a plus or minus, to dictate whether or not
a parasite grows in my womb.
Father, I sin daily
for I am a glutton
in my eyes.
I see flaws in my appearence,
though no horrible disfigurements exist;
in my thoughts, this is even more unforgivable,
the invention of sorrows that are not mine,
the pitiful desire for perfection.
I feel I do not deserve the wonders that I have.
Grant me the ability to feel secure and grateful
rather than worthless and guilty.
Oh brother, woe is nobody
for all is too good to waste,
yet nearly impossible to entirely feel.
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC
Written here lies Death
Stolen from thorny bed
To ohcre hills supreme
Listen, Hark his corny scream.
Where ist thy rest
Thy nest
Thou bubonic plague
Thou quenchless drought
Thou fierant rage
Speaks silent midst of hill
Least silent under my windowsill
Aught but light takes this cheery gill
Not Death’s wide spread
Despite it’s fevered ill
In many minds doth overtake
In simple minds, an earthquake.
But gathered in our princely arms..
Big F You to these ailing qualms.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
i know, weird, i get to chomp on a baguette,
practice dentistry on a chimpanzee,
say my ******** is a ******
and i get to put on weight
through lack of piston antics,
faking wins in the tour de france
with lance...
i'm turning a ***** bank into a cushion
or a tissue... it's ******* great,
she's doing all the rhino things a man
would, but she's not investing in
househusbands, because the banker children
are having a: he broke my Transformer figure
heart-attack moment like getting a bad haircut...
not earning a million...
but i still rather be Chinese, a son who's father's
mother was living with him under the same roof...
a safeguard against the western epidemic of dementia
like the bubonic plague with detached social
interactions... so much freedom! so much freedom!
no wonder! you forsake familial bonds for
interactions with strangers! no wonder you voided
long-term associations or Andy Warhol friendships
worth 15 minutes... he was't quoting fame...
he was saying: in the future, people will experience
15 minutes of friendship.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
Echoes of words never said reverberate
through the desolate rotundra of my mind
encapsulating stabbing nothingness
featuring the limits of chaotic kismet
until the shade creeps into my eyes
like bubonic wraiths scouring the globe
searching for cravings, craving the search
discovering urchins and serpents alike
in the ocean that now fills my eyes
I watch a giant squid shoot ink
and articulate itself away
swimming to the bottom of my retina
where everything is flatter to withstand the pressure
bottom feeders suckle at the **** of the depths
pervading my flattened vision
swirling in a frenzy over pieces of my eyes floating downward
forming an inescapable black mass
trapping me in its rotating world
until a bioluminescent olm wanders through
trying to reach the surface
its light inspires me to follow
like I could grow to one day glow
in the sheltered cove of my eyes
the salamander rescued me to
where the shade still exists
with feeders beneath
but all those do anymore
is make my sanctuary feel like home.
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 6:18 PM UTC
It's a thick blue
awning, sludge and
sap. Wax trudging and
churning
in my
bowels.
I lay in the
bed, like some
sort of fat cat --
just eaten my fair share
of mice.
Disgust and
green, bubonic and
glee, can I
smile? Can I dial?
Can I
laugh. I've gotten
off the phone with
the quack.
Medication so
raw and sore like
boils redder than
dawn and more,
chinese red and
yellow ochre,
feed me nausea,
until it's
over.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC