4 missing teeth
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Here’s a Question: how many
of’ya’teeth
should
I fucking
break—[?]
into artifacts:
sucking-out
Origin, turns to
a let-down
the Bull
shits-through
the field-works
upon One forgotten, One
falling in their own
“encapsulation” slipping
on the Street
“sleeping-
in”
a Vacancy through
the Body attempting
to fuck-out a Silence
surrounding
my calls to scrawl
all-over
the Days: squashing
us all
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well,
here’s
Hoping my Face acts-on its
Desire, against
rest, startling
a Body, in
the Street, I’m smiling
& languidly loving
the thought of
your representation
which would lick-out
“without” on
hands & knees, ears-pressed
to the street
listening-hard
for your hard-hard foot
stepping on me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m sure by now that
it’s quite clear:
I’m pretty fucking Sexy when
you think about how—
I have irritable bowel
syndrome—please, hold
my Hand, while I change
hands for wiping
away all the terms, delineated
in this World for: “I am
a Masochist” Oh, not
really you fucking
jerk up & down, yes
that’s it—[!]
Thaaaaaat’s the recipe
to Strangle
us into all these strange
positions for this *Act
s—) so unmanageable
when fumbling
for Life, under the dead
strata & the fucking nerve
you have, to place
yourself my dear
& flaunting all
your proposals
as I’m sitting here
squeezing
myself, mightily
into oh so
many droppings,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Awwwww, shit here
you go again
Your sadistic origin, is hard
to handle, fallen, on your back
wondering why you’re writing:
slaughterhouse. Pulling apart
the sentence, as if, it were Meat
thin, insistent, yet so-over You
in chronological order: I swallow,
then regurgitate, all that is rising
during the night, sad, saliva passing
through the middle, of the lips,
riddle, in the middle, of the Window,
sleep, blotting the Head, descends
with the line, accounting for the slack
Jaw dreams
