October 25th, 2012
like cow clams sitting in juice, desirable - knee capped like the fist gripped by tolerance - the shape of the cones like Japanese dinner pieces - I feel her box contract like molten chocolates - she called home and ran thinly upstairs - tired, and drunk on the where, ran thickly down to the basement - there she stood and he stood in front of her with a crutch like a phallus - sesame seeds sprinkled across her flesh, flash-fried in a thin puss of oil - the information of getting needs to get - I’ll do it to myself - getting to his body, the sky, too.
