Masticating razors

Fill in the margins of intentions
With bilirubinous sunsets
That look awe-inspiring from distances
But the closer you get
Barbs materialize within your being
The more you move
The more you prove everybody’s point
The one that you don’t “get” apparently
So yet, you rush to struggle to explain
While all else look at the reddening sky

Advertisements

Cyst brewed concoction

A writhing lizard’s tail
Dancing to the tune
Of melodies made
By instruments used
To sever it
A rhythm which I just imagine
While someone else
Strings it together

The sound of the apple bite
Overlaid on the ovoid panflute signature
A character saying the word “issue”
Stressing the S into an aristocratic snake’s hiss
On a glistening green countryside matte painting
But standing on top rather than before it
As if only the players have switched
But the posture remains constant

Cello strings and hand saw
Roadrunner CEO of Acme
A throne with each peg
Deep in slit necks
Of bodies offered comfort unbeknownst
Rocks worn smooth with lymph
Watch your step
Might end up being heir of the throne

Sickly sweet smelling acid screwdriver
The medium of poison rain to paint upon
With dense millimeters of supercooled pigments
Longing for contact of a cold simmer
The hisses will be stored and repurposed
For the strung up throat lips mouthing notes
So that even when the scene is canvassed by inquisitors
We can laugh at them for falling for it

Bespoke fabrication

Stoop so low it’d make your head dirt
Face palms or for tread worse, hearse
Occult curses, recursive structures curt
Cultured furtive inserts of spur hurts

Bow so hard it’d make your spine clump
Head bumps or dumped hair bunched on eardrum
Hear some, pump turns of strung strums to visible spectrum
Speck crumbs hum, become one, burn, dump, bulk angstroms

Reach so high it’d make all things the same as each other
Gluons decay, stutter so all that’s solid melts into smoky butter
Turn into your father, mother, fraternity of oath fuckers, a sucker for suffer
Buffer of stuffed matter unstucker, flutter of luck, muck flatterer, skin slurry shit stirrer

Canned response

The tired hand retires in trained poses produced entire down to the wire
All actions in service of, pacts, 6 packs, shelving racks, pavlovian thirst desire
Best lathed plans fanned belaboured while brand chelators demand agitators on fire
Lizard brain scan fissures plane grade canister of fizzy pressure of mortal choir

Make art of genies if you bottle them, cakewalk, meanies’ necks throttle on bubbles while we call it phlegm
Neck deep in sugar debt, weeping makes the pushers thirst for formulae to new cigarette stems
Blackening gullet gulp slackening lung gut shortcut to the above sea hunchback bends
First step to amends annihilation, thirst abet ooze lends an aisle silo dilation that rends what it condemns

Beaker

Build the world with a few spare tunnels
Milled, sheared to bear eddies of credit funneled
Secrete concrete on streets, dung jets heartbeat
Flogged trees, sorry, too late now to stop bleeds
Metal shutters strut together, cut ribbon to gutters
Cylinders to fill in dirt, burial fit for fuckers
Ration the poison, foist upon those remaining buoyant
Now that its scientific, flush it down the toilet