cast long this shadow doubt.
trachoma eyes for the darkness of my prose
shout tall and stall the tumble of the fleas
a straight knee chase
a cargo train for the transport of my seeds
desert spots on the swelling of my boil;
city lights brothelled in a breeze
a pedestal fan for the stalking of my heat
streaming the journey of the soil
as spoils three minutes of my sight.
enlighten the gulf of a bright tortilla wrap sex
vex the annoyance of the chrome;
an adopted child of a dysentary fibre.
am I a child in fibreglass form
or a viscount earl with a bondage brain
fondling the peaches from the slums
with my plum scented alcatraz in a hormone boot
kicking the surplus of my sums?
how bittersweet the grumbles of my cane
a miners chest of willows with a crooked shrimp
humping the cowbirds forming of a wing.
sing beneath the fortune of delight
bright tides on a severed monkeys tail
inhale and choke on the afterbirth of my ale!
be merry this berry of a butterfly blue
nest with the anger of my eggs.
cast long this shadow doubt.
trachoma eyes for the darkness of my prose
a black rose spit
as quickens our tasting of the wreath;