Wednesday, April 25, 2012

love is air

inside a shanty skull, squatting
atop a twist-tie turtleneck,
choke crunching sticks with the
fish dry-baked out,
circulating sewage in and out
in an endless shit loop,

mud-sliding a moldy
light tunnel, tinker-toy
distraction walls preaching
soapbox sadist to the
masochistic crowds inside
a body bag, one
suffocates, but sometimes, two
brings air.

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