Wednesday, April 25, 2012

there's nothing wrong, it has dreams

there’s nothing wrong with this forest
it has levels
flat trees
layers of indiscriminate background
we climb ladders
you follow lines
he smell some kind a shit
they stumble on exploited fat black hog
little ashy hoglets suckin on her titties

kill the hog, kill the
hog kill the hog
hog kill
I kill hog

there’s nothing wrong with this barn
it has levels
us perches outside on broken branches
peeping through shadowed spaces
of yellowed tiles and rust shaped shingles
having to watch blue amazonian cat goddess
swing from the rafters, with him
on her back, boner popped

humping fluff tufts
fluffin hump tuffs
tuff humpin
I break fluffin branch 

there’s nothing wrong with this bed
it has blankets
tying together lovers who cling
to each other, shouting this
bed has levels
from across the room
we find this big baby, he dark and
handsome with orange recorder penis
she say how we play this
push me in for smell
intrudes wispy thin moustache
watered up from wispiest tips of
neon spectrum trolls hair
popped up from baby’s white whicker
fireplace crib
takes a whiff
that smells
worse than phyllis 

phyllis whiffer
I whiff phyllis diller

No comments:

Post a Comment