you vomit my head,
I think for you portable
feeler folded in a dank wallet
you hover around my intestinal wings,
I smash your skull with a bronze cock.
The precision of two heels
that pepper the receptacle.
Fact of a bearded eye
circling a slick path
with a lather of words
worn as a chain
your sensitive scum
my knife's wetting
and bullet's waiting room
a creamy punching bag
a friend of the leaked percentage
hacked off limbs
and active head planning
the tits of a Lego goddess
your textbook gazes
I lavishly demolish
nude from the snow
a brick fed glove
upholstered and attacking
a spring blade epilogue
thrift wings and things talking.
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