(sudden dialogue)
six directions of cleavage
important cerebral cuff
malice, like a headache, or a
some sea swept brig, lost to the noise
pendulates in its mooring, taut then slack.
Twists like rugged vampiric hands, across the valley that they've spoken
you got them nice new holes in yr neck. i bet breathing used to be kind of easy, huh, sister disco?
...or some such, the ephemeral hello that so eludes us
conffeti massacre
i wish he would call, or write me back. i am tired of being hurt.
i think he has deep psychological problems, not that there's anything wrong with that.
it works like a magic trick
slowly to the poof
of one's own superiority
do you even know my name?