Sunday, 13 September 2015

You ane Whose Dildos? (for Tom Archer).

Ballad crangs out bang on
strut nowt
                     fifty lights coined
             face trans* manifestations as a
                     blister with content
as a wasp does flag it
paged with intention seventeen
big hard men swirling on their
dildos lament: I hate you, jokingly.

Each light is a man
hurdling no content
jaspered load up scuttling.

Am: disposed to leaves

am: am,, armor
dice et lamina love heals
nothing is healed by it itself is just
              a feeler
to the wasp grib her back up
open to not light swivel chair
19 percent expectency. Wrestle
it open.

The walls of the
words bend in. Like it or
don't fucking like it, as they say.

No comments:

Post a Comment