the raw tiger milk suck was hurting my teeth
my mouth a fanatic angery
fraught cannon
at the lip of hysteria would it leave
would you leave me to my devices
the chicken
wing would wring from me
a cheese string they call the soul
when you would leave me a panera bread
might pop up as the garden sought black gristle from the char
fracas the ouroboros sign tattooed on your chest
under the hair I want put there I think I've seen pictures of you
in the dicktionary and when I splattered on
the entry the door the vomitorium the solarium
the chiseledarium I couldn't atrium to myself any more
any quickening could I feel our baby turning