Candiru swim up hungry whore gapes,
Smooth as an oyster, too slow to escape.
Erogenous zones cut, corroded away,
The song & the dance number, too painful to play.

Shadows flicker tired sun,
Eating out the virgin orifice of space.

Valiantly neglected tax-evading mutual masturbators procreate, milking adolescence. Loose lipped former shepherd mortified by deadly contraband kept precariously in underwear elastic. World of plastic or plasticine shaped by machines. Consume, feed the meter, tie up loose ends. Leave a beautiful body for your friends. Paint a pretty little picture, but reflections fluctuate. Scrape the food off of your plate and plan to push past hypochondria, and go out in the grass—rush to fingertips, slap, skin stitched too tightly as overflow dream of flushed red cherry groves.

Sallow lips curl like rotting honeycomb. Concentrated droplets mend to inside of throat like salt-corroded snails to mud. Tongue dragged about like an old, wet, cardboard box, each sensation of taste being left among concrete teeth. Forked of 90 degrees turned bite without blood, and without blood, there is no pain. Regeneration but once you’re gone, you’re far gone and no amount of severed skin, no tacklebox of hooks, can keep you from believing: You’re all a barren body of false indoctrinations with mouths like marionettes. Perforated fluid to focus. Idle as our idles disable able bodies. We stand and watch, we step and stir, but are stuck in sallow skin. Materialize inner visions like blind politicians. Dishonesty decapitating truth. Dualist, detrimental, depressive and with the weight of 1000 dead eyes, your liable lips seal shut. Your secret’s safe with me, disillusionist of smut.