under the cover of darkness the hum
at the terminal of flickering eccentricity
black light vendetta insight the submerged
problems ignored like the blanketed pigs.
language lacerated at a theatre chair
ripping out the anethasized dream
of wisdom you can’t regrow on
if you can tie me down to the shrine
don’t forget to book your shrink
And if you need a drink your probably
Not for me minke.
in the morning Im busy eating vowels
cotton clouds staring at luminous jellys
tracing my skull for where the arrows.
Scrapped my pen lined brow.