(this one i actually wrote in my journal a few months back, but its themes are gnawing at me right now. thus the electronic transcription.)
all creamy nails
smooth pink tentacular worm legs
grown tooth and fang,
adopting a jivey vernacular
to romance the skin.
what violence we commit in the name of love!
passive brain disconnects, floating unanchored
up and down the blue white and
rose-petaled column
extended firm-handed by whomever
shuffles between these two places,
facilitating fish-eyed,
mouth agape contact.
on earth we chortle,
marveling houdini farce of
whatever this world isn't.
but the darkness of it.
it's this that thrusts true earth in my lap,
brackish mix of hell-heaven.
black hole of mind's eye,
if you had a mouth...
pink manual legs,
if your knees could talk...
perhaps then we'd be outed from limbo.
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