From Cunt to Chin
I got something like metal, gettter thicker in my veins, sliding slowly through my blood stream, constricting my movements. It is a toxic, slushy energy that doesnt belong in me, near me, around me, but it is there, nonetheless, like a disease. It borders on starvation, as it swarms through me, looking for pale, dirty nourshiment somewhere hidden in corners of my fingers, hidden in the empty fields of my intestines, hidden in the ragged cities of my flickering synapes. Searching, devlving into wherever that endless abyss, thriving inside our lives, lies.
My veins ripple under the surface, like injected pumps fueled, filling with poison, pulsating, trying to expel the danger, the growing erruption, the growing nearness of my insides spilling outside. I'm restless, like a ground in rain, rivers underneath my clothes, muddy days spread across my brain, an excessive drip of rancid IV liquids leftover from other sick patients, crusty and metallic. Sour bits and bouts with consciousness, it is alive in me, sentient. Taking over. Running aground, a steel tanker bursting through the tips, and lips slick with salted seas. I can almost say it. My tongue sand swollen, cuts my mouth; it creeps up my throat in mad rushes of maybe.
Cut me from cunt to chin.
Cut me from cunt to chin.
Cut me from cunt to chin.
posted by swordpoet @ 5:57 AM
<< Home