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Comic gingles freak the magic whip
to famine
I dance and I trip my feet in a whisk
traces of where I lived in a trendy cuming
left me yearning a left over sense that
the breath is stunning, too young to change this bloody wanting
churning

Came as you were a clown in tears
to linger these cracked spaces in my lasting lips of master taste
to thirst
the bed I made in love and hate
caresses my whispering dreams and wakes
causing cough and spit and waste in craze
today and red stain upon the sheet
a miscounted busy street in a tormented town burning in need
where wires trade in words so wanting
churning

Looks in colored licks of purple
laundry piles in a governing carelessness
and the mold that stains the basin washes everything that you are
closing the stars in my future wars to be so diligent and to work in a stingy bar
the calories I take are for you to feel later and for I to smell so sweet when I open my leak at night
to know your doings in the back of my body and remind myself of a nightly
wanting
churning