06/01/2011
Short spaghetti
Slowly sliding up and down the crinkled woman’s
throat
Peeling tomato
Squeezing flexibly from the gap round her
eye
As she reaches, so tenderly
For her iron thorn coat
A bubble bursts on her leg
Then blood gushes from her thigh
Sliced sausages, peeling off the wall
Nose pickings all over the floor
Ashtray olives, waiting consumabley
On a stolen bench table
Sweat dripping from the ceiling
She laps a little more
With a tongue of oceanic flavour
And hands tied up in cable
Dried cucumber, nailed to her feet
Worms cleaning up her ears
A heart that rarely hits a beat
Oh, her tomato tears
As she reaches so harshly
For her grasshopper cat
The abscess on her neck creeks
Then falls, with her, to the gooey mat
Samh
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