~*~
Morning Fragment
Marmalade glistens thickly on the blade,
waiting. Residue of nightmares oozes through
hairline cracks, unspoons me, smears my eye-whites.
The eggs are bloodshot. The bread is dark red and seedy.
Pastries burst from steel slots. Empty hot wire ribs glow
like electrified corset boning. Tiny carapaces crawl out
of my throat and pose as sweetly glazed crumb cake.
~*~
With Her Slightly Crooked Mouth Mirage
Maybe she’s just a slice just a splice just a sheath just a construct;
mutilized decoupage impacted between fake teeth.
With her alphabetized file folders of kinky sex. With her malfunctioning mechanisms to spur obstructed ducts.
Maybe she’s just a slice just a splice just a sheath just a construct;
fancified platter presenting a pink layer cake from an E Z Bake oven that fucked
some kind of medical oddity. With her vagina dentata bluffed beneath a cocktease aperitif.
Maybe she’s just a slice just a splice just a sheath just a construct.
Mutilized decoupage impacted between fake teeth.
~*~