transfix that smile for me, corpse handler
we're elbow deep in muck now
and there is fire on my lips
or poison
and sticky residue droplets of absinthe
courageous with myself i can find nothing that surprises
with these lines all over the place i stammer
strap on your magnet boots or i will lose you
to the heavens, the void, the cold all over
never to recover but for. .
pickaxe
blisters and slivers afflicting me
and bore
with two jagged hooks through to find anchor