Schmerz und Ernst von Lob, Er Danke

Poppy bouquets to me. Sinking in the still tall grass, sensitive joys passed unto me by the annual man.

He treads off the trampled path up the hill, steps up to the height of still tall grass. In the halms his weeded face parting of the red of his lips for humbled ground. He, himself kneels with his vailing bequest I entreat: Merry me

Sobriety distilled arteries chafe euphoric irritation slurped up. Soft lumps sloshing above mouth palate. Sensory fuzz welling up in the throat, curdled blood. Swallow.

Soft pink walls spreading at the fingertips, gooey paint dug out leaking on deposted bed. Mellow gouge, red hyacinth swells between the hips. Cheap vodka bottles in the yard. Scooped tissue sliced on glass shards.

Grace pearls in my hands, magnanimous kisses to my feet.

Liquid silver churns from my lids, pearl handcuffs to velvet wrists. Paper Angels taped to the walls in valley of the dolls.

Salvia salivating salvation. The knuckles urge, push unrooted sprout to conserve. Full-fledged white strains the skin.

Lips feeble, my reason falls victim and paperclips bend. My chalk skull crumbles, beneath my soles, exegesis mills.

I swallow the seeds. I punch my tattered mind. Tart stimulation, kick to the rusting spine – I punch my tattered face.

Contamination gorging restraints.

Tubes cling to the maggots, squeezing milk out their bodies. Popped larvae shells wrung dry wedged between lapping folds. Pulp mushing inside the bowels, sugar filling dumpster guts.