#formaldehyding

[image ID: three pictures of a collage of letters in shade of black and red, and a screenshot of the text, which reads:

all roads lead back to the clinic,

old rome chose well its metaphor;

no straying path, sir, for the sick.

got lost? helpless? a need – chronic -

to keep your kids, your pulse, your door?

all roads lead back to the clinic.

upon drift from the dad or dick

quick transfer back to the right floor –

no straying path, sir, for the sick.

its walls stand tall, prophylactic

for what’s after & was before:

all roads lead back to the clinic.

bodies pile its gravel (frantic

& facing back); one more, one more.

no straying path, sir – for the sick.

lead yourself back to its gates, quick

and screw those bolts out from its core.

all roads lead back to the clinic,

[image ID: three pictures of a collage of letters in shade of black and blue, and a screenshot of the text, which reads:

see it, feel it, its flow - to, fro –

here, the sauna – where bodies stack

as you kneel - down, up, down - they go.

how else can public bodies grow,

without some public-bath bareback?

see it, feel it, its flow - to, fro –

for hundreds of years it’s been so,

want enshrined on a faubourg’s plaque.

as you kneel - down, up, down - they go.

tempting image for the homo:

its own face shining on wall lacque -

see it, feel it, its flow - to, fro –

machines catch speed – rumble in tow –

down a great, saturated track;

as you kneel - down, up, down - they go.

you said to clean up those fags, no?

here: the sauna shines like shellac.

see it, feel it, its flow - to, fro –