ELEGANCE PART 5: NEUTERED PANTHERS PRETEND TO PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS
Exposed claw hammers scrambles brains.
Fluttering childishness...
Feathers too black to be a cardinal...
Feathers too red to be a crow...
Brow-beatings turn into rape.
Glitter horses have to be drawn to be remembered.
Hulking tumors leave either half-smiles or predatory nature.
New horse shit is used to cover old horse shit.
Soft old baby sheets bring calm and comfort before sad teeth end you.
A stinking maw parts to kiss your face.
Drunk bones work without the heart.
Screaming out at modern culture begs for dismemberment.
The quiet people notice the wilting arrangement as the others cackle.
Arson makes sense as the season changes.
The hardest part of cleaning is getting started.
Small fowns greet a smudge on wing tipped shoes.
Elegance is always lost before the bloodshed.
Parading ones quills isn't always the best strategy.
Dig...
Dig...
Dig in deep.
When you need to be removed it may be too late.
A person on a machine talks about a hit-and-run accident, footage is shown.
A car speeds.
Bodies fly.
A driver smiles.
I draw a series of misshaped circles in response.
Soft old baby sheets confuse me.
I feel calm.
The blood stops pumping as fast.
My wings tuck in uniformly to my body.
I close my mouth and forget I can fly.
Then I remember how to beg for my life.
Then my cries for help turn reflexive.
I am nothing now.
My husk carries on spasmodically.
The dying creates the dead, afterward, self-centered ghoulishness creeps back.
A concern for ones own husk returns...
Floors remain...
Electricity remains stolen.
Heartless bones continue to move.
Tumors continue to feast and fester.
Harrowing days come in all shapes and sizes.
Cowardly behavior resulting from kindness ends in soft and languidly drawn periods.
It's so slow we hardly notice the sand in our eyes.
