NOTHING, MENISCUS, VIRGINity grown back into, traVERSE
what hope REFERS TO NOTHING BUT THE CUPidity
SO SLOWLY knocked, with the candle, UPSIDE DOWN: this one A TROOP
OF SIRENS ON THE CEILING could not awaken DROWNS in blood liquor.
MY DIVERS means of alienating FRIENDS, suppose WE NAVIGATE
to the root WITH ME/my blood ALREADY ON THE POOP-sample at thirty-four.
i DECK YOU with surplus fat TO CONSTITUTE THE PROWess i don’t confess.
THAT CUTS THE crap to fit its cloth, WAVE-CRESTed, LIGHTNING-LITeral.
I’M BUTTONHOLED BY strategic DRUNKENNESS
THAT DOESN’T EVEN hurt, FEAR only THE SWELLing breasts
i bring TO BEAR UPon art, should RIGHTly acclaim THIS BENISON:
SOLITUDE kills real people, A REEFer is just for now, A STAR
turns on TO ANY TRICK THAT VALIDATES self, my image, cast down on
yOUR CANVAS, my motive, SEAMLESSLY OPAQUE.