Said the Sphinx I’ll tell you in sin

Two, three. She’s a nauseous thing.
Got more, got flesh? No lips.
All lips. Sixty five inches baby,
a nigger between cells seeking
protein and drink and dimes.
Two, three zones in the glee
perverts feel for positivity.

Not a voice, a tremor in my head.
Two, three cancers came out
when the hole turned soft.
Sons are dead the world ’round.
Sons are moaning in mud.
Do not now nor did give a fuck—
little brother, little wretch,
it’s a drought going on here.

Two, three waterings lying there.
Baby I just grew horns on my brow.
Fairy tales cost much. I’ll tell
you how to have nasty sex instead.
Two, three hands turn silent—
baby that’s how you know you’re home.
Inside is a special treasure.

Now fight fair. Two, three
hours later you might look.
Opponent opposite your sitting shadow.
Fight fair honey, it’s all you got
that doesn’t rot. Honey like honey
the tops you’re the tops I’ll fling
the veins carrying you to family.
Carrying again like the interspecies whore.
Two, three kinds of sin.

Horse dick, two, three of them.
She ain’t mine, I own you.
I am in a hand you stole
after all, baby sugar baby grunt.
She’s hot plate to your nova
is what I’ll tell you baby hunt.
Just try hunter you, I grew horns,
the maples will lend me antlers long.

Your mother mistook you. She did.
Who is born in a creaking toilet?
Who is born two, three times over—
Saturday—guns on guns the talk.
Honey, it’s all guns on guns.
We are patinas on raging alcoholics.
I’m somewhere in a wrinkle.
Find me, try to find me where you
blew me a manic kiss of placenta.

Pop off. It all pops hold it enough.
Gurgle of the sky, honey baby bitch,
that’s the wax in your ear.
Sparkle in your eye is only spark
leaping from a fidgety outlet.
Honey baby bitch, two, three
needs constitute me. You think more.
Include laughter if adamant,
honey, two, three gouges later

aren’t you a spectacular ghetto.
There is no therapy to cure.
Must unplug. Spark it all up.
Retina cornea. Kidney medulla.
Die, honey, I’ll beg, die—
die die die die die die die—
turn flat—move over, shriek.
How many—does it take?—
two, three maybe, killer, baby—
mercy me, neither the doe has mercy—
half-lion where’s your body—


~ by Jeremy on May 18, 2011.

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