In little sunrise of goblin eyes,
I watch the coupling of the flies.
Under waving trees and bumble bees
I strain to amputate my knees.

With [bad word] cutters made of mutton,
My eyes gleam green as moss jade buttons.
I will not wake from childish dreams –
I cannot bear to catch the screams.

I cannot bear to catch the screams
Of bugs impacting on windshield screens.
I shave my tab with turquoise sickle,
From its stub the fishes trickle.

My stunted fingers, [bad word] stained knuckles,
Clogged with blood, start to buckle.
Murdered turtles, mildew, moss,
Dead pets in gardens – I’m the boss!

My smile is wide in seas of cider,
Pull your teeth with geese and spiders,
Cup these jaws in my hand,
Make them jig in globs of sand.

I write these words to pass the time,
And stay alive – two shaves and shine
– And block out the sound of chickens’ wails,
Defeathering them on beds of nails.

Yeah. 

Contort yourself
Contort yourself

Contort yourself
Contort yourself

Contort yourself
Contort yourself