I think in blocked time
The ingredients sport half-lives
Seize breakfast then vitamin myself all the way to 100% walking upright
Like early man. What's the opposite of prone?
Bipedal like what bikes have.

The curb burps as another one goes under
Pedestrians mining
Coins ingested by metro cards
Change of weather: sunny aorta turned cloudy vessel
Heart pumps diesel: sooty throat.

Walls shift as a rubix cube does
All sheetrock but not the canvas kind?
Capped bolt. Woman wielding stud-finder, incessant beep
Monthly, guts ring, are dampened by maxi pads
Charon redwater rafting: fast delta, or where fish sift chum through gills.

If I could stick my finger down my throat I would, and make this migraine stop
Lecturing me. I have an enjambed hipbone who loves overacting the role of Robin Goodfellow
Whenever I take the ball to the hole, The King doth keep his revels here tonight: I go inside out, right, lay it in
off the glass without it touching the rim. My defender says Either I mistake your shape and making quite or
else you are that shrewd and knavish shooting guard.

Out like you from my reading.
Cannot even enjoy painting on mirrors anymore.
The music side of a microwaved cd, held up to view.
I burn copies of my LP in a freezer: check write cd text information but no rewrite protection.
Feel free to sign me to a multi-million dollar record contract I don't mind touring Europe Watermelon chews so
magically delicious.

Sheets are going to change around here.
Flimsy wind. For my birthday last year we went to Paper Moon in Georgetown,
Me, Maia, Lincoln, Ryan, Soraya, her Australian roommate, and someone who was not important enough to
remember. You know how I mean. I would appreciate it if the chief employees of the restaurant would see fit
to publish this on the cover of their new menus.

Get me some water. Now. Please? Leakage like blood from my lip. Foul: I got that.
Will looks like what I imagine a slave fresh of the boat from Africa then to Charleston where sold for over a grand because
a giant of a man has some wits about him and on his way to New Orleans
would look like. I defend Will, he drives to the hole with elbows up. Clocks me on the chin
music for writing this. Interdental pronunciation of a tongue bitten deeply. Excruciatingly solid food.

When it sweats, it pores.
Hunger is a cockblocker.
Sex is like a one-act
that should be made into two
by Jeremy Gardner.