Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Can you grow me a new tooth?

my rock is decayded
coming off of ween skull
brain hole pore out
wrapped swirling sausage links
stink gum chew
would hate to live
on an island pelvic punching fu-fu
grinds on bluechrist statue

ma ma
how can you eat without teeth
how can you still
when baby chunks gone
purging gravity spite of toof-airy wing
vein pinion decomposing
but maybe they were scrub mud
from your tooth spit and sweat
of feary wiped clean beneath
her armpit pillow are mind
when if I turn in sleep cyclone
and catch her deadlock pearl dress
fade away and left
hollow tunnels crossing path
cell universe walls that cluster
absinthe organelles
into bitter shrubs of a whole
sponge membrane that doesn't remember
how fun it can be to jerk off
out of bodies and tin tin nabulation-gala
in ribs jangle skeletal
chalky gum tongue
lost in the black back a blanket triad
connected at the seam-thread
stands on tip toes of microscopic
fring walking fly-poop
from the place
it eats an origin shrunken to
saliva slime and the hundred eye gulp
hang fly on linoleum streak
residue hang-lick a squeeze mongol
bunched into ballzbzzz....

fly friends
must have meant the opposite
of walking pregnant tar snowmen
babe bulge of delicate four
running in nature's ruffle dress
bubble this innocent dirt
smear on the dolly's face,
in the corn stocking run
the sun would be angry if she
saw this flower-boy kiss
dainty girl hidden beneath bear head
with savage foam rabies-love lock
wood charm where fleeting
mushroom bug ladies
red the skin future fang

one day
the surface beneath will bite
animus and the hue mince
flesh will invert into
swallow able particles
so that those bug lady and lady men
will mutate, and the color aura
spectrum fetor will dry wizen bodies
ladybug flicker in the light room
x-ray exoskalien's ain't even insect crept
buttons eating larval pack nibblets
but when pressed hard against
the finger the dulcet warriors last glimpse
of life is the one eye pattern
identity-maze and their lime green guts
will drool into my teacup palm
please bubble wrap the angel
until she is blue in the face-think
quiet dark matter
that drip off ceilings
are planetary fiction

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