tonight's poem:

[blacksmiles]

thou art nothing but a wilting flower,

die tonight. you best repent.

silly fuck.

you silly fuck:

-take thine hand and thine heart, for i am but a slave to death-

and we shall make love...

if i hadn't the time, untied, to filter thy entrails of your wreath which lay soaked in catharsis and pudding- i would see nothing but curry. bad curry.

in an ovum we shall bathe. the juices. the juices.