black
blood the rancid shit comes from deep deep in the
bowel that’s a sign
a deadly sign of cancerous infestation some vicious invader eating at my guts that’s slow death death
by maggots incremental relentless
I know from the pathology I’m in the balance I only have ounces left
to live but don’t we
all? we fend off creeping rot with lacerated
hands and shrieks of denial not now please not
now but if not now when?
my gut is home to numerous
infestations and
inchoate hunches
I feel things with my gut the way you might feel with your
fingertips or your love
pump my worms have tendrils everywhere they think they call the
shots I can ignore their more extreme fear fuelled demands until they lay on the
brain pulse
and cripple my membrane with the hurt
they force me into drastic actions which will inevitably lead to humiliation such is the frailty of human nature we are often in the
squishy dark groping blindly for comprehension in the shit and slime thinking with the gut not with the mind
my skull is packed with stained sheets and rare botanical
exhibits of stolen graveside flowers taught to help
myself but not too much I flounder now on the shores of dementia my public decomposition and damaged precocity have burgeoned to insane
dimensions
I have become a spectacle for leering jaws and wagging tongues I’m making manic with the sorry classicists who bought me dinner and stole my luggage they share their condolences as they rifle my drawers I stand subordinate to my monomania awkward in my anaemic droplets frantically attempting regeneration through my psycho reflex