something i needed to do

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the world feels stronger viscerally. curls like paint chips under intense heat. which key to press to avoid the needless result. i open and close. my mouth must move toward the parting flesh. it cries, a rip in, and the fabric, lush touching lush, undressed, feel the liberty anus contracting. to
feel is to break wide open; or apart. it is vital to the apparatus; what? to answer is to enter the sewage system and swim in filth and quietly choke on the smell of fesces, on the smell of fiction. taking five, seven, nine ----- to visually grasp (the actual loss of hair); and filth, and butter your very sandwich. leave the violence chisel until it chills. dress up! wash myyour hands! leave with tenderness a leach to guard the whores of myyour truth; our fingers are shaking and due to the heat, smoke drift upwards. a heat that is shining, retching and reaching us inside and we place the burning void outside of its reach and as the world reaches for myyour face we are consumed


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