Shadows pantomime
the slow slaughter of my contentment.
A fanged pupa splits the wallpaper &
dribbles down the plaster:
It’s fangs are strong.
It’s path is a preordained perversion of gravity.
This open vein along my confinement,
this venous filled aqueduct traverses
through pubic hair, centipede larvae &
erect bobby pins, that hold up clippings,
of Claudia Octavia.


Choking down a swollen intestine
A fresh form of palisade-
induces my pores to shriek.
A gutted chalice pours pentane
down the maize colored wallpaper.
Shimmering fields of carrion stems
blossom & dodder from the breeze of a spinning cross.
Winged beatitudes
donning violin string nooses
exploit the petals
& due to a caustic din
I draw a bow across the horse hair.
A dull conflagration consumes my cheeks.
Oscillating pain.
My hands under my ribs.
Whirling drunk, my eyes stutter and tick
A plastered portcullis proudly animates
A freshly raped hamlet, the sun sets
taking what little is left of the families.
Black mold, flecks the wallpaper &
the violated genitalia simmers on the trim
murmuring candidly a
mirthful hymn, in tempo with a wasp leg
that methodically burns through the fleshy openings
of a stillborn.


I spin, shackled through compressed panic.
Yammering pupa play euchre.
Claudia Octavia mounts the palisade.
The hamlet of carrion fields violate genitalia.
I draw the horse hair whirling drunk.
I will my eyes to tighten & bleed.
A zoetrope of erect bobby pins, puncture deep at every RPM.
I spin, frantic & out of control-
towards the slow slaughter of my contentment.
Nauseous from this hell in a centrifuge.