Strumming shifts through the slits
A vagabond grazes grains that rise against
Ever so lightly a tranquil gust unearthed
Redundant sounds resound
With drenched rows of fabric
Bunched and bundled
Clumps of violet---we ingest
The excess 'til illness augments
Within each pore
Pressure mounts its lowly steed
A grim sight for Young Lass
She crumbles like a rancid loaf
Stored atop the towering shelves
Mucus merges into hollowed, clotted whites
As firm as thigh, as round as discs
The contortionist arrives, tangled in unyielding havoc
Twisting like a deadened fig in the summer breeze
Flopping upon the desolate shore, yearning for life
Bubbling solace halted like a stone scraping the bottom of the ocean
Spewing melancholy gusts as the wind claws down
Upon the frail limbs flattened to the
Knitted underbelly
Suns secrete as daylight encroaches
Moons penetrate, darkness scathes
Dimming bleariness
Coiled webs One carves into
A saw piercing chipping paint
Falling freely, staggered lines of powder
Grains as fine as dust
Nostril to brown etchings
Churning sweetly in ecstasy
Predetermined pleasures
Soak up potential predators
Well-oiled well---evaporating into transparencies
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