I’m safe inside: there’s smoke alarms
and kitchen knives so leave me alone.
It’s d**h outside: commuter vomit oozing solids
and the viruses are hunting for a home.
Did I miss my missing something that you said?
I had a sudden catastrophic deflation of interest.
In sleep we’re necromancers, resurrecting old romances:
lick your fingertips and slit open the dead.
We move through vacant places squinting through vacant faces
trying to remember what was so wrong with what we dreamt.
Did I misplace the decimal on your manifest?
There was this sudden catastrophic decompression of interest.
There’s faeces in the staples of the health reform.
"Salvation" is an anagram of "cluster bomb".
Swab the hope from the dimples of the dermoid cysts
to grout the graves we’re banning out of politeness
so stitch your mother to your brother, prey nothing goes amiss.
I dare you! I dare you!