“BRED (EEL PIT)”

it’s dark

among the mothball folds in my coat

and masked men are sticking their fingers inside,

and false fingers are breaking off inside you,

with no blood,

rubber, latex, oak,

as they run for the door, panicking,

sweat mugging up the inside of the masks,

he takes heavy sips of the cholera water

and she is eating soil

~~~

the two of them are watching

as the burning incense tumbles in the air,

catching alight the waifu pillow

that the Hill Folk use,

a living map of their warrens

making chalk marks on her soft flesh,

you can see here the baths, and the orgy pit,

and the potato farms, all growing on the pillow,

the map is the territory,

a pillow in a maze of dirt

and the pillow's face is burning,

the smell of incense everywhere

confettis of polyester floating up,

and one of those funny little people

falls to his knees, orange in the light,

weeping. and there is

a cold disunity, in the outside,

roaches making love

as the galaxies die,

i love you, i do,

we have symmetrical crustacean faces

we are rolled tightly in a paper tube,

a mold that grows in wisps,

my earrings are tarnishing in the salt air

yet my new piercings are healing well,

my inner conch, lobe, rook, daith,

inner lobe, anti-tragus, septum, septril,

my skin will grow around all of them,

a hungry pincushion,

i will eat them in this way

just like how i eat sea sponges and smaller fish

as i hover along the seafloor

~~~

i covered myself in oil,

like when there was nothing,

a kingdom of insects and grass

i was happy then

i was feeding scallops with my feet

i was holding your waist

i was smelling your hair

your eyes are black inside your face,

your eyes were blue inside your head,

i have become a bog body

in the cranberry bog

i am growing as a mandrake grows

and going to mandrake school,

i am living inside an ensor painting,

among the trinkets,

i am loudly sipping black tea

the trilobites are coming home to roost

they are clacking their limbs together

and making a deafening noise,

your pores have to be scrubbed clean

for the tendrils of the hair mold to fill them in,

(it's growing on you because you are bread)

aphids are chewing me away,

and other aphids are off to one side taking notes,

smoking cigarettes,

as our corpses are tossed into the eel pit,

darling, where the eels live,

and breed in their mysterious rituals,

and it is true that i keep a thetan

from one of tesla's pigeons

in a glassy crystal under my bed,

~~~

hieronymus bosch is slowly lowered down by a rope,

past the semisphere of the firmament

he is delicately overlaying textures on each polygon

with a small brush, a jeweler’s loupe over one eye,

painting nail polish on one, sanding another into brass,

damn it if these creatures

didn’t move when i turned my back,

he’s rotating 45 degrees

and then moving ten meters south,

and lathering the head of a chimpanzee,

which is in turn washing oil off a duck,

and zooming further,

we find that the duck is holding in its wings a jewel

and the jewel is taken by a hand in a nitrile glove

and a tiny-faced balloon pops, before its time,

(and this event is sad

because it was groom to a blushing balloonwife)

and the glove is attached to the body of the doctor.

twilight is deforming the doctor

as he dutifully rolls thick fruit leathers,

grunting quietly, wiping his forehead,

making slices from the loaf,

flattening his playdough into sheets,

encoding time into a paste,

leeches working away on my skin,

nonpareils are melting in the car

and atlas moth and harlequin beetle

are interlocking their fingers in the air.

do you remember how it was so cold

and we weren't looking at each other

and i couldn't stop crying

or another time

when we both took off our shoes

to stand in the puddles,

broken off from the real by the drugs,

you were so beautiful then

i could see your sternum rising and falling

and blood rushed through your face,

now, a subtle craftsman

has replaced my bones with wicker,

the hat man

and the hatchet man

they watched at my bedside

when the poison took me over,

meanwhile she jumped into a drum of blueberries

at the supermarket like it was a pile of leaves,

and those around her were inspired,

and mass looting began,

and i can still remember that time

when i vomited for hours,

and you listened to me cry,

and i swore oaths, and again,

when i rested my head on your shoulder,

even though we had just met,

and i promise i didn't want to stop being in love,

but it’s the end now, my dear,

it’s the end of everything,

i didn't want to really, i didn’t want to,

i don't want to stop anything,