friends of friends and an orgy of mutuality

each one ripe for the fucking until we greedily

eat our own tails

 

I find myself running low on chemistry

 

with so little reaction left inside of me

the water around the plug hole no longer spins,

it only falls

 

architectural wounds

cannot heal beneath this razor’s murderous haste

while the cognisant weak and a cappella apes deform

 

do you expect the silent comedy of a shared space?

 

once straight tempers and scorpion kindness highball

an unhappy taste, leaving who to speak

for the ordinary host?

 

the functionaries short practice

infects the martyr’s hurried hair

between the principal route and the settling irons