As grape alcohol turns my mind, bald faces- bald, elaborate faces- wash into the twilight scene beyond. I am here now; good thirst for night strangles at my throat and every body surmounts to weak matter. They can't matter any more than the organic speck upon an eyelash.


--------

mind hid in a bunker of breasts
faces extinction in exquisite
scene psychedelic Martin Luther King impersonators
now seeking ideas to hoist yet instead
strangles their organs and rearranges them into
body mixture goop
matter moon do suncircles with
the some guy
every other some guy could barely recognize
                                                            barely