who else writes this kind of junk she opened her mouth to laugh
and a filth of flies fell out
they were dying, she could tell
by the way they wriggled around
rolling about in their dark songs
humming strange nursery style rhymes
it made her cry to witness this
for in a dream once she thought
they were not buzzing black
but a book of bold butterfly_kisses
swimming over her pinned tongue
turned in reverse motion
flying away from her lips
back to their places of birth
the flowers, their countries of origin bearing bright and cheerful gifts
summer whispers of blue lobelia nectar
  from my hunger, prepare a banquet which i can only watch others consume ungratefully

from my thirst, draw forth an ocean, and salt it with silences until i cannot drink

from my desire, summon only mirages within my reach... tell me of the scenes you've played with other actors while reminding me that i am not welcome on the stage

and let my hopes be like a carrot on the end of a stick, and i the mule who follows it, too much the fool to quit the chase

you do it because you can
what's it to you?
who go