How can a naked man run past curfew the streets without living?

Tag: idea

Now i know you – the dogma has faded from your face and you fall into my lap, a nude flap of flesh colour.

Squathouse Wagon

squatting : allow the celebration of madness
it is bitter; and my tongue weeps as
cuticles emerge. the
reflexes of the idea are quicker than the will
human minds; swathed with holes
forced exits in nauseating labour
tongue writhes and I egest
grovelling, hair-trimmed
in constipation of the cancer