How Many Holes Can You Handle?
Too many holes might turn you
into a black lagoon with poison
swimming inside you. What if he tells you
he’s thinking about your tits,
you in a witch hat, going down
into a lake that keeps sinking?
At the bottom, pearl sacs rip open,
blisters burst under the tongue. A blustering
blastosphere spell of passion might shoot out
of the water at a breakneck pace, but oddly twisted.
It will rip flesh off the bottom of your legs.
You’re a waitress dress with skull legs affixed.
Red spiders crawl up and down your thighs.
Half and half, slightly sweetened coffee
or black? Is it sugar or poison drip drip
dripping out your eyes? Is it an iris
or a multicolored wormhole?
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