THE NEIGHBOURS ARE THROWING BOTTLES ON THE STREET


this proud flesh
oh how it starts to slip
just when i've found
some sort-of-centre
some sort-of-grip

sounds like pissing away, unengaged
cloudy vessel in a matte, nocturnal dream
almost-touched, potential
quickly yanked back, hard to breath

lists, deadlines, routines, bargaining
already moving
shrieking, something impressive

fat and throbbing and bothered
fist-round, fish-lured
big big, bitty bite



when i get that feeling...
even a shadow will do
loaded-up, tempting domestic weapon

miss the way he thinks
disturbed preferences
whetted, sugared-up schoolgirl appetite

i'm going with my finger
glassy-eye'd, powdered ring
outta outta outta sight

not able to judge
disorienting little hall
convinced myself of...
something 

the concavity of my thoughts

could eat me alive