Feb 20, 2013

Sluggish Worm

Whispers in the sluggish garden
marching like fire ants, setting the
natural median ablaze… hot and crispy
skin burning and blistering
temptation's proud of tarry lies
starving a hungry lust…face crumbs
matted  around crust
deep seated … uprooted pleasure
building ladder upon ladder
I'm up on it…on you as we slide out
yet, the slightest hint of ambiance
your whisper cascades through space
a name ~ squirming, dripping, licking
a frozen tomb… melting with an alcohol rubbing rebirth
where everything survives, the conceivable tongue
an unbelievable mirage bears waning witness
as whispers place a bug in the right abyss
giving me the flu once again, taken to the bed
thriving off hell to a forensic lab
bring me back~ off the soft, gentle and bad
like a classic remake that blows the ear drum- sad
a top soil of the rich, but compounded of feces
where flowers and insects slug to breed
both dwell in this whispering
to depart means total departure…
low progression inside a lackadaisical garden
stay or leave-  moving worm…


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