your breath smells like gumballs; that makes
me horny.
i will pull your skin over a streetlight and
inspect it for flaws.
don't look at me. i feel weird.
i donated my organs provided that my large
intestine (undamaged) would be
used as a snorkel.
my friend died in the toilet.
she had an aneurysm while vomiting and
drowned face down.
if you don't think about something during
the day that almost kills you to
think, you aren't real.
i ate a peanut butter sandwich in the shower
this morning.
sometimes i think about random facts to make
sure i haven't become a
completely different person.
smell the doorknob.
it smells like my hand.
which smells like your face.
which smells like the ground.
which smells like what i've eaten.
which turns into you.
i will fill in my trail.
no one will find me.
lay down until the earth covers you.
i will own only the column of air above me.
i like to pull weeds from the ground and
throw them into the street. no
followers.
this day is mercy none. i eat with no
thanks.
burn your hand over the stove. eat the
pieces off it until it's just bone.
hold my hand. let's take a bath together in that pond. i don't mind that
it's cold. i don't mind those green, floating things.
i will bring soap made of soft skeletons.
i would like to cut off the fingers from my
right hand and replace them with
all pinky fingers. i would wave the fingers and my hand would look like an
underwater plant.
i am willing to pay up to five hundred
dollars to have this done by a
relatively competent doctor or finger expert
or even someone who knows what
an underwater plant looks like so
they could be like, "yes" or
"no, that doesn't look like an underwater
plant."
i make shitty paper airplanes. they don't fly they just hit the
ground.
i lay on the bottom of the lake and blow
bubbles.
i put a piece of paper on my desk and slam
my hand into it until my hand is
broken.
when the moon spills, sleep in its belly. in
a womb finely threaded. in a
pink hued swamp kept body-temperature.
i am embarrassed that I know even one
celebrity's name.
the bigger I grow in your belly, the closer
you are to death
stab down every idea.
i am a cripple turning rusty keyholes.
mine and yours.
sleep tight.
Sam Pink III Duke of Wilbyshire is the duke of Wilbyshire. He is wearing a robe that has easy masturbation access. He blogs here: Impersonalelectroniccommunication.com and here: DRUNK.