i didn't want this,

the fallen dust

floated nonchalantly to the frozen floor,

curtain of forgotten dreams

and experienced perversions.

the dichotomy of unfulfilled desire,

fueled by the lion

does not justify a barcode

tattooed with shaking hands

in the cold flesh of personal history,

the seminal fluid stain

that refuses to be washed away,

cast away by the detergent of the living moments.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

i can regurgitate this in any way

but it doesn't help,

it doesn't yeast and

it doesn't imply anything relevant.

genitalia thrown together

with the purpose of finding a viable solution

Through trial and error.

the color of blood being repeatedly washed

in an automatic washer

floods the floor

on which 13 strains of powdered sugar

have chosen to sunbathe under halogen light.