Please Shut The Flap To It..On The Way Out.. Poem by James McLain

she will never let it heal
staples in business end
is staples
why softly pulled
balanced plop liquid
spray divined
behind me always touch
weird fixation licking tips
milky juice
saying oyster likes grass
grey white pink shellless
meat for free
no one sees mouth tubed
speechless grunt caused
machine a nervous break
to gasp for me
she stopped get pictures it
never ends
skulls cross a golgothic is
caricature of
romaines parade a olive
lost in
thoughtless grey static
walking in her hand oiled
petted convulsived reaction
known by she
harder she grows to a tweak
electrical is sockets bold key.