Poets

your flesh is ageing, how can I go on with you? excrement is what you are, completely. it's quite costly. but look, look at your hands, you're not bleeding anymore, while you were once a pond.

complaints fail to reach me because I constantly need to squirt on the centrepiece, on the centrepiece, need to squirt,

lie quiet when I stick a finger in your mouth. otherwise your body will get tainted. this is a time of difficult tests, you know, only after my raging letter chemistry wanted to leave its principles behind.