Yarrow
Gold ingots offend feet,
kicked to curb.
Wounds want right
to bleed out stage.
Flies flare up,
can’t eat new shit.
New boils.
older bush burns.
Second hand orgies
told out of new school.
Hand jobs allowed
to fan flames.
Wolfish hair
cries whore.
Cut own strands
still offending growth.
Suckerpunch drunk,
praise forward, exact spot.
Hands on
swan’s throat.
Nothing sound
one more year.
The abyss open mikes,
asks five minutes more.
I blink
hard
lose sight.
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