here we sit the paracetamol princess and the wishbone wizard the philanthropy of a fetishist a natural in narcissistic nurture
the plague doctor removes his mask to sleep have you ever considered that? a tribute to the disintegrating infant dripping off his tongue
like an orgy in the milkmaid’s mind a distorted contortion of her mistress’s pride illness irradiated by a puff on the pipe shepherd’s delight shrouded in intellect but failed by his crowd
my stomach a bare canvas etch me a verse my teeth to be chiselled carve me down to my purest self slice away the excess uncovering colour in swirling drops
hide my skates and skin me alive look mum, no hands!