- Non-Erotic Poetry
- I Can Feel
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Did it for a fallen fireman. For a pretty boy and his tattoos. For a doofus with strange shamanistic shit-bird tendencies. Oooh-wee! I can feel. Went to a healer; got a machete, a wood grained pocket knife, and a plucked Callistemon. Grape seeds. He says when I get rich, I'm going to take you on a date. I thought healers were lonely hermits. There's a woman in his back bedroom who shaves her forehead and sleeps three hours after speed drinking gallons of milk. Sent me a picture of the white pooled vomit. Betrayal has grades. Got an enemy who doesn't know my middle name or capabilities. She invited me for dinner. This performance artist in black, sewing stitches and bathing paper dolls.
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