CATACHRESTIC, I don't think that's the right word.

poem enough?

catachrestic
hey
beetles jaws and
little claws
spiny
black and shiny
tearing at your
tearing your insides
but you
you love the feeling of
ripping skin of love
oh hey
catachrest
can i bite your chest
is that
cracking sound
wracking down
on
your
nipple
when
brute force hooves and horse
what will bruises on your cheeks
bloodinbetween teeth
spit
and spit and spit inside

i
want
to tear open every
follicle
filial
fucking burial
breath again
in laundry bin
trapped
but
thats the way you like it
forsaking air for cotton
scratching at your lungs
and beauty breathing in my tongue
what
this
isn't lust
it's almost death
and almost
cata
so close
to


no
its gone

mice mice mice
gray fur greasy caked
and
the splinters in your back speak of
places with sand
pitted and
not quite dead enough
for love
shit
i can't feel enough
shit
i can't feel
GOD WHAT WILL IT TAKE
WHAT WILL I TAKE
TAKE TAKE
TAKE
(steak carve me...)

wake up honey its time for school
wet cabbage
tepid
drool

black
black

ishna ho tep a'lach

winds seep
sift
sleep

cata

cata

dead mice
wet
paper hamburger wrappers
in
the
gray scum of
street gutters
body
shudders

pin

prick

soft squeeze the blood from chocolate cupcakes intime for skin flakes

just another

damn

day