Hard Crusty Yellow

There’s no time

For this

This meaty clock

That ticks

And

Tocks

Inside the walls of

My brown kitchen

The fleshy sheep

In the oven

Baking like

Lamb cookies

On Easter Sunday

Has risen

I am stimulated

Despite the last hour

Of the night

As I groom my

Eyelashes for

A date I have

With satin and

Duck feathers

I am hard in lipstick

Rigid under nausea stars

That fights each rainbow

To its brutal

And timely

Death

I find myself

Upright

In the mirror now

Not giving

Two shits

About

This

Or

That

Anymore

I take to the bed

Like the lamb took

To the cleaver

And I bleed

Red ooze

On the paisley

Pillowcase

And

Semen stained sheets

Hard

Crusty

And yellow

(Like Popeye

After a vicious fight

With his nemesis

Bluto)

But I am asking for this

I

Want to bleed

I

Want to be cut open

I’m

Positive

While the monkey grinder

Calls it a day

And packs up

His nickels

On the street corner

He hails himself

A cab

And lets his partner

In rancid fur

Ride the

Checkered rooftop

Surfing, if you will

But for me,

There’s no time for this

While I am 87% sure

That

I would go down on it

If only the thighs were

Open like a

24 hour

Butcher shop

I turn a cold shoulder and

Let my tattered back

Face the

Drapes

In the window

As the snow falls harder

With each

Passing millisecond

I peek out

One more time

To check

The percentages

My eyes focus slowly

And I decide

In the last remaining

Second

To shut them quickly

And forget

The whole fucking thing