Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

FYI i wanna beat most people up from
slavery and into the frying pan slick with charred gore with a reach
extending far beyond someone’s distant entreaty knock on doors of
abandoned sex elephants slinking through glacial woods where nothing
much happens passively as skunk’s tail voltage gags on love lesions
on their voices incessant visigoth on film so oily with plain text
and games in ascii decoder wakes up in an abutment on summer storms
shivering in borders on rotation this month so the body gets treated
with lillies cupping wildernesses of gender protrusions confused by
the shallowness of venison pools concurrent worship pills or fats
blossoming without conscience upon the mother hips that toss me
around in your sleep