Plain excuses and me; yellow uphill, shore
vacant and cavernous sulfur purr like
browning or gaol; improper suction
Pregnant tasteless smokeless mastheads
yelling they’re yelling they’re yelling
it’s okay she said it was okay she said
Whole lords of fonts not docile, but nubs
The fun ends in my skin; I fund you
below the lope and snarl of a day’s brunt
If I could close everything around me around me
and quiet like sprawl grass; but you know
Everyone else is okay with everything else
but you; drilled yourself this bitter whole
in the center of a room at twilight
Plain intrusions, trusted suck
which must have something to do with you