"A naked lunch is natural to us, we eat reality sandwiches. But allegories are so much lettuce. Don't hide the madness."

Core PO-em, Poem for CO-re, Core for Poem: Drawer

A forest inside of me, dying roots constricting dying valves,
cherry wormwood seeps from open pore, regurgitated and cracked in half (crackcocaine).
Sleeping on hot sticky asphalt when home means arid grasses now corroded, rotten, muddied.
Mossy coated like too many unbrushed teeth after too many cups of black coffee sludge.
Sticks and stones may break my bones and words will fucking kill me.
Trash-barrel trash-cans like the hairy penny candy of unnamed three year olds.
My jaw now with tusks, my teeth now with jaws, wait harmlessly under dim streetlights,
reflecting orange loud traffic cones.
I had a world inside of me, held a world inside of me, but then it rolled off its axis,
splatted on the pavement like moldy watermelons out of second story windows.