Milk and Honey
They sell the new drugs right under your nose. Too familiar to speak of, those wolves breathe heavy. Dawn’s song worms the gooed maze of the body’s interior. Today is a series of dangerous doors closing. Raw silk brushing the skin of a bruised ass. I want the cliffs above the sea to disappear now. I spread one of the body’s holes open wide, spit deep into it. A form of punctuation. Anything but children and animals, she said. Those are my soft spots. Rushing through a busy mall I trip over a blind man’s cane. My upper lip tastes of piss. All the things I hate are imaginary.