Whiplash

The edge is a lively piece, I am moved, entirely

Completely by livers stashed

Away in

Nirvana

Look, she tells me

Our home swoons away the rabid grey

The pickle job

That little smile that creeps under the

Very goddess of 

Neon lights

Twice of our own

Image of every blank tv dot

All Sweet sweet white noise

Am I not this great 

Abyss that moves

And courses away when the red

Is loved in drought?

No, tis but an oblique of stars

I cannot move yet

So I tell her,

Look at the floating beings 

That flies over you

Everytime 

You close your eyes and take in

The petty toneless pain

That writhes like 

A wash of crimson eyes

Tearing

At the fountain 

Cheering away at your heart

Everything I do 

Is infinitely useless to you

And the slimy tv show

Clones of follied sheep

Dissolve 

They do

Like stunted fish