i.
the fascinating thing about
my
piglarva
(things grow in there)
(it’s all very shush shush)
will you let me grow your insides ?
ever since i have laid spleens
accepting close accepting
chaos accepting
bangbang did it hot
mucus
almost pop
dress my spleen to
tip my teeth
take my hair to
cross the street
Now hold my fascinating slu,p
it crawls down your throat
I’d prefer if you recognize when
it does so.
I’ve since managed to spread thick
vaseline over the section (my very own mucus)
I felt I should prove I can be quintessential
(I’m very shiny when I choose to be)
having dressed my favorite
spleen in yarn and pig
fibers -
moving in no apparent direction
(having not yet sat very still in a
room with no ledges) (not
knowing what that stops you
from)
Six Legsjust doing what they ought to
a spleen (mine) demands repercussions from the state and/or the
idea that the state can hold an (individual) (organ) accountable
iii.
aristotle, you motherfucker
am I not virtuous?
standing before you
holding my mush
(icky icky)
before out and almost entirely
in
a yummy green stump
[ socrates mentioned that was
very bright lipstick for a pig ]
however clarice,
respectfully declining
comment
so thoroughly un-pig-like
some posthumous spleen
as she was
in her fake grass
felt the rash
(spread)
hip
lump
sick
tuck
what is and/ for what?
maintaining the same autonomy
as one of the 600 microscopic
flecks of grain making up 600
fine powdery pollens (they blow
in big 6-winds) scratchy
ouchouch
listen,
if we are not on top of the
hill screaming blood hounds
then I don’t know what we’re
..
if we are not all throat making
(blood mounds)
then,
viciously
or re-phrased;
if I am part of a bigger
philosophical agenda
aka good pig
I like to imagine I maintain
some sort of relative right
to pig, you’ve been a very
bad boy
if I am full belly
pig stuff (I believe so fully
I can’t find my mouth)
then I am already 30 swallows
too early and thus, by virtue,
entirely too late
not that I am estimating
myself,
or you,
with the ability to hold anything down
(we throw up so often)
but I find a simple reality in the up mess
it is a warm and so comfy
big thick
of being numerous
of being bursting
still stylistically whole
you’re sick and I can’t make you better
I’m sick and sometimes we make each other feel ‘ok’
(intellectualism as absurdism!) the product or growth
resulting from such cultivation
Eating many parts of full sunlight in an easier world I would have
had no problem dissecting, how to
find close and get tender