The moon spills mercury on thorn and stem with fingers that plucked the tightest budof pimento dark red roses — and now the night is a slow unbuttoning of wings of love and algebra as the wind hums lazy...

Don't put your tootsies in, or swim in my jacuzzi and get your own Manischewitz,keeping the Citronella bug lights burning as I promote my tango, sideswiping Poeand the Keebler Elves...they don't know shit about decay and Annette Funicello,my muse...

...who the walls, crawling through my mindeach kiss a graffiti, of mortal sins masturbatingbut listens, but walls, without mouth or tongue,ghosting whores pulling me deeper into insanitywith a lullaby for my gothic ink, bleeding my soulwith plastered tattoos while...