A Dry Heave Rushes Across The Fields

I cough up blood, sinks,
and directions to my house.
Come, AND BRING THE SPONGE.

Skullfucking Without The Skull

You, me.

No fatties.

Assitance Needed

My soul has grown extra limbs. It started as what I thought were gas pains. When I saw the doctor, he suspected cancer, tumors. Scans revealed nothing.

Soon, though, the pain got worse, and out of my eyes and ears and nostrils and my mouth and my anus came long arms with teeth.

They are invisible to the naked eye, but they nevertheless swing all about me swatting at the people near by.

My soul's eight limbs steal things at the grocery store and bodega without my knowing. When I get home at the end of the day, my body is full of candies and pens that I have unwittingly absconded with.

Who wants to get close enough to let my octosoul steal their heart?

I feel it swimming around inside me, my soul, and it is building a nest out of my organs. It is building a place to sit on your heart and hatch it. It has moved my lungs and my spleen and my appendix to a place just behind my intestines and it is molding it all into a hovel that I know, eventually, I will have to enter as well.

Will you hold my bellybutton open while I crawl into myself?

Let Me Have Your Feet

I am willing to buy or trade, up to $50 hands down, or I have some time shares that might interest you.

I don't take single toes, and no heels, please.

The Weather Is Eating Us

The Fall showed up this weekend with fork in hand and said to me, "You know the drill. Lie Down so I can eat you, crap you out again, and mold you into a new person."

Being chewed by Fall's breezy teeth and then sliding down his sweatery throat is one of my favorite ways of being consumed. (I also don't mind becoming pure liquid in Summer's Cuisinart and then being tossed down like an energy drink before being shot out of his squishy pits and lower back.) And once you're in Falls' stomach, there's cocoa and some good books to read, maybe even spiced wine if you're lucky, and --not to mention -- Indigestion, a shriveled crone from Staten Island who can prattle on about nearly any old thing so long as he's got enough Tums Chewables.

Now, being crapped out by the Fall isn't always the best, but it brings back memories of what it was like to be formless at least! His hands are cold, crunchy, and made entirely of leaves, so when the Fall molds us back into a person -- straight out of the crap that we are -- it feels pretty great like exfoliating a bit with a brick to the face.

So, get back to me if you want to surprise the Fall sometime with something exciting, like a sprinkling of salt or going out for a beer, or jumping it from behind with chloroform.