Storage
The fuse of your time bomb fizzes,
juices flowing
escorting cancerous puss
through your honeycombed pores
sealed scabs like plugholes
suffocating themselves
as they suffocate your body
measurements too wide for
oak cut to casket.
Lies
processed on the same table as cows,
shielding yourself from the sincerity smoke as it
navigates through your respiratory windpipe,
you holding its hand.
Don’t go environmental on me,
check the reflective surface
of the label next time, better yet
check the mirror.
