A Cuntful of Wishes
Quelle: Spotify
The only words I understand:
the ellipses and ampersands.
A list of revisions of things to believe.
The greys in the plughole. The plaque on my teeth.
A nostril full of spider's legs.
A foreskin full of spider's eggs.
It's not what I wanted. It's not how it seemed.
A cuntful of wishes. A cuntful of dreams.
Puckering up blood clots again.
Whining some new mucal repent.
Somebody put this leash in my hand
and when I pull once she lies on command.
We wove a nest of pubic hair.
We laid our youth to rest in there.
A light flicks colour through the legs of the cot.
We kneel on the landing with ring fingers crossed.
But there's love inside these four walls yet.
I weaned the television set.
I suckled the carpet. I breastfed the walls.
I licked up the birth sacs and hash-tagged it all.
Puckering up blood clots again.
Whining some new mucal repent.
Somebody put this leash in my hand
and when I pull once she lies on command.
Are we just market agents sent by system glitch
to fool us into being walking unpaid hand models for rival jewelers?
The mirrors sprawl like tumours swallowing the walls.
This room's a love-locked recursion.
Two looping shadowed figures grope towards the other's calls.
An inch apart the scene resets and back you go and back you further, further, further.
Puckering up blood clots again.
Whining some new mucal repent.
Somebody put this leash in her hand
and when our time comes we'll die on command.
The only words I understand:
the ellipses and ampersands.
I read it in the paper. A science magazine.
We're a cockful of wishes. A cuntful of dreams.
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