Bent Needles

laments the scream. in virulent obsessions. quixotic and sore. with flaking skin and bitten lips. the gentle stab of touch. unravelling in sweat and piss. trembling numbers spoil the division. corrupt the scab.

she wonders what apocalypse could be compared to this. a soft fart in a sea of shit.

summers. the simple mongrels touch would confess. burglars stiff with the broken glass.

winters. the nervous monsters unnamed. thieves pale with faces splintered by the task.

in the glower of autumns chasing time. the numbers brace for flowing blood. animals thick with math. turn the stones in empty graves. a chase of  flesh. a panic of numbers. pebbles to stones. in a series of surrenders.

she wakes to the beast. the simple cotton of muscle and bone. wears her thighs. stretches her eyes. dull needles sew with fraying thread. heroes in loose frocks and empty pcokets. hurry home.