PowerPoint Your Desire Into A Less Problematic Fluid!…
Stop writing my poem
Today we have wrists
Choke out the rusted fruit
Bury them next to us in our yard
The joke about cake and penis
Veins the size of seven needles
The slide of Christ is magnified 10x for your convenience
Wipe your eyes with the oils you've collected
Conflicting diets can be made to cancel each other out
Just don't go too far or run the risk of cannibalization
That excitement of being human
Stop writing my poem. A face without cysts. So
count the crust and move.
Hurry your legs to us.
the joke about cock and clean us.
Remains the size of leavened angels. O Hosanna!
The life of Christ is sanctified in times before He leaves us.
Why put your eyes with the boils you've neglected. Inflicting riots
can behave to cancer. Heat. Just arouse us.
Drunk odes to fine arms. Surround the wrist of a cannibal. His aching.
The excised meat of being human.
Stop writing my poem. Efface without risks. Soak out the rust
and move her real legs. Do us in too hard.
To choke on bad chalk and cleaners.
He raised insides of laughing angels.
O Hosanna! The bride of Christ is safe to hide in tithes.
Before He leaves us why shut your eyes. With the coils you’ve inspected
uplifting bias can be made to advance her heat. Judge around us drunk goats
to find our hymns. Around the breasts. And a cannibal escaping.
The indictment of being human.
stop writing my poem a vase we thought rests
oh gather us in movie-reel acts due west in due art
the choking by jaw can glean us He razed the sides
of lagging hanged jowls O Hossana! the price of Christ
is made too high He dies before He sees us why shout
your eyes lick the coals you’ve infected a blessed thing
why us can’t we mean to have answer each edge around
a strung host divine or harms a gown to rest on a can and piss
His gaping the insides meant our being human
I am naked on the futon eating string cheese
You are not naked on the futon eating string cheese. You are out buying orthotics. I think your overpronation is sexy. But not too sexy. Let's not get carried away. I have ingested seven grams of protein. My debit card feels like a deadly slice of blowfish. It is leaking something into my wallet. I throw the wallet away. I'm tired of this shit. Isn't that what people say. I never forgave you for surviving that tornado. How can I express this in a greeting card. The ratio of animal protein to soy protein is probably too high. You are at risk for dementia. Sometimes I want to blurt it out when we're babysitting the twins across the street. They won't feel sorry for you. They are four. They have all the time in the world. When they touch something sharp, it still fucking hurts. Please hurry home.
Delete my fiction. It never held.
It embarrasses your sister I am in love with.
We will never hold.
Her hands deleted in my dreams the eyes I had closed.
Her eyes dreamt the hands I closed with hands.
And hands of her arms burst splinters at regular intervals over the eyes she peeled like
She gave the oranges up you wouldn't leave alone.
To spit pulp on a splinter our arms were never naked.
I needed a sister you never held. Deleted. Like that.
Daniel Spinks was born in Atlanta, Georgia. He is fond of breakfast foods.