Monday, October 14, 2013

Less Pointed Flail With Words

Sleeping with a wireless headset,
later, there were scratches to be found
in a lost position behind my ear lube.

Caused a pimple on October,
so large as to win any tuber
-slash-fruit awarding ceremony. 

pump·kin: a large rounded orange-yellow fruit with a thick rind, edible flesh, and many seeds. (Source at time: Google)

So much pus it grosses out
all the party girls, leaving
only true medic girls to tend to me.

This of course would be pure fantasy,
given I don't know, any longer, where to be.
Witch house to haunt? Vampires to hunt twice?

Zombies leisure suit & larrying round my throat, 
and Trevor from GTA5 enters my alveoli.
Combating vertigo and nausea, I tell him his game sucks ass,

he just dissipates 'n ends up watching Star Trek.
Not a bad ending for male protagonist.
Not even a bad engine for me. Who'll remain alive,

probably. During and past this--'Death'--of which everyone else speaks.

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