Tuesday, September 18, 2012


i await news of you
in my igloo
tie my intestines in knots
poke flies in my eyes
vomit convulsively
as if there is nothing else to do

when you write
i hold each letter in my hand
for an hour before i read it
and collapse afterwards
exhausted by the drunk punch
of your mind

later my own words come out
disordered like shrapnel
from the explosion of
my lust
sealed with spit
i thrust them down the letterbox's gob