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My internal flesh digests these fish-eating tribes.
My torn skin, my sharp bones, my tapered head.
Reduced to perfect edges.
I hate these fish that lead me to the bottom.
From bile to phlegmon, I hold my madness gagged under my life.
Under my bed drags the furies. I know I'm getting worse, I know who I am.
Damn bitch, pregnant with hate.
Sniff that foul taste hanging around, organic honey.
Sweet rot ©, fed, engorged with psychiatric cream.
Undresses the inaudible chaos of its reversible skin.
My excessive hunger.
This venom leaks into my greasy pipes coughing.
Look at me, bitch, vomit, bitch, satisfy me, bitch.
Look at me, bitch.
These half lionesses are barking their pants.
Vomiting their emptiness, their extract of suicide.
Perfect ascension of a fascination.
My sleeping body.