It’s been stated
“wrong stall”
Before he’s steady at my hips
Not two steps away
From his own Stumble bump’s
Yet he can stay steady at my hip’s
His hands wafting around my skin
I Could’ve just doubled the sink
But ya dipped one knee between
My leg and paralleled yourself
as a spit stained mustache
Blasted out asa shush
Then pushed them self’s up to a pucker
An Fucker it could’ve been doubled
The sinks alabaster teeth Position Him up
as I kiss his forehead then remove his digits from around my frame
And head back to the door
I could walk three water towers away and still see him tail me as a car full of teenagers
Unwelcoming
Or as damp palette he strapped me to making me guess which instrument’s he was using
Sometimes he’s just the interview’s i’m refused once me/my voice is heard
over phone
But then he sounds more like
“and what’s your name? No your real name?”

“You know it’s illegal to lie on your resume…”

“We actually went with someone more
qualified anyway.”

Sometimes it’s staying still till he’s finished

I want him dead
But He’d win still
As long as capital remains the arterial
He win’s Still as cricket’s
And bite’s like the wet zippo flicks of an outdoor whore then go out to dinner
with the family still as crickets still
Somehow

So stay motionless long enough
Just to watch them call your murder
a suicide

Never attempt to find a body

Then put someone else’s name
On ya gravestone

But Good lord
God bless the cricket
Who can Whined Violin
Inta pure pitch black

They’ll give us stillness in sound
And in some case’s the only face’s present at our funeral’s…