SOME MEN DESIRE SAUSAGE NAILED TO BARK just for kicks.
Joan prefers sorting iron deposits to culinary remonstrations.
That’s the true way to heathen caballus hearts.
Never downed a brandy
Talons took her liver in the after-life.
Her face a gossamer sheen of life’s never haves
Like Chrissie Hynde, that brass in pocket left months ago.
Self-hacked curls are racy to ravens.
Joan would rather cut her fingers off than caress a waxen cheek
and it’s all what time should we meet up after the war?
Primp the ocean with a poorly crafted ax swing.
Mouths ravage sound waves.
It’s her voice that mounts the men–
Wingless mongrels with clumsy carbon footprints I chose you for your pulsing qualities Wikipedia left that part out.
Arm to stone to crushed ladder leg
Burning hair multitude and it’s 1-0.
Joan thinks about hell and the
Spears secret guts spill out.
Maniacal reds, virgin whites, pink pudding.
Grapefruit spoon in throat
King Charles laughs a little boy laugh
looks down at all the feet.