she-bop///and the brave ones

social psychic melting pot
alligator tracks
and the boiling moon
vomiting up
sewn sutures
a panic depth
of hot pavement
stitching in mimed faces
lined print
lined paper
the black ink
pooling
without a wrinkled lip
to bleed into
without the age of deception
and the knowledge of a skillful introduction
pink heat
in the days of the dying art
of casual sex
in the days
of reading
novels too many
into a short comic strip
to swat it off
in a dead fly trap
licking
sweat
dripping
nicotine splashed sheets
an itch scratched
in the depth of gravel pits
daylight is always coming forth
bringing more to the alter
of an imploding brain