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Paper Mâché
With a scent of the corpse, Paper Mâché
cold as the sins of my debauchery's pen
foreskin of the dark's scarlet eyes
and the widow's compost rotting on the
vine playing giddyup with my catheter's
tusk, rising from the foul-smelling yeast
riding a crooked voice
cold as the sins of my debauchery's pen
foreskin of the dark's scarlet eyes
and the widow's compost rotting on the
vine playing giddyup with my catheter's
tusk, rising from the foul-smelling yeast
riding a crooked voice
Published 25th Jan 2025
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