© 2018 Kariss Young

Watering eyebrows
from those with teething problems
as laces stub through the eyes
of dwindling feet.

See
soiled sheets
pinned with
five pointed shapes
hide their lids to
coil
the speech you left teetering.

For they leave you
to remove
the pith from the pillow.

See
it’s
the fifth of the fruit,
the yellow rind,
the ooze of the pupils
which tear through
soil
like grinding teeth.

For its tits and piss
which grounds our abode -
The Renaissance of resonance
where ambling comes
in abundance.

Tis the flair of a hum
both
short and sour,
blank and shite
and digs out from
the pit of becoming.

It is this scarlet fate
which digs out.

They dig.
You dig.
He digs,
and you
sit on lemons.