Spit. When you die. Last chest bump swizzle stick! Ghosts pull your feet out of bed —
vanish you like a magic trick / death takes you like a swizzle stick by the neck so low tech
by the heart how life vanishes you by words i stare through you like a high-ball or
cold bloody mary through the eye swizzle stick (little prick) the face in the mirror is all light
a trick bleeding (this story) how i infiltrated pride and ventilation with cyanide through mind
and brain /no antidote\ swizzle stick/ kiss your neck goes to the heart — stiff nipples ripple shirt
camel cool-aid toe wet through the eye aside makes doom tasty baby true | a true source of Light
what fools the heart might be true please…distort.
A telepresence of greed and affection. This is the channel that makes metal scream.
Let it scream.
:: 05.29.2022 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 