Genre of Eat
when the mind won't stop and the words come out wrong

I force you out
Agita
squirming worms at high velocity
trapped behind eyeballs
I can see you pacing.
You seethe about rain on nettles
I’m drawn to the wholesome shape
you let them occupy
intact spikes filled with glow girl aesthetics
no longer tack-y to h i t c h onto coats
of pass-ing animals
moving toward the borderlands
Spikes, the illusionist
is an Indian rhinoceros
She wears heavy armor on the shoulders
and trunk
Go for the underbelly- says the Komodo Dragon
The message rumbles low
from Indonesia
His secrets s s surpass e s his cares
Fiddle Leaf watches the fly rub
its antennae, furious
glee over leftovers-
horse manure
Steam rises from the teapot
pressure valve releases
a long yowling hiss rips my mind
o p e n
to plug the little bits of grey matter
back
into my mouth
dried splatters of diet coke inside wrinkly gum tops
a silver tin-
sweet juice-y s l e e p
a pair of raucous red lips
round an’ round a carousel
bloody knuckle bone
grinding daisy lights
headlamps tossed in Neapolitan pizza
this genre of sleep
***
Tres nights
Tres leche cake
three
What are w o r d s?
***
But. Minced. Meat.
***
It's
homeo-stasis
stat-istics
static...
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.


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