The towel I use to dry myself
\nSmells of meat almost spoiled.
\nHumid condensation leeches
\nBrown ichor from wallpapered walls.
\nAthwart an unsteady ignoble seat
\nRinged with grime and decay,
\nI ponder the spider building his web,
\nThen dash his life away.
\nNo small bird to peer within
\nThis dank windowless room,
\nSunk in miasma of unpleasant thought
\nBitterly jealous of the tomb.
\nTen units of plasma barely kept him stable.
\nThey taped the tubes and his eyes.
\nKept him on the table for six, seven hours.
\nAnd after all that, he died.
\nBrooding, claustrophobic walls
\nClose in about my knees.
\nMy head free from enclosing constraint,
\nBut not from what lies beneath.
\nThe scars may be hidden above
\nBut bore deep into bone.
\nCannibal emptiness looses its stench
\nUpon the cloaca of the world.
\nMan was born to eat and shit,
\nAnd fail to digest for a time.
\nWould there were toilet paper enough
\nTo wipe this ass of mine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The towel I use to dry myself Smells of meat almost spoiled. Humid condensation leeches Brown ichor from wallpapered walls. Athwart an unsteady ignoble seat Ringed with grime and decay, I ponder the spider building his web, Then dash his life away. No small bird to peer within This dank windowless room, Sunk in miasma … <\/p>\n