There is an increasing dread in her bowels
while the radio hums a heartbroken lullaby
A lion roars down a dead body
as she picks at the skin on her ankles
‘Calm down, calm down, calm dow’
roaring turns into weeping
weeping into laughter
laughter into frequencies
‘Don’t bother, don’t bother’
her freckles starts to bleed out
her skull,
crushed by the weight of the world,
strays through the skinned bones
‘it’ll all be okay in the end’
There are constellations on her face,
a faded tattoo scars her stomach.
While she purges
immigrants of lost lives,
she picks a star and cuts her tongue;
ah, the testimony!
She slits deeper and deeper
deeper
frequencies turn into laughter
laughter into weeping
weeping into roaring.
There are mountains running across her breasts,
forest ash and stardust-
fresh residues of old turmoils.
While she slaps herself in the face,
she sparks every forest fire ever known to her body;
ah, the pleasure.
She lights fiercer and fiercer
fiercer
the lion is dead
the radio, broken, like her lullabies
she lights and slits and grins and smiles
while she slights and slits and grins and smiles
Ah, the joy of being alive.
The rivers running down her bowels
make a quick escape,
ebbing into her veins,
drawing drains in her abandoned insides.
While she rips her bones to the pile of nothing she once was,
she breaks every proof of construction she is;
ah, the satisfaction.
Her fundamentals have charred,
now being fed to the rotting body’s ego:
stains of a self that never was.
Ah, the confusion succeeding death.
Contemporarycrap 