sleep

my eyes, they swell like pregnant breasts, when the sun stirs me from my gentle rest, my skin, it smells like black sick meat, and when i wake it wears like wooly putty, to die a rotting smelly sack of silly flesh that looks like sickness, with yellow jackets pecking at my mumps disease, and from my mouth my tongue is hanging, like a starving cord of nerves, ooooo ooooooo oooooo ooooooooooooo, i would be happy, mired in bacterial death, wheezing in the ejaculation like a lion after feasting, yes, i would be happy, oh, if only i could shoot the sun through the navel and pull its guts right through it, with an anger, sleep hibernates the juices and the starches and the organs, while wild prostitutes, gallop in the firepits, of my head, beating drums and shooting stars, out of the mouths, my eyes, they swell like pregnant breasts, when the sun stirs me from my gentle rest, my skin, it smells like black sick meat, to die a rotting smelly sack of meat