Cut open my belly.
There’s something inside it for every swarm.
Air Jordan’s in the desert then dismembered.
Cut up everyone.
Make naked bowling daffodils.
I’ve been losing sleep over my coffin.
That is not glory. This is:
Innermost beings in circulating videos
Amputate their limbs to get free
Texts and tapping sounds.
Post-originate to launch stray monsters of the get.
Friends bottle a tiny girl and
It is good.
5 pounds of ocean salmon are ground up
To feed 1 pound of farm-raised salmon.
69’d boys spring claustrophobic girl-woods.
I don’t ever want to drop from my life and it has felt
Very strange having me gone from it.
I needed an expectation of a life away from me
And so there has been silence between theme parks.
Walking a pilgrimage through the temples of Shikoku, my
Bootlaces develop the mystical present.
Pelicans enjoy condiments as a perfect correction.
Their blouses are completely claustrophobic in nature.
I wish patterned flowers smashed living pain.
I shrink, I’m thumbs exhumed from the thing said
About farmers of the flood
The promised land lets be
Bathing lotus slaughters settling empty space pleas.
The savage maps and interprets my apparition.
I’m going back to where this came from.
Who’s been here since I’ll be gone?
Kill everybody to clean yourself of that wrong.
Shit on the pencil and paper and
Write down why you’ve a right to stay.
Sometimes I believe in shit, sometimes I believe
Putt-putt gut stumps with their red arrests on
Cause rumbling, cause falling allowed.
I can tell by the following that
Murdering cities seems too mall.
When I lay down at night I fight
To see the night glued on me.
I sit up all night long and prepare to marry
Muffs of the solid sea.
Working without what’s found, the
Since I’ve been gone I’m going back to where I came from
Farms a revolving savage.
RC Miller lives in Metuchen, New Jersey. He is author of the chapbooks Windex We Can (Wheelchair Party), A Large Retailer (Ronin Press), GORE (Calliope Nerve Media) and blogs via WIGFUCKER