bluthead

nates collapsant ,raft de

seated in yr whistling sink I

thought yr cave stuffed with

coffee pots yr lathered

neck itchy toward a knife

.ate relaxant ,axed my

feet yr swinging bread in

haled the spiggot was yr

blunted fog deballed ,a sli

ckened bun empty where

yr suit sat down

creep my form ,ask yr hatless crown