the burning bell

sweaty fork bilked yr freedom

box hinges turned to rotten

meat's head maggot slamming

off the lid TOGGAM XOB your

fingers crunched in a book lose

your snore yr checkout counter

bright with cranial seepage

grubs

spongy eyes

your sticky cheeks

beak faucet claw your

way into a ffurnace yr

slit tongue sspeakss aa mmaskk

turns inside out the screee

kching money screen stumbles

down a path through burning woods

arde cuanto no arde y hasta

el dolor dobla el pico en risa.

- César Vallejo