I ground the ground
With my most secret teeth
I expected it to taste like
Vodka flavoured glass beads.
Instead it tasted exactly as your
Slapstick tongue
And punchlined shoulders.

Sweat and coffee
Droplets stuck on this
Foreboding lip
Shoes and matches
Shed fright
And wrapped light
Around my muddy ankles.

Your curls and skin
Strangle my golden brown stomach
Your ever uttered thoughts whirl around
My arteries, vines and leaves.
Choke my last lashes of pain.
Free. Fretting.